all's well that ends well...almost

I don't know why I think I can do it, and more and more lately I don't. It requires far too much logistical creativity and it leaves me completely exhausted. And let's not forget the whining and the mid-aisle tantrums.

I'm talking about grocery shopping with both boys in tow. These days I try really hard to arrange to go at a time when Blake is home so I can leave the boys with him, especially if it's a bigger trip. But occasionally, when I only have a few things to pick up, I'll take them with me. And hope for the best.

Yesterday was one of those days. I needed to get to the store before the next winter storm hit (predicted to arrive later today) and Blake's busy schedule didn't allow for any little luxuries for me. My list was small, but I had to get milk which meant that I couldn't take the stroller. So I took my cart.

The plan was that on the walk there Caleb would ride in the cart and Garrett would walk. But of course it turned out that Garrett also wanted to ride, and he stomped around our stoop and shouted to let me know that. I was finally able to convince him that helping me to push the cart would be just as awesome as riding in it, and off we went.

At the store I found a grocery cart with hooks on the back so I could fold up and hang my own cart there as I let Caleb ride shotgun in the store's cart. Of course Garrett wanted to ride, too, so, not wanting to deal with another tantrum, I plopped him into the back with the condition that he'd have to get out if it became too crowded with food. He agreed (but I don't think he truly meant it).

With the exception of the difficulty of having to weave around other shoppers through tiny aisles with my own bulky load, the first half of the trip went pretty smoothly. The boys were so pleasant and, because he was being good at the time he made the request, I even had no problem buying Garrett his very own cucumber ("Like Larry!" he said -- he's on a Veggie Tales kick right now). But then the back of the cart filled up with food and in his shifting to making room for himself, Garrett sat on the tomatoes.

"Time to get out," I said, lifting him to the floor.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" he retaliated as he melted down into a fitful puddle on the floor.

Seeing that he lacked an ability to be reasoned with, I resorted to grabbing him by the hand as I dragged him through the rest of the store to get the last few items on my list. He was clearly not happy, and I did my best to ignore him. Caleb, however, was, from his throne in the front of the cart, highly amused at the entire spectacle. (And a spectacle it truly was.)

We somehow managed to get through the checkout line (it helped that I let Garrett put some of the groceries up on the counter), and then it was time to begin the three-block journey home. This time, because my cart was now full of food, Caleb had to walk. I wasn't exactly sure how, logistically, we'd do this, but happily I didn't have to figure it out myself.

After I shuttled everyone outside and as I was trying to think of a plan, Garrett said, offering his hand, "Here Cay-buh. Hold my hand." Caleb accepted the offer. With his remaining available hand, Garrett held onto mine; with my other hand I maneuvered the cart.

And so we slowly walked the entire way home in this manner, holding hands (and squeaking with every step, as Caleb was wearing his squeaking sneakers). "We a twain! Choo choo!" Garrett remarked several times. I was just so pleased that, after all the fits I'd dealt with up this point, Garrett was finally being pleasant. And nice. And cooperative. What a treat!

But of course reality hit again, as it always seems to, as soon as we reached the front door of our building when Caleb angrily made it clear that he wanted to stay and play on the stoop. Oh well, I guess. It was nice while it lasted.