Third Thursday Thoughts: Giving up the Cape (Or What Motherhood Has Taught Me About Grace
I’m delighted to once again be participating in the Third Thursday Thoughts blog hop. Hearts at Home seeks “to encourage, equip, and educate every mom in every season of motherhood using Christian values to strengthen families.” Today, we’re sharing ways that motherhood has changed us for better or worse. Won’t you join us? When I was expecting our first child, I believed that a great plan would lead to smooth parenting. I read dozens of books on child rearing, held countless conversations with my spouse about discipline techniques, and made a master list of our projected family priorities.
Then a seven-pound-seven-ounce miracle stormed into our lives and blew all my well-laid plans.
Thirteen years and five children later, I’ve abandoned my quest for fool-proof formulas and have turned my efforts to a different kind of search: a hunt for grace.
And sometimes I find that gift in the most unexpected places. Like in the frozen food aisle at the local grocery store.
And sometimes I find that gift in the most unexpected places. Like in the frozen food aisle at the local grocery store.
There’s nothing that puts mothering under the microscope quite like grocery shopping with children.
The idealist in me wants to believe that there is some secret formula to avoiding grocery-store mayhem. Or perhaps a special cape a mom can don on grocery day to avoid the perils of preschoolers.
But so far my real-world experience in the grocery store aisles confirm my theory: the grocery store is just God’s tool of choice to keep moms humble. Especially this mom of five.
A few years ago when the genial manager of our local super market met me in aisle one with an ornery grin, an industrial-sized mop, and this greeting- “I’m ready for your visit!”- I knew that the truth was out. I don’t own a special cape, just a five-year-old dressed in a Power Ranger suit.
The idealist in me wants to believe that there is some secret formula to avoiding grocery-store mayhem. Or perhaps a special cape a mom can don on grocery day to avoid the perils of preschoolers.
But so far my real-world experience in the grocery store aisles confirm my theory: the grocery store is just God’s tool of choice to keep moms humble. Especially this mom of five.
A few years ago when the genial manager of our local super market met me in aisle one with an ornery grin, an industrial-sized mop, and this greeting- “I’m ready for your visit!”- I knew that the truth was out. I don’t own a special cape, just a five-year-old dressed in a Power Ranger suit. Not only does the grocery store highlight my inadequacies, but it sheds light on the uniqueness of my children. While each of my little shoppers has derived from the same gene pool, every one has honed a different talent within the seven narrow aisles of our small town food mart.
My firstborn tested creative rocket launches in the produce aisle–– What made you think broccoli could fly?–while my second implemented intriguing experiments in the dairy aisle– How many ceiling tiles did you think that cottage cheese splat would cover?
My fourth child honed his theatrical skills in the candy aisle–Just step around him. He’s not REALLY hyperventilating–while my third born made awkward conversation with the check-out ladies–Honey, you shouldn’t call someone’s bow tie ugly. She’s required to wear that here.
My fifth child is still working on her dance moves, particularly the ones that involve spinning into large cereal box displays and grooving in the gravy aisle. Darling, please look before you pirouette!
I realize that some mothers can sail seamlessly through food-stocked aisles with quiet, tear-free carrot-munching children in tow. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. But I’ve given up trying to master the art myself.
Don’t misunderstand, I still strive for painless shopping trips. I believe in the power of a well-planned bribe. The sugary sticky kind, of course. (Did I mention that before I had children I swore I’d never resort to bribery?).
But if we’re going to be totally real here- I’ll just say it like it is. Even the stickiest bribes don’t always prevent sticky situations.
My tale of the freezer-dive-bomber is proof of point…
Don’t misunderstand, I still strive for painless shopping trips. I believe in the power of a well-planned bribe. The sugary sticky kind, of course. (Did I mention that before I had children I swore I’d never resort to bribery?).
But if we’re going to be totally real here- I’ll just say it like it is. Even the stickiest bribes don’t always prevent sticky situations.
My tale of the freezer-dive-bomber is proof of point…
A few years ago I’d raided the tattered Valentine’s bag sitting on my school-ager’s dresser before my Monday morning stock-up trip. (I suppose that qualifies as bribery and theft).
Armed with two bright-red lollipops, I’d buckled my preschoolers into the minivan and silently congratulated myself on my wise foresight.
I’d avoided eye-contact with the manager as we whisked through the door and clocked record speed in the vegetable aisle.
When one-year-old Maggie had grabbed a can of chicken noodle soup like a soldier handling a grenade, I’d reached for my own ammunition.
One lick of sugar on a stick had squashed any interested my baby may have had in the growing pile of canned goods. When we’d turned the corner to aisle three, I’d secured four boxes of healthy cereal without a single argument with my young shopping mates over the sugary alternatives.
Soon after, when my three-year-old had made a dash for the tiny skid loader parked behind the staff only sign in the dingy stock room, I’d lured him back with my felicitous candy carrot.
I’d rounded the corner of aisle seven with a swagger in my step. The check-out line was in sight and my children were still seated in the food-stuffed cart. With a mere five items left on my list, I’d begun to claim the victory.
Then I did something totally out of character. I momentarily turned my back on my sticky duo and paused to calculate whether the sale price of Sara Lee’s wheat loaf was a better buy than my standard green package of Healthy Choice.
