My Day in 5 Minutes

"No, Ian, you may not have another piece of gum."

"Wahhhh, scream, whine, complain!"

"The last piece you had, you swallowed it. I'm not giving you anymore today."

"Yeah, Ian, Mommy says no more. But I didn't swallow my gum so I get more. See?"

"No, Yaun! No yo Ian dum. Ian not wahyow dum, Mom. Ian dyop it."

"Whatever Ian. Swallow, drop. It's all the same to me. Shaun! Keep your gum inside your mouth or I will take it away from you!"

"Whine, whine, whine some more! Peese have dum Mom?"

I'm trying to steer my monster cart filled with children through the crowded produce section of my grocery store. Shaun continues to tease Ian with his gum, Ian continues to cry because he doesn't have any (but there's still evidence of the last piece he dropped in the van on the way to the grocery store on his shirt) and Kyle is reaching behind Ian and trying to push his fingers through the holes in the bag of grapes.

"Wow, you must be busy. Are they all yours?"

She's in her 40s and already I don't like her.

"Yes," I reply sweetly. Why is it that whenever I go anywhere with my children people ask me if they're all mine? Of course they're mine. Even if they weren't, what business of yours is it? It's not like I have 9 and they're all following me like little ducklings. I enter into my standard response for situations like this.

"There's 3 years between the 2 older ones, and this one," I place my hand on Kyle's head and he immediately grabs for it and tries to stuff my fingers in his mouth, "was born last winter. There's 16 months between them. It was a busy winter but they keep me young!"

Produce lady puts her hand on Ian's hand and I notice her long painted fingernails. I imagine the griminess crawling under her nails and am relieved when Ian pushes her hand away. She turns to Kyle, touches his spitty hand and quickly pulls her hand away.

"I have 2 boys," she begins, searching her pockets for a kleenex to wipe her hand on.

"Waaaah freaking waaaah! Want dum now Mom!"

"I already told you, no gum."

"... when he was 5 he fell and got so scratched on his knee..."

"Shaun, can you hand me the hand sanitizer from the side pocket?"

"... was working odd hours so thank God my mother..."

"I can't find it Mom."

"Check the other side pocket."

"Det dum Yaun! Ian want mo dum."

"No Ian. No gum."

"Waaaah, freakin' waaaah."

"...this time of year. Pumpkins and squash..."

"I can't find it Mom. It's not here!" Huff and puff and fold arms on your chest.

"Here, let me look."

"... easy, but I made it work. The laundry, oh..."

Found it! Ha! I always know where this stuff is. Nobody can mess with my diaper bag. It's my lifeline to a world beyond my kids. If I can just get them through this stage I'll be free to go and do big girl things. I don't know if I can get through Produce Lady's ramblings though! She's still yaking! Doesn't she see that I'm not listening? I've turned my back on her to dig through the diaper bag and sanitized my 9 month old's hands and picked a half dozen pears and she's still going. Man, I should squirt some sanitizer in her mouth. Maybe that would shut her up.

"... well, enjoy it! This stage goes so quickly."

"Yes it does, doesn't it?" Not quick enough some days, I mutter under my breath.

"Who was that, Mom?" Inquisiting minds want to know.

"I don't know Shaun."

"She had a lot to say, didn't she?"

I glance over my shoulder. Produce lady is rooting through the kiwifruit. "Yes, she did Shaun. She was very friendly, huh?"

"No Tie-yo! Dat's Ian's toat. Yeave hands over dere."

"Waaaah! Wimper. Snuffle."

I grab Ian's coat from Kyle's grasp and throw it under the cart.

"No Mom! Want toat. Waaaah, scream, cry!!!" Well, at least he's past wanting gum now.