"You're going to miss that when they're older."
I hear this all the time. I get it. I know there are a lot of things about motherhood I will miss when my babies get older but I have to tell you there are also an equal number of things I am not going to miss one tiny bit.
For example, I will never miss changing a diaper. Not gonna miss it. Not once. Aside from the normal, diaper changing duties for toddlers everywhere, we also have an older child who is not fully potty trained (thank you, autism). I'll admit to getting a little (or a lot) annoyed, frustrated, even angry, when I have to put yet another pull-up on him. But, you guys, the day we don't have to use diapers anymore in this house, there will be a party. There will be cake and ice cream and fireworks. I might even hire a petting zoo and give out pony rides for free. This day, secretly called, "The Day of No Diapers" in my mind, Will. Be. Epic.
I'm also not going to miss getting an 18 month old dressed. For those of you that have never had the pleasure, imagine dressing an octopus except the octopus is super angry so all eight of his arms (or are they legs?) are synchronously moving in opposite directions. Then add screaming. And biting. That's pretty close what it's like to dress a young toddler. This, incidentally, should be an Olympic sport; I've been training for ten years now.
I will not miss buckling a child into a car seat. This is almost like dressing a toddler except from some hidden depth in their tiny little bodies, toddlers find body strength to rival The Hulk. It's not unusual to see a mom laying on top of their child as they try to buckle them in. But the experience does not end when the last snap is done. Oh, no. Now, for the next twenty minutes, your angry little human will let you know as only angry little humans can exactly how terrible it is to be buckled in. (Pro-Tip for you: Turn the radio up. It drowns out the wailing).
But, what I truly loathe with a burning fire of a thousand fires is taking my children to the grocery store. Is there a fate worse than death? I'm not really sure but death seems pretty peaceful to me after a short (Ha!), easy (Yeah, right) trip to the store with kids in tow.
Here's what this usually looks like: Today I had three of the four with me (Gideon was in therapy). I had a list (in my head, of course, which is stupid) and I wanted to get in and out expediently. Before walking into the store, I doled out threats and promises of candy if we could just make it through without screaming, running away, or knocking down any displays (yes, that happened once. Apparently the stacks of toilet paper were just too much for Gideon to deal with. But, hey, at least it wasn't glass jars of tomato sauce).
All the children nod in understanding when they hear both the threats and promises. I really do think their intentions are good in the beginning but about 53 seconds into the store, a pattern emerges. First, Daniel, age 10, doesn't want to be at the store. Or walk. So he's dragging 20 feet behind me. Ben, age 8, would like to get to the candy at the end so he's rushing though. He's 20 feet out in front. Katherine is determined to not stay seated so she's already wriggled out of the safety belt 96 times and is now wailing away because I insist she stay seated. (Note to grocery cart manufacturers everywhere: Please consider placing five point harnesses on grocery carts. Or cages. Either one would sure help keep my kid in her seat).
I try very hard to avoid all whine-inducing aisles like anything with candy, cookies, ice cream, and chips. (Although this whole trip is wine-inducing for me). I do pretty well. But I'm not celebrating yet because Katherine grabs a box of macaroni and cheese as we whiz past. I pry it out of her tiny little hand infused with super human strength and set off a series of gnashing of teeth and pounding of chest by my little princess (Suuuure. Princess). Ben comes back to soothe his sister but makes it worse because now she wants to get out and walk like "Bubba." She lets us all know that by yelling. And Daniel? He finally catches up to us but because he's not paying attention, he runs into an end cap of toothpaste. (Neither he nor any toothpaste were harmed in this story).
By this time, I have exactly three items in my cart. One was on my list; two "appeared" when I wasn't paying attention. At this point, I. Don't. Care. I just want out of this place. Finally, we make it to the checkout. Oh, look, more trouble. A whole rack of candy and gum, all just waiting for my children to beg. But, again, I don't care anymore. Get whatever you want, kids. Throw a whole box of M&M's in the cart. 15 packs of gum? Great.
Can we please, please, please just make it to the van?
All the children nod in understanding when they hear both the threats and promises. I really do think their intentions are good in the beginning but about 53 seconds into the store, a pattern emerges. First, Daniel, age 10, doesn't want to be at the store. Or walk. So he's dragging 20 feet behind me. Ben, age 8, would like to get to the candy at the end so he's rushing though. He's 20 feet out in front. Katherine is determined to not stay seated so she's already wriggled out of the safety belt 96 times and is now wailing away because I insist she stay seated. (Note to grocery cart manufacturers everywhere: Please consider placing five point harnesses on grocery carts. Or cages. Either one would sure help keep my kid in her seat).
