Whole Foods with Kids

Getting out of the house with three kids under the age of three, two of whom are new to the whole "not pooping or peeing on myself" thing can be challening. The gear alone that you have to bring is overwhelming, especially since I've added to my list a portable potty (which I call my briefcase, because it folds up to be the shape of one and makes me feel business-y (because business people carry bright green plastic breifcase shaped potties around)) and 55 pairs of extra toddler pants and underwear in case of near-certain "accidents". Which usually aren't so much "accidents" as "on purpose...dents".  (You can read about what it takes to get out with my little ones here).

But I have a worst nightmare in life. Here it is, allow me to set the scene. I'm out with my three kids, and we have things to buy. A lot of things to buy. And guess where we have to buy them from? WHOLE FOODS. AT LUNCHTIME. ON THE WEEKEND.

There are grocery stores that are child-friendly, and then there is Whole Foods. First of all, do they purposely move into stores that don't have enough parking? Is that cool? Because I would still go there if they had a Wal-Mart sized parking lot. Just saying.

SURE, they have a little adorable red wagon full of snacks for my kids. SURE, the staff is usually covered in tattoos and have big beards and dreads and look really unique and your kids will stare and stare at them quietly and it will keep them entertained. But the aisles are two feet wide, there are little kiosks precariously piled high with locally made truffles everywhere, the check out lines back up into the store aisles because the stores are NEVER big enough, and that $15 glass bottle of organic apple cider vinegar? Child level. Oh, what about this container of Chilean saffron that costs a million dollars an ounce? They can get to it.

I know what you're thinking. "Put your kid in the cart, you idiot." Well I would if they had double carts. I don't even think they have enough room to store a double cart, much less make the aisles wide enough to accomodate one. So I put one kid up where they're supposed to go, the other kid in the back with all of the warning signs of stick-figure kids falling to their deaths out of the back of the cart, and the baby goes in my baby carrier. This is, of course, after I find a parking spot. And both toddlers take a turn sitting on the portable potty with the door wide open for all of the passers-by to see. "I go pee pee on the potty!" they yell to everyone. They get it, kid.

We finally get in the store and politely squeeze by people as my toddlers reach out for all of the all-natural goodness that lines the shelves, get what we need (which all has to go into the back of the cart with one of the wild animals toddlers), and proceed to checkout. Here is where it gets really tricky. Why, oh why, do they put cd's in their checkout aisles. Would you like a little Harry Connick Jr. with your organic-grass-fed-free-range beef? You would? Well lucky you, you can grab this overpriced cd that we conveniently put at the same level as the child's seat in our grocery carts. So that they can grab them all and throw them on the floor! And break them! So that their parents have to buy them! Win-win!

So, after considering asking for duct tape to make impromptu straight-jackets for my children to prevent cd breaking and candy-stealing (they will bite through that wrapper in .5 seconds, beware), I am handed my bag of groceries and sent back into the world. Now I have to put my groceries and children into my car, by myself, in a crazy busy parking lot where there are also NO PLACES TO PUT YOUR GROCERY CART. I'm sorry if it isn't classy, Whole Foods, but I need a cart-corral. I bet it's classier than runaway carts everywhere.

But wait, no. Here is where I am the luckiest person. I have a Whole Foods Angel.

Background: I met one of the best people in the world when I was 5. Her name is Maggie Delahoyde, and we basically grew up together. She and our other friend Katie Monroe got me through highschool basically unscathed. Maggie's house was the hangout place, and so her family became almost like an extended family to me and all of our close friends. Maggie's siblings were always in and out, so we got to know all of them (and make fun of them, just like we did our own siblings! lucky them). Her older brother is named Will, and Will has Downs Syndrome. He is an obviously great guy, and everybody loved him when we were in highschool. He was always around, liked to know where everybody was going, and was never treated differently by his family than any of the other kids. He was just Will. The fact that he has Downs Syndrome was never really talked about, mostly because they didn't let it define him. Will defined himself, and he defined himself as a really awesome person. Will works at Whole Foods. Will is my Angel.

After highschool, fast forward through college and a few more years and I find myself back in Raleigh...with kids. From probably the very first time I brought my girls to Whole Foods, Will helped me to my car. He didn't even ask, he just took the cart from my hands and let me lead the way. Every time since, Will helps me to my car, helps me get the kids out (they totally don't mind when he picks them up, they reach out for him just like they do for me), and loads my groceries into the back. He solves my problem of no cart-corrals as he always pushes my cart(s) back to the store for me. The few times that I've gone shopping and he wasn't there, I really missed him. Not just because he helps me, but because his kindness is a little gleam of light in my day. His smile and his refusal to not help me make me feel...noticed. In a world where I somtimes feel like I'm bothering everyone just by having kids, Will gives me special treatment. I need that.

