The craziness and meltdowns that followed the disappointment of not going, caused too much work (oh Sudocrem I hate you!) and tiredness. I was challenged at every point. I was slower at every task. I forgot things. I went to bed after 1 am, feeling that overwhelming sense of failure. And so this morning was somewhat of a blur: doing hair, drink bottles in bags, and forgotten school notes.
It wasn't until I was sitting at Daisy's dancing that I had the chance to think about what was happening for the rest of the day. Another mum asked me what we were up to after dancing. I couldn't think. Having to be honest I told her I hadn't really thought about it, but as the lack of essentials flooded my mind, I concluded that I would have to do some grocery shopping. Following the Sudocrem vs lounge fiasco yesterday, at the very least I needed tissues. They are extremely necessary in a house of 7 people. My Costco reserve shelf was empty, so we have been shopping at night once every few days. Unfortunately tonight this was impossible, so this was the one and only opportunity.
Not thinking much of it, I left dancing with Daisy and headed for the local shopping centre. As I helped Daisy out of the car I felt a little uncertain. It was after all her snack time, and I had no snacks. She is also not a fan of lots of people and noise. Being the homebody she is, she loves quiet and calm. I shook off my concerns. This is Daisy, I told myself. She is easy and I'll be in and out in no time.
Only I wasn't.
Having not gone shopping much in the daytime for years (other than at crazy, fast afternoon times) I had forgotten that the pace of day time trolleys is much slower. Much slower. I reminded myself to be patient and smiled at all the people wanting to say 'hi' to Daisy, or others who wanted to tell me how cute she looked. And then we reached the baby food section. She has what she calls a "squeezy fruit" when I wake her to pick the kids up from school, because she is too tired to eat. Daisy saw them and naturally wanted one. It was an hour after snack time, but I managed to convince her to wait, thinking we wouldn't be too much longer, and hid them at the bottom of the trolley. With the tears avoided I tried to quickly move on. Trolleys seemed to move slower.
Then she saw rice milk in the cold food section. Her rice milk. In the last isle.
She completely lost it.
It had been too long. It had been too slow. She was hungry and I hadn't packed my bag with anything other than a nappy and dance stuff in the morning. The squeezy fruit pack was under a massive pile of too many things.
She was done. So she cried.
And understanding why, knowing there was really nothing I could do to fix it for her in that moment, I did the only thing I could do. I gave her a hug. I stroked her hair as she cried, and told her it would be all over soon. She calmed a little and we made it to the register, where she began crying once again. I picked her up and cuddled her, as I unloaded the trolley one handed (at the speed of years of experience.) Finally, with the trolley unpacked and her food found, she settled, tired but thankful back in the trolley ready to go home.
On the drive home I had a moment in my own thoughts to reflect.
There are some big decisions in the process of being made in our home right now. Decisions that although mainly concern only one child, will have the ripple affect in the years to come for the others. For all of us in fact. The hugeness of this has had a somewhat crippling affect on my ability to make decisions. Like everything with my children I am conscious of the repercussions that can result from big decisions.
It all comes down to the fact, that the hard thing about making decisions is just: I don't want us to make the wrong choice.
After today with Daisy though, I am reminded that often a decision just has to be made for the good of our family. And experience reminds me that sometimes I won't make the right choice. At times it might not even be close to the best choice. But usually, this can only be seen in hindsight. Like the moment when a toddler starts crying in the cold foods section of a supermarket. Perhaps though, it isn't so much the 'right' decision that really matters. Maybe what is really important is what comes after. Maybe it's what I do in response to what comes next.
Sometimes all there is, is jumping in, eyes wide open, all together, waiting to find out where we land. Waiting; ready to smile and embrace in pure happiness, or to simply be there to catch each other when we fall, for the hugs and tears.
Either way, it's not really the decision in itself that matters. It's the jumping together. And the being there. And the hugs, to the exclusion of the outside world. That is what makes a family, and children strong enough to make it in the world beyond. For my children, it's knowing that no matter what, Craig and I will be always there. Waiting to be what they need in the time that comes after.
No, I won't always make the best decisions for my children. I won't. And that hurts so much to admit and commit to words.
But.
But I will always be there to jump with them if they need me to.
And I will always be there to hug them when it all gets too much, and they have had enough.
Even if it is in the middle of a supermarket, surrounded by slow trolleys.
Jen.x
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