3 children, one Kinder egg and the line at the supermarket.
I’ve always thought that someone should write a manual for the line at the supermarket.
The basic rules regarding how not run over whomever is paying, ought to be written down.
I don´t know if my life is especially stressful or what, but the minute I´m standing in line to pay, the lady behind me is already pushing her basket forward to see if she can advance across the two millimeters between us, so I move forward the couple of meters that separate me from the man in front of me, and then I think about the unknown person who one day not too long from now will write this blessed manual.
I’m next, so I place my things on the conveyor belt and then the lady behind me shifts her weight to her left hip as if to say, I’ve seen faster people, while my littlest daughter insists she is not going to give the cashier her Kinder egg because, as she says,
I say to her: “Sweetheart, you have to give her the egg because we have to pay for it”.
noooooo shouts my little blondie as she builds up into a froth. The lady behind us switches hips and crosses one arm, which seems super threatening so I take the chocolate egg from my little girl in an athletic Mommy gesture and give it to the cashier.
We get back to the basket and to putting things on the belt and I say to my middle daughter: honey, did you get the sandwich bread? No, Mommy, you were going to get it.
Do me a favor and go get it, please, I say. The lady behind us crosses her other arm and the man behind her rolls his eyes. I keep thinking about the blessed personnage who is going to write the manual, where rule number 2 will be—what does she care if she loses two minutes when she is going to stop and spend 20 minutes chatting with her neighbor about nothing of consequence whatsoever when she leaves here.
I’d like to see them try and shop at the market with three children.
My daughter returns with the sliced bread, the other one is still balling her eyes out because the cashier had taken her egg, while I start bagging the groceries frantically, so much so that I’m sweating more than when I go to spin class.
Meanwhile, mi son, the eldest, decides he’s bored so he gives the middle one a shove because she won’t give him the Kinder egg and so they start hitting each other.
And that’s when I lose control of my nerves, my composure and even my glamour, and I bark at them so loudly that they hear me way over in the meat section. I’ve become the kind of mother that I swore I would never become, the kind that loses her self-control and shouts at her kids hysterically. So, I curse everything that’s holy and look like someone who’s just been let out of a mental hospital.
Who would have guessed while I was at a work meeting, looking so serious and profesional, that all it would take are 3 kids, one Kinder egg and 2 people in a line to make me lose my nerves.
María José Menéndez. Team member of PenguinBag