The Writing Mamas Daily Blog
Each day on the Writing Mamas Daily Blog, a different member will write about mothering.If you're a mom then you've said these words, you've made these observations and you've lived these situations - 24/7.
And for that, you are a goddess.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Happy Hour
Remember those glorious days when after work you would hit the bars, go for happy hour, have drinks, laugh, and let off steam?
Happy hour is very different today. I don’t participate in it: my children do.
It doesn’t take place in a bar. It happens during grocery shopping.
“Hey,” let’s get this,” says Jay, grabbing a box of sour fizzy Go-GURTs.
May I ask you? Does a product like that really need to exist?
“Can I open the box?”
Yes, yes, I say, just trying to keep the cart moving, hoping to remember what to buy in each aisle and working off my food To-Get list.
“I want something,” my six-year old declares.
One child can’t have one thing without the other getting something. I grew up with three siblings and fully understand this brotherly/sisterly thinking.
“What do you want?” I ask. “Grapes?” I offer meekly.
“No, Cool Ranch Doritos.” She grabs a five-pound bag.
“NO!” I scream, temporarily forgetting that I’m in public. I look around. I’m certain other mothers heard me. Oh, well. More gently I say, “We can get the ninety-nine cent bag. It’s the perfect size for you.”
Seeing the size disparity, Mimi needs to win some points. “I want to eat it now.”
Yes, yes, I say, just trying to stay food focused.
“Hey, how about those orange juice boxes?” asks Jay. At least he didn’t ask for the Kool-Aid. He told me there’s a new invisible version and I was afraid he was going to want that.
He tore open the package, gulped it down and then squashed the box. Why do boys squash juice boxes? Ever notice that?
Anyway, this prompted Mimi to request a box of juice. Fine. It’s all fine.
Almost at the vegetable and fruit aisle. Nearly done. Organic grapes. My, they do look tiny. But I don’t want to take a chance on the pesticide coating regular grapes. Two pounds of organic grapes came to about $10.
I might as well have shopped at Whole Paycheck, I mean Whole Foods.
This went on and on, one food item opened after another – but all the while the kids were being sated and I avoided freaking out AND I was successfully checking off food items from my list giving me a true sense of motherly accomplishment. Sad, but needed. At this point, I will take whatever props I can get.
At the check-out line, as usual, the clerk wanted to know if the opened bags needed to be replaced.
“Nope, just happy hour for the kids,” I said.
“I love happy hour!” he said. “All that free food.”
I eyed my $100 plus bill. I would no longer call it free, but if providing my children with snacks while shopping kept them content, then this was happy hour for me.
By Dawn Yun
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Happy hour is very different today. I don’t participate in it: my children do.
It doesn’t take place in a bar. It happens during grocery shopping.
“Hey,” let’s get this,” says Jay, grabbing a box of sour fizzy Go-GURTs.
May I ask you? Does a product like that really need to exist?
“Can I open the box?”
Yes, yes, I say, just trying to keep the cart moving, hoping to remember what to buy in each aisle and working off my food To-Get list.
“I want something,” my six-year old declares.
One child can’t have one thing without the other getting something. I grew up with three siblings and fully understand this brotherly/sisterly thinking.
“What do you want?” I ask. “Grapes?” I offer meekly.
“No, Cool Ranch Doritos.” She grabs a five-pound bag.
“NO!” I scream, temporarily forgetting that I’m in public. I look around. I’m certain other mothers heard me. Oh, well. More gently I say, “We can get the ninety-nine cent bag. It’s the perfect size for you.”
Seeing the size disparity, Mimi needs to win some points. “I want to eat it now.”
Yes, yes, I say, just trying to stay food focused.
“Hey, how about those orange juice boxes?” asks Jay. At least he didn’t ask for the Kool-Aid. He told me there’s a new invisible version and I was afraid he was going to want that.
He tore open the package, gulped it down and then squashed the box. Why do boys squash juice boxes? Ever notice that?
Anyway, this prompted Mimi to request a box of juice. Fine. It’s all fine.
Almost at the vegetable and fruit aisle. Nearly done. Organic grapes. My, they do look tiny. But I don’t want to take a chance on the pesticide coating regular grapes. Two pounds of organic grapes came to about $10.
I might as well have shopped at Whole Paycheck, I mean Whole Foods.
This went on and on, one food item opened after another – but all the while the kids were being sated and I avoided freaking out AND I was successfully checking off food items from my list giving me a true sense of motherly accomplishment. Sad, but needed. At this point, I will take whatever props I can get.
At the check-out line, as usual, the clerk wanted to know if the opened bags needed to be replaced.
“Nope, just happy hour for the kids,” I said.
“I love happy hour!” he said. “All that free food.”
I eyed my $100 plus bill. I would no longer call it free, but if providing my children with snacks while shopping kept them content, then this was happy hour for me.
By Dawn Yun
Labels: Dawn Yun
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