My only explanation is this: I’d been anesthetized by the lollipop triumph. The sheer panic of impending mayhem that normally drives me through the store had failed to ignite. Duped by the counterfeit calm, I’d mistakenly believed that I had time to be thoughtful and thrifty.
Then I did something totally out of character. I momentarily turned my back on my sticky duo and paused to calculate whether the sale price of Sara Lee’s wheat loaf was a better buy than my standard green package of Healthy Choice.
My only explanation is this: I’d been anesthetized by the lollipop triumph. The sheer panic of impending mayhem that normally drives me through the store had failed to ignite. Duped by the counterfeit calm, I’d mistakenly believed that I had time to be thoughtful and thrifty.
I might have left the supermarket with the faulty assumption that I deserved a cape after all if it weren’t for the yelp that baffled my brilliance. Somewhere in the middle of my savvy attempt to divide the number of bread slices by the cost of the loaf, I’d heard a familiar voice.
“My butt is cold! My butt is cold!”
Instantly, the mathematical marvel in the bread aisle had disappeared and my mortified self turned back to the cart just in time to notice that my preschooler was no longer in it. He had dive-bombed into the open freezer case and lay sprawl-eagle on a bumpy stack of frozen peas.
Adding insult to injury, my baby’s miracle lollipop dangled gleefully from her curly hair as she applauded her brother’s sophisticated stunt.
Adding insult to injury, my baby’s miracle lollipop dangled gleefully from her curly hair as she applauded her brother’s sophisticated stunt.
I could have walked out of the store and pretended to have no idea whose children were performing on the circus stage of aisle seven if it hadn’t been for the young man stocking the nearby shelf of Ritz crackers. Unfortunately, I’d recognized the working lad as one of my husband’s loyal patients.
As I fished my sky diver from the freezer case, I’d begged the Lord to protect my man’s fine reputation as a family doctor and I’d wished – not for the first time–that I had never filled my husband’s clinic rooms with hefty framed photos of our darling children.
While my three-year-old babbled incessantly about the uncomfortable nature of frozen peas, I’d plucked a crimson lollipop from my baby’s wispy hair and asked the Lord if He would please consider relocating our family to a budding metropolis where nobody recognizes doctor’s wives.
Then I’d headed humbly for the cash register.
As I fished my sky diver from the freezer case, I’d begged the Lord to protect my man’s fine reputation as a family doctor and I’d wished – not for the first time–that I had never filled my husband’s clinic rooms with hefty framed photos of our darling children.While my three-year-old babbled incessantly about the uncomfortable nature of frozen peas, I’d plucked a crimson lollipop from my baby’s wispy hair and asked the Lord if He would please consider relocating our family to a budding metropolis where nobody recognizes doctor’s wives.
Then I’d headed humbly for the cash register.
The courteous checker had smiled and asked me if I’d found everything all right, and I’d assured her that I had.
But as I’d brushed an ice chip off of my son’s slender shoulder, I changed my mind.
But as I’d brushed an ice chip off of my son’s slender shoulder, I changed my mind.
“Actually,” I said with a cavalier glance at my list, “there was one item I was looking for…”
“Oh?” the bow-tied clerk had met my gaze. “What was that?”
“Grace,” I’d murmured. “Do you think I’d find that near the freezer case?”
-edited from the archives
-edited from the archives
The Overflow: We have all received one blessing after another. God’s grace is not limited. -John 1:16
Also linking with Emily for Imperfect Prose, Jennifer for God Bumps, and Shanda for On My Heart.
LOL!
I am always thankful when I return home with groceries and all 6 kids! :)…all of my own 6 kids!
so much easier to laugh from our couches than in the grocery store! Yes, the “looks” from other shoppers… used to bring me to tears. Now I wonder why more people don’t soak in the great comedy routines we moms and kids provide in the grocery store aisles. And all for free!
Oh, your grocery store tales made me laugh at all of the times I’ve had so funny experienes myself…like when I knocked over an end cap with those stupid giant cars or when my six year old knocked the whole cart sideways, and all I remember is cantelope and yougart rolling away and multiple people giving me the look that said, please control your child. Too funny!
oh my goodness! i loved this post! it made me feel so… normal 🙂 i’m so glad i’m not the only one who lets their children live a little 🙂 love you girl.
Lori, I can’t get the Hearts at Home link to work right today, either. Glad we found each other regardless! Your family stories always make me smile.
Great post! I love the “real” of it. I tried to link up but couldn’t figure it out…here’s my link @ http://lifeloveandlaughterinalargefamily.blogspot.com/2011/11/just-love-em.html
I can’t understand why I can’t figure this out…i’ve done it on several others and have one of my own…
Keep up the God work
Alicia, this post was awesome. My first born thought grocery isles were race tracks. And regularly darted through the parking lot. I always wondered how those moms got three kids to walk quietly through the store holding onto the cart. My second one came and I learned the secret. She was born with a gene that made her hold the cart or my hand or my purse. She was terrified to lose me. I am sure all those grocery store workers love. We love to know that the lives of our doctor or pastor or teacher are not filled to perfection. Great story.
oh my…i hope you forgive my laughter…luckily i only have 2 boys but they are more than enough at times to keep me from certain stores…lol….