Last night, I decided to brave the big world and go out on a Friday night to do a little shopping. Alone with my three tiny tots in tow, I loaded my 4-month-old along with my two and three-year-old toddlers into the Tahoe and then jumped in the front seat. The AC was blowing and the light was golden in the late evening hour. I had my diaper bag stocked and two cups full of deliciously cold water.
“I deserve this,” I told myself. I wanted to get a few specific things. I did a little research online to see what I’d estimate spending and then off we went. I drove through the early evening weekend traffic. There were lots of people driving home from work, anxiously anticipating their weekend plans. I, too, had a weekend plan: I was shopping for makeup. Yes, makeup. I had a goal in mind. After having three children in the past four years, I was determined to attempt some of the Instagram tutorials I stay up late at night watching. The Anastasia Brow Dip Pomade was finally going to be mine. Finally!
Two toddlers and a baby walk into a beauty store…
We pulled up to the beauty store, and I promised my tiny children it would be quick. I swore to my little boy that we would later go to a “boys” store and see cool stuff. I was blatantly lying. “Sure, honey, we will find a batman store.” Ha! Toddler attention span, or lack of it, was in my corner this time. My darling daughter was eagerly excited for “makeups” and could care less what it really was. She was simply in awe of such a bright and pretty store. I perused the aisles slowly realizing how quietly alone the storefront was. It was awesome! Me and my two walking toddlers, plus the baby in a stroller, were free to roam.
I kept them by my side; I looked at what I planned to see; I picked out a few items… and then I made a mistake. I decided to keep looking and explore what the store had to offer.
Smell the pretty perfumes? Of course! Try a few tester products? Why, yes! Oh to be a girl again! There I was, rolling through the aisles with the stroller that sometimes hit a shelf or whatnot. My sweet children tried hard to keep themselves from touching all the low level sample products they had. And they did well, excellent for a while. But then in typical toddler fashion, they got bored. They got bored real fast.
Window! (Run to the windows to look outside.)
Chair! (Try to climb counter stools.)
Splat. (Ran straight into a counter top and landed face-down).
Oh my gosh! (I’m expected to pick him up.) I pick him up, snuggle, and make him laugh. Then, I realize that the once empty store is now fully packed with customers. There are lots of people everywhere and, now, lots of people in line.
Bolt for the door? Or be brave?
How badly do I want that brow pomade? Bad, I want it bad. Be brave, I tell myself. Be brave. So we stand in line. At this moment in time, my little three-year-old is begging to go back home. My two-year-old is fighting with gravity. My 4-month-old breastfed baby has decided to scream for his milk. But I’m next in line and then soon I will be out. I smile at my children, take a deep breath, and do my best to promise discipline for misbehavior while still being kind and caring. My items land on the counter and then I hear the total. I deserve this. I want this. I… I take out a few items and buy only some face powder and that deeply coveted pomade.
Gosh, I could have avoided their meltdown if I had just picked up the things I wanted, paid for them, and made it back home. But I didn’t. (How often do you? ) At dinner afterwards, I pondered over the meltdown and realized I was blessed. I told my husband I was tired. I mentioned how I am constantly being needed by someone at home. Someone always needs me! I told him with a piercing gaze in my eyes. And that is a blessing.
Enjoying the sweet along with the tart.
So I will take it. I will accept all the meltdowns that may happen. My children are good; they are so very well-behaved. But they are children, and they do give in to their inner child every so often. It is during those trying times that I have a prime opportunity to shape them into better people and for them to shape me into a better parent.