I try very hard to avoid all whine-inducing aisles like anything with candy, cookies, ice cream, and chips. (Although this whole trip is wine-inducing for me). I do pretty well. But I'm not celebrating yet because Katherine grabs a box of macaroni and cheese as we whiz past. I pry it out of her tiny little hand infused with super human strength and set off a series of gnashing of teeth and pounding of chest by my little princess (Suuuure. Princess). Ben comes back to soothe his sister but makes it worse because now she wants to get out and walk like "Bubba." She lets us all know that by yelling. And Daniel? He finally catches up to us but because he's not paying attention, he runs into an end cap of toothpaste. (Neither he nor any toothpaste were harmed in this story).
By this time, I have exactly three items in my cart. One was on my list; two "appeared" when I wasn't paying attention. At this point, I. Don't. Care. I just want out of this place. Finally, we make it to the checkout. Oh, look, more trouble. A whole rack of candy and gum, all just waiting for my children to beg. But, again, I don't care anymore. Get whatever you want, kids. Throw a whole box of M&M's in the cart. 15 packs of gum? Great.
Can we please, please, please just make it to the van?
And blessedly, we do. By the time I slide into my seat, I'm sweaty, disillusioned with life and questioning my ability to parent. My pants are ripped and the buttons on my shirt are mismatched now (How in the Heck?!?!). It is, of course, as I am pulling out of the parking lot that I realize the one thing, the very thing I had to go to the store for? Yeah, I forgot it.
So, why in the blazes am I taking my children to the grocery store with me? It sounds horrible, right? It is. But one thing I've learned as both a parent and an autism mom is this: if you want your kids to change their behavior, you have to give them opportunities to practice. That's something all of us parents know, right? I mean, if you want a baby to eat a new food, you have to feed it to them 17,497 (rough estimate) before they don't spit it in your face anymore. If you want bedtime to go smoothly, you build a routine and then you follow it until it sticks.
Our two boys with autism have been in ABA (Applied Behavior Analysis) therapy for years. I've done parent meetings and training sessions more times then I can count. One of the tenants of ABA therapy is repetition, doing the same thing over and over again until the skill is mastered. (Some of you homeschooling moms know what I mean by that too). When Daniel was around five, a therapist started coming to the store with us to help us "practice shopping." At first, it was awful. He refused to stay in the cart, let alone walking next to it. But months of practice (and I mean, months), he was able to calmly walk next to me in the grocery store while holding onto the cart. He was quiet and attentive, well mannered, even polite. He was like a different kid. But it taught me a lesson--practice, with patience (both his and mine), does work.
How my kids act and how I react are both areas I need to work on. A lot. Look, it's not going to be pretty. Grocery shopping (or whatever place or thing you'd like to substitute in there) isn't going to magically become awesome. It's going to take a lot of reminders for my kids on how we act at the grocery store, why we do this and not that. It's going to take a lot of deep breaths and prayer under my breath but eventually, we'll get it.
Now, I'm not advocating two hour grocery excursions every other day. We're taking it slow. A short trip once a week is about all I can handle. But these little trips help us transition into trips to the zoo or a museum or shoe shopping (yeah, there's a story there too). They carry over into other areas too. Being patient with my kids is, well, hard for me sometimes. I find myself staying in a rut (like staying at home all the time) just so I don't have to deal with the "hassle" and the conflict. I want to be able to take our whole family somewhere without them acting like crazies (relatively speaking, of course). If I stay at home, they can't learn how to behave at public places and they miss out on a lot of experiences. As an autism mom, I'm careful about where we choose to go because I have to take other things (sensory issues, elopement issues, etc) into account but that doesn't mean I get to avoid the hard task of training up kids who can act appropriately (I will settle for okay-ish) in public.
So, I'm doing this (even though I don't want to). I know it may seem silly. I know you may have conquered the grocery store long ago. I know you may have perfectly behaved children but for us?Little steps, baby steps. As long as we're making small progress, it's still progress. So, yes, friends, I hate taking my kids to the grocery store but this summer, I'm going to change that, one aisle at a time.
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Guess what? A Stone's Throw from Perfection now has its very own Facebook page. It needs friends. Can you help? Click here to join: A Stone's Throw From Perfection Facebook page
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Guess what? A Stone's Throw from Perfection now has its very own Facebook page. It needs friends. Can you help? Click here to join: A Stone's Throw From Perfection Facebook page
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