Supermarket Meltdowns, Hugs & Ringo Starr

Thomas and I had a few items to pick up from the supermarket on our way home.  Always eager to help, Thomas likes pulling the wheeled basket along behind him and eating the free fruit the shop puts out for kids.  The two of us usually have fun together at the supermarket.

When we got to the supermarket, there were no wheeled baskets and the fruit box was empty.  You can probably guess how the rest of this story goes.

Thomas, being 2, insisted on carrying the regular basket with only handles himself.  It was awkward and heavy for him but I gave him a chance to try and to see for himself that he couldn’t manage it.  Uncharacteristically, he was getting himself in knots over it and our shopping wasn’t getting done.  In the end, I had to insist that I would carry the basket myself.  I was ready for crying and complaints but not for what came next.

Tears, screaming, pulling at me and the basket.  He had himself in hysterics.  I am not exaggerating when I say the whole supermarket could hear Thomas – and I could sense their ears listening.  I needed the few items on my shopping list and I knew it wouldn’t take long so I forged ahead.

But I had a choice to make about how I was going to forge ahead – with love or with fear.  I chose love.  And I mean self-love, not love for Thomas (bless him).  He was in no state for reason or, even, comfort.  He just needed his moment.  So I mentally detached myself from Thomas.  I detached myself from the shoppers and the staff.  I detached from my embarrassment.  “My child’s behaviour is not a reflection of me or my parenting,” I told myself as I charged down the aisles on my mission to get our essentials and get out of there. (Well, limped, really, as Thomas was semi-attached to me – but with the conviction of charging.)

I sensed the discomfort of the staff and shoppers at being witness to the scene I was responsible for.  My strength was wavering as I was heading for the one last thing I needed when…a stranger came up to me and said, “Excuse me, can I give you a hug?”.  She gave me a firm squeeze and said I was doing a good job.  With her kindness and understanding, I was fortified enough to finish my job with composure both within and without.  I am so appreciative of her support and, whoever you are – thank you, enormously.

I headed straight for the self-check-out as standing in queue wasn’t an option.  Like the parting of the red seas, people made room for me and my red-faced child.  A staff member pointed me to the next available check-out.  The customer at the check-out next to me offered to scan my groceries through for me.

The whole ordeal felt like forever but was probably under five minutes, due to everyone’s effort.  They and I both wanted us out of there!

By the time we got to the car, Thomas was hitting me in his frustration and overwhelm.  I simply told him, “no hitting, hitting hurts”.  He wasn’t in a place to receive any lessons. I figured I’d let him get it out and offer him comfort when he was ready to receive it. (see my post Helping Children to Manage Difficult Emotions)

So I had the joy of driving home with Thomas screaming in the back seat.  By the time we pulled up outside our house, he had quietened somewhat but told me he wanted me to keep driving and to listen to “Yellow Submarine”, which we’ve been playing a lot of in the car recently.  So I ended up reversing back down the driveway and cruising around the suburb with “Yellow Submarine” on repeat.  I looked in my rear vision mirror and Thomas was happy in the back seat, pretending to play the trombone along with the music.  He was reset.

That morning, I had listened to a podcast interview with Gabrielle Bernstein, author of The Universe Has Your Back as I was filling lunchboxes.  The interviewer had asked her, “How do you know the Universe has your back?”  This is how I know – the hugging stranger, the eager helpers at the self-checkout, Ringo Starr.  My quick stop at the supermarket didn’t go the way I would have had it, but there was help for me everywhere I turned.  I love the title of Gabby’s book and it is a truth I want my boys to know.

Much love to you and your little souls,

 

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