Just before I was about to dig out the lentils, I bundled the kids in the car to replenish our dwindling appetising cupboard stocks.
I’d successfully navigated past the little person ride-on machines without Babe having to climb onto each one for a pretend ride. I’ve never given in to putting coins in those machines because I know that somehow we would be cursed to frequent their services upon every visit in the future. Or pay the whining price (don’t get me on my hatred for whining; shout, cry, stamp your feet but for crying out loud don’t whine child).
Anyways, I stumbled upon an hour within the supermarket that took me through a spiral of emotions. From thinking ‘oh bloody hell’ when baby Boyo projectile vomitted my good milk across the biscuit/egg isle floor, to the kind lady on the check-out that saw I was busy nursing the boy when it came to packing the bags, that she insisted I go sit down to feed him while she packed my bags and fed Babe with chocolate. I was truly touched by her kindness. Big up to big supermarket service, I thought I’d never say that!
Two minutes later some turd of an aged man decided to then wash away that nice happy glow I had as I walked out the store with giant trolly of shopping and three year old while carrying a baby. Without any consideration of the weight and manoeuvring issues of such a load he decided to charge towards the entrance down a narrow path which I was trying to stay on without bashing anyone’s car. Instead of giving way to me he carried on, and so did I. Half of me thought he’d stop and let me through, the other half thought, screw you I’m coming through wether I bash into you or not. Bash we did, and his hand got smushed. He looked up and said ‘ouch’. I looked up and said nothing. I was not sorry and on this occasion I wasn’t going to say it just to be polite. I hope that was a gentle lesson learned for him.
To conclude, don’t mess with me when I have my babies and food is involved. I have no mercy 😉