Just the other day, while I was fastening my seatbelt in the grocery store parking lot, I caught sight of a family getting into their car parked right in front of me. They had only a couple of bags, and as they approached, the mom pressed a button to unlock the doors and slid open the side door with ease. She hopped into the driver’s seat, and her two pre-teen kids followed suit. With a quick turn of the ignition, they were off in a flash, leaving me in a daze.
I couldn’t help but gawk at their empty parking space long after they drove away. “She got in the car without a fuss!” I thought, feeling a twinge of envy. “No screaming kids, no wrestling them into the car, no buckling any car seats—just a smooth exit!”
Now, mind you, I have four little ones under the age of six. For me, getting into the car is a colossal endeavor—more of a circus performance than a simple task. This mom seemed to flaunt her effortless routine like a pro, while I was left grappling with my own chaotic situation.
She didn’t have to wrestle any tantruming toddlers into their seats. She didn’t need to buckle four car seats with five-point harnesses or re-buckle the escape artists who manage to unbuckle themselves at the worst possible moment. There were no tears shed (okay, maybe I’ve shed a few), no battling with grocery carts that seem to have a mind of their own, and certainly no dodging traffic to return the cart loaded with kids’ toys and snacks.
As I continued to stare at the now-empty parking spot (seriously, it was a long stare), I imagined her home life was just as breezy. She probably told her kids, “We’re heading to the store,” and they instantly appeared, ready and buckled in their seats, shoes on, no last-minute diaper changes required.
I pictured her walking out to the garage without a child army crawling underneath the car or a toddler exploring the garbage. She didn’t have to load bags filled with items or wrestle with wayward toys and trash cluttering her car. And when she finally turned the ignition, her hair wasn’t plastered to her sweaty face from the struggle of it all.
I bet it’s been ages since she thought, “Forget it,” and unloaded the car because the hassle of leaving just wasn’t worth it. And I’m sure she’s never pulled up to her destination only to find children asleep in the car, leading her to drive right back home.
This got me pondering the daily nightmares she likely doesn’t face while running errands—nightmares that make my own errands feel like an Olympic sport. For instance:
- Maneuvering a cart full of mini kleptomaniacs who hoard marshmallows, Tic-Tacs, and random cans of pie filling as if they’re in a scavenger hunt.
- Sweating bullets in a public restroom, holding one child above the questionable toilet seat while refereeing a chaotic game of “who can splash water the best” among the others.
- Ignoring the stares of strangers as my kid throws a full-body tantrum because we dared to pass the toy aisle.
- Oh, and taking four boys into a public restroom? That’s an adventure all its own!
I assume that this seemingly serene mother has had her fair share of chaos, but I can’t help but feel she’s a bit of a unicorn in the parenting world. One day, I hope to be that relaxed driver, gliding through errands without feeling like I’m preparing for battle.
Sure, I adore my kids, but getting them into the car is a task that rivals the terror of bath time.
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In summary, while the struggles of running errands with kids can feel overwhelming, it’s comforting to know that every parent has their own unique challenges. With time and patience, we can all find a way to navigate these moments and cherish the memories.