Shopping, Two Toddlers and Insanity

Two Toddlers and A Shopping Trolley

Each time I chase my older toddler about the supermarket, whilst the
younger one either climbs out of the dinky seat or steals the more
interesting food from the back of the trolley, I swear I'll never do it
again. I'll hire a babysitter, I'll even wait till 11.30pm, just after
the little treasures have nodded off, and utilise the modern wonder of
twenty-four hour shopping. I'm so frazzled by my lack of control over
two cherubic looking creatures I'd agree to anything. Anything to get
them to stay in and next to the shopping trolley or not to climb out of
the firm straps of the expensive double stroller I have just purchased
to counter subversive behaviour. Oh, I'd also like them not to conform
to media stereotypes and grab or demand mass marketed, high in all that
is artificial, processed foods in voice levels that don't qualify as
noise pollution.

The baby sitter option, of course, is wishful thinking on my part.
Every time I see an ad for a sitter, I carefully note the number, the
act itself helping to release my tension. I have never even begun to
dial a number. Once the initial calm has restored my rationality, the
thought of calling a number attached to a few words stuck on the local
independent supermarket notice board, right along side ads for wondrous
uses of an electric eel and the local Yoga group, fills me with horror.
I'm sure these people are wonderful and I may very well be lucky enough
to encounter a Mary Poppins, but the idea of setting up a nanny cam
around the house doesn't thrill me. These two little munchkins may well
give Dennis the Menace and Angelica Pickle a run for their money, but
they are, when cuddling, kissing, reaching milestones, generally
looking adorable and especially when sleeping, my precious babes. I'd
like to at least have a recommendation of a paragon of carer
perfection, but these adopted nanas and aunties/uncles always seemed to
be taken, very selfishly I believe, by babes of eighty hours a week
working parents. I mean, how dare they hog all the good carers and
offer their children stability and the carer the security of a decent
income when I need to get my grocery shopping done? I think I'll give
the local Yoga group a call.

I've joined the twenty-first century and test driven internet shopping.
This was fine when the youngest would sleep for more than forty winks
and was only half a metre, with body movement limited to basic arm
waving. Now that the little one has developed her sixth sense, waking
as I switch on the PC and can reach the keyboard, I find that what
should take half an hour turns into two as she miraculously clears my
basket as I head for the checkout. As for the older treasure, I
mistakenly showed him the ABC for Kids website, so each time I sign on,
his negotiation begins. When I have actually managed to take delivery
of items, an event I anticipate with great excitement, I often realise
I've forgotten crucial things like milk and bread and find I have
purchased six kilos of bean sprouts. Even without the help of my
precious ones, one company I have used has consistently delivered
someone else's not-so-goodies in place of a bag containing my meal plan
for that evening, issuing me a significant 'credit' for use with them
next time I tempt cyber fate. I now have a 97\% fat free chocolate cake
mix in my pantry, which would be okay if I possessed a baking tin or
beaters, and my 'account' with the dot com market holds more than my
savings one.

Consequently, I have decided that I'm indeed better off contributing to
my sleep deprivation and doing the midnight run. I'll wait till their
fed and bathed, till Dad has had a little play and they're fed again.
This goes on for hours. The oldest found a loophole in the Tweedle
system and has never slept more than eight hours in one go for two
nights a week. As I'm no masochist, I'm not even game to go down that
road with the second little treasure, and she still feeds in the night.
Whatever it takes to get a block of four to six hours sleep!

Will I enjoy the tranquillity of lone shopping, the ability to ponder
over life changing decisions such as wholemeal or wholemeal with
multigrain? Or will putting the cold and frozen bits and bobs away when
I should be snoring be enough to drive me to venture out once again
with the two toddlers and a shopping trolley?