My Circus

I pull out of the driveway and the whining and complaining starts. The clock is closing in on 5:30 and no one has eaten yet. Kyle ditches his suckie on the floor of the van which is already littered with dead raisins, smooshed granola bars, juice box straws and Little Critter books. Great, I think, we're off to a great start. I'd better feed this side show before I do the groceries or I'll never get out of there alive; and neither will they. It's not like I have a big shop to do. Enough to get us through the weekend and maybe Monday; some milk and cheese and oatmeal and fruit for Shaun's school snack. Half an hour -- tops.

"Hold my hand or hold Shaun's," I tell Ian.

"No Mom, Ian's walk by self. No hold Saun's hand."

"Shaun, hold your brother's hand please." The diaper bag is stuffed with my whole life and slung over my shoulder. I can't turn too quickly or it'll slide off and dump all the contents on the wet pavement in the parking lot. Kyle is dripping off my hip and I struggle to readjust him with my only free leg. Ian is drifting further into the cars' driving aisle as we walk towards the grocery store entrance. Shaun offers Ian his hand.

"No Saun, no hold hands. Ian's walk by self." He walks a little quicker and I shout to Shaun to keep up because we're crossing the main freeway of the parking lot. Ian's leading, I'm struggling with Kyle who I'm now holding by his waist; his legs dangling behind me. Shaun is bringing up the rear, commenting on the Ironman mask on display for the 184th time.

"Here, let's take a cart." Kyle is quickly buckled in and I realize I didn't dig his suckie off the van floor. Crap. I'll have to go back. There's no way he'll last without it. I jam Ian into the seat, kicking and screaming he wants to walk, and Shaun climbs into the front. Whatever. It'll be quicker this way.

Back to the van we go.

"Weeeeeeee! I like riding in the cart, Mom!"

"No Mom! Ian's ride wit Saun in tart. Ian's no sit wit Tiyo."

"Enough Ian, it's not for long. We just have to get back to the van so I can grab Kyle's suckie. You can walk when we get back inside."

This explanation seems to satisfy Ian and he sits quietly, only commenting on a blue car here or a big bird there. When we get to the van I dig through the stickiness on the floor of the van. I really need to vacuum this thing, I've been telling myself for months it needs to be done. On my next day off. I feel my hand close on his suckie and I pull it up. Hmm, raisins don't go bad, do they? I pull off the raisin and blow off the hair and clip the suckie back to Kyle's coat. He smiles and maneuvers it into his mouth.

Close the door, lock it. Back into the grocery store we go.

"Weeeeeeeee! Hey Mom, can I ride in the cart all the time? This is really fun and my legs don't get sore from walking. Oh look, the Ironman mask. I'm going to save my allowance and buy that mask Mom. It costs fifty dollars and I've counted -- I have almost ten dollars. So maybe in 10 more weeks I'll have fifty dollars. Do you know what I'm going to buy after the Ironman mask?"

I'm steering the rattling cart in between shoppers pushing carts laden with bags brimming with groceries. When we get to the other side of the store where the hot deli is Shaun hops out and points to a piece of chicken schnitzel. I ask the blonde teen behind the counter for the schnitzel and he places it in a small paper box and hands it to me. I grab a salad and a bento box of sushi and stand in line to pay. Kyle has forgotten about his suckie and is turning around trying to grab the box of sushi. Ian is crying that he wants pizza. Shaun is gone; running ahead to the eating area.

We always eat at the same table. It's right beside the garbage can, just on the other side of the wall from the microwave so I can warm Kyle's food and supervise the side show, and is at the end of the aisle so the cart can park beside us and contain all our gear. As I round the corner I notice there's someone sitting at our table and Shaun is talking to her.

"...and we usually sit here. My Mom needs this table for me and my brothers."

"Hi. No, please don't move. We're fine. Here Shaun, let's sit at the next table. There's plenty of room and the cart doesn't have to be right beside us." I start to unload the Littles while Shaun makes himself comfortable. Everyone is hungry and whining. Kyle is frantically gnawing on the edge of the table from his highchair. I toss his container of leftover spaghetti into the microwave and smile at the woman as I walk past. It's okay, I tell myself, it's only a few feet further. No worries. Kyle is hyperventilating; he's so desperate to eat. Geez, when did he eat last? Three something? I'm sure he had some yogurt a couple of hours ago.