I didn't always have kids (shocking, right?). Even when I was a nanny, I would see moms out shopping with their broods and have absolutely NO idea how difficult that seemingly simple task was for them. I didn't always look for ways to help them like I do now, or for chances to smile or give a little word of encouragement. Now that I have little kids I know how hard it can be, and I have a lot more compassion. I know that those moms need help sometimes, just like I do. But you know what? It didn't take being a parent for Will to be helpful. Will doesn't have kids, and I'm guessing he's never been a nanny. He saw a need, and he met it. No questions asked. He wasn't "polite" and he likely didn't even think about how it may offend me or hurt my pride by offering to help. HE JUST DID IT. He boldly took my cart and did what needed to be done to get me on my way. Even though he hasn't experienced what my life is like, he jumped in to make it easier for me. He followed his instincts and his heart.

I really hope that I can be more like Will. I hope that I can get my head out of my own butt and look around and meet people's needs before they have to ask. I hope that I can just take their (figurative) grocery carts out of their hands and lessen their loads without thinking too much about how I might come off or if I may offend them. I hope that I can make people's lives a little easier, even in just a simple way, like Will does for me.

Going with the flow...

You know the moment. That sweet, quiet time when you are rocking your baby to sleep in your arms. His eyes slowly drift shut as sleep gently starts to wash over him. You did it, momma. Now all you have to do is stand up and transfer him to his bed in the least-awkward way possible. There you go, complete naptime success is so close you can almost taste it…

And so can your other children.

“MOMMA!” (knock knock) “MOMMA. MOMMA. MOMMA.” (bang, bang) “THERE. IS. A. BUG.”

Oh. Hello, unwelcome toddler.

You don’t even want to look at the baby’s face as you are pretty sure his eyes are wide, wide open thanks to this very loud miniature person at his door. You sneak a quick peek at him anyway… Yep. Wide as saucers. And the toddler is unrelenting.

“MOM! (bang) MA! (bang) MOM! (bang) MA! (bang) YOU GET THE BUG!!!”

And you come to a crossroads in your life. The toddler or the baby? I usually choose the toddler, considering that the volume they operate on is louder than those monkeys that you can hear from miles away in the forest. You didn’t know about those monkeys? They exist. And my kids are louder than they are. There is no person alive who can sleep through my children’s loudness, unless they’re in a coma. Even then, the jury’s still out- I’m bringing them to the hospital next week to hang out in coma patients rooms and bother them to wakefulness.

Getting two 2-year-olds to be quiet is like getting your dog to not bark at squirrels or getting your mom to not comment on your hair. It’s not happening. But you know what? Despite the terrible odds, I still have to try. My house is small, my baby is young, and I really need for my toddlers to sometimes be quiet. I’ve tried EVERYTHING to get them to remember to be quiet for longer than 12 seconds.

Candy.

Videos.

High-fives. (I know, lame. But I ran out of candy)

Talking to them. I even tried that Beginner’s Acting trick of putting emphasis on every word in the sentence to see if it would sink in. “I NEED… for you to be quiet. I need FOR YOU… to be quiet. I need for you TO BE… quiet. I need for you to be QUIET.” They just laughed at me.

So, like with everything else, I soldier on and hope that this too shall pass. In the meantime, I have compiled a list of things that one would hope to never hear their older children say to each other whilst one is engaged in that critical moment of rocking their baby to sleep. Hearing these things forces you to face the possible destruction of your home, the safety of your toddlers, the sanity of your conscious mind, the possibility that your baby will not ever be able to take a nap for his entire existence, and the meaning of life.

Here’s the list. Most unfortunately, this list came from my truthful personal experience.

“I’m all wet!”

“You all wet!”

“It’s all wet!”

“Momma’s makeup! I try it.”

“I’m gonna climb this.”

“You climb this too, Sissy?”

“Look at my poo poo!”

“I have yucky panties.”

“You touch my bottom?” (they’re only 2, remember that)

“Did you eat it?”

“I put it in my mouth!”

“I open the door! C’mon Sissy!” (yep. The front door)

“I climb the window.”

“Take it off? My diaper?”

“I found candy!”

 “Eggs! I’m gonna crack them.” (They can open the fridge now, hurray)

So this is the background noise of my every attempt to rock the baby to sleep. I am constantly thinking, “Should I intervene? Will they be ok if I’m in here for a few more minutes? Are they going to poop on my bed?” You see, having twins first can be tricky. There is no older sibling to go, “Girls, you probably shouldn’t climb up on the counter and try to get the butcher’s knife. Bad idea.” One unsupervised two year old can be mischievous enough, but two…that’s like two recovering alcoholics living together in a house stocked with booze. No matter how much trouble they’re liable to get into if someone finds out, they’re going to fall off the wagon. We all learned in Psychology 101 that humans are more likely to disobey when someone is willing to go down with them. Well, my kids have a built-in someone. For them it is life’s greatest blessing, I’m sure. For me, well, it’s a panic attack waiting to happen.

Today’s addition to the list:

Lucky me, they both came to tell me some good news just as the baby’s eyelids were beginning to close.

“MOMMA! I go poo poo!!”(knock knock)

“Hazel go poo poo Momma! She did it!” (knock knock knock)

“You wipe my bottom?”

“Wipe Hazel’s bottom, Momma!”

 “POO POO MOMMA. POO. POO.”

So, as I imagined Hazel smearing her butt all over our tan couch, I got up from the rocking chair and attended to my toddler with the baby in my arms.

Luckily, he’s much better at going with the flow than I am.