Supermarket Parenting

I was doing my weekly schlep to Whole Foods when I noticed something. It was not the new mango-wasabi-beet foam reduction organic chutney for $10.99. Though ordinarily that would capture my attention.

No, it was the sheer proliferation of mothers with twin babies in dual strollers. These mighty mamas were pushing their progeny with one hand in front while behind their backs they lugged shopping carts. Each with that look of utter mommy determination in their eyes.

Hands never let go of their most precious of cargo, their kids, while tossing produce behind their backs in arcs that land in their carts with a precision akin to pitching ace Tim Lincecum throwing strikes.

So many children were frolicking in the store that I came to a new realization: supermarkets are the new playgrounds.

Searching for my daughter I saw the face of a “we never get to see each other anymore because time is harder to sell than a house” friend, Gretchen.

Her kids were MIA too.

So many mommies were pushing strollers and carts that trying to have a motherly conversation in our local supermarket proved daunting.

Staring at the mass quantity of babies made me ask, “Seems so long ago, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Gretchen said as her head swiveled looking for her sons. “And then it doesn’t.”

In mommy fast talk – its own language – we caught up on travels, camps, work, and our latest home upgrades.

I marveled as another mother athletically tossed items into her cart while holding her baby in her arm. Her to-do list was not on her smart phone. It was ingrained in her psyche.

What prowess!

A baby was crying hysterically while her mother tried everything to sooth him, while a toddler giggled repeatedly in delight as his mother snuggled his face.

My 18-year old son, Jay, will be off to college in September, I told Gretchen.

“What’s that like?”

“Happy for him. It’s time for him to live his life.” My shoulders heaved. “I can’t believe he’s going away to college. It sucks.”

Her sons, one in fifth grade, the other entering third ran up to her. They wanted something. My nine-year old found me. She wanted something too.

One of those mama choice moments. Do we say yes so we can have some much-needed adult talk? Or do we stick to the “do not take advantage of mommy while shopping” lecture that mothers nationwide make before letting their kids out of their car cages in store parking lots.

Too late! Our kids took off and decided for us.

A child was having a full-on tantrum while rolling on the ground. This one far exceeded the 10-second rule. His mother was bending over him like a paramedic. Her back rigid, her temper so taut that I deeply sensed this mother’s frustration, awareness and embarrassment.

“How did we survive that?” I asked.

“It’s still a dance,” Gretchen said.

Some of the steps we now know while other moves we have yet to learn.