"Ding, Mom. Tiyo's food's ready!"

I hear the microwave beeping over Kyle's frantic whining and rush to finish cutting the schnitzel and mix the salad before pulling the sizzling pureed spaghetti out. Kyle sees his dish and goes mental. At least the Bigs have their food. I try desperately to offer Kyle his suckie while I huff and puff on his food. He's completely insulted and is determined to let me know.

Eventually we all get the chance to eat. I learn that Ian loves sushi.

Kyle barfs all down his one and only shirt after gulping water and having it fall down the wrong hole. Ohmygawdwhatamess. Why oh why didn't I pack extra clothes for Kyle? All I have is a size 2 long sleeve t-shirt for Ian. It'll have to do and I roll up the sleeves after tugging it onto Kyle's round head.

We're quite the sight collecting our garbage that has been strewn across 4 small round tables. There's a fair buffet under Kyle's highchair, complete with a side of spaghetti barf. Thank goodness for a slew of shea butter scented diaper wipes and a stash of Lysol wipes in the diaper bag. The table's good as new. The floor will have to wait for a broom and dustpan and a mop.

In the produce section Shaun keeps Ian entertained by dancing and singing the Spiderman theme song and pretending to sling webs and swing on them. It's quite the show until Ian shouts, "Ian's have poo Mom! Poo's comin' now, Mom!"

I'm immediately on overdrive. I toss the cauliflower into the cart, tell Shaun we need to leave right now and start trotting to the closest washroom, all while pushing the cart carrying Ian and supporting Kyle who's nestled against my chest in the wrap. The rent-a-cop at the main doors chuckles and says something about my being back so soon. I ignore him, yank Ian out of the cart and ask Shaun to crab the diaper bag and follow me.

"Ian's wants push button," he whines. There's an automatic door going into the washroom for wheelchair use. If there's poo in his pants I'm going to lose my mind. I let him push the button anyway and we wait the painfully slow 4 seconds for the door to open before rushing in and piling into the tiny stall. Ian's breathing deeply now so I know he's anxious.

"Mom, I don't need to go into the toilet room, okay? I'll stand right here. Or maybe I'll just wait outside the bathroom. Actually I do need to pee. I'll go to the bathroom beside this one. It's the one with a boy on the door and you're not allowed in there because you're not a boy. You're a girl because you have a -"

"That's enough, Shaun." I interrupt him just in time. "Choose your stall. You're staying in the washroom."

Ian's having success on the toilet. Only Kyle is uncomfortable because I'm kneeling and his head is dangling out of the wrap. He adjusts his suckie and sighs.

Once we're back out in the grocery store, Shaun is wired and bouncing all over the place. He crashes into the first display we come to. He's not hurt but is embarassed and pouts for the next 10 minutes. Eventually he perks up and he and Ian are back to being goofy. By now Kyle is starting to doze and I'm done with this grocery business. Half an hour - ha! Who was I kidding?! Only myself apparently because it's been an hour an a half since I first pulled into my parking space and I'm only now walking back to the front of the store to the check--

SMASH! "Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Shaun's bouncing has earned him a nice goose egg on his forehead, courtesy of a Campbell's soup display. I'm stunned. Shaun's sobbing. Ian's picking his nose. Kyle's snoring.

I pile our few items onto the conveyor belt. Milk, apples, chicken breasts, broccoli.

"Uh oh Mom." Three words a mother never wants to hear from her 2 year old. "Ian's made big mess. Ian's sorry Mom."

He's holding a white lid in his right hand and an empty cranberry juice single serve in the other. The cranberry juice is dripping off our coats below where Ian is sitting and pooling on the white floor in a sticky puddle.

"Mooooooommmmmmm, that's MY juice! I was saving that for tomorrow when I have breakfast. I was going to have Kellogg's Frosted Flakes and milk. Did you know 'they're grrrreat'? That's Tony the Tiger who says that. Do you remember seeing tigers at the zoo Mom? It was so hot that day and they were hiding under the trees but we still saw them..."

All I can do is hang my head and apologize to the cashier. Me and my circus. My barfy, poopy, head-bangin', juice spillin' side show. Admission is free. Bring extra clothes and Tylenol.