The Look

"No! That's my princess Spaghetti-Os!" A wails, reaching dramatically for the cashier, as one might reach for a prized possession being ripped from grasp.

The cashier avoids eye contact and continues scanning groceries. Good move, considering that any engagment at this point might prove explosive. "Mine!" A 's cries escalate. C is nestled soundly in the front carrier. How he is sleeping throught this current spectacle, I have no idea.

"A , stop it." I search my mind desperately for some parental wisdom on grocery store meltdowns. Didn't I read what to do on a bumper sticker in traffic? Ahhh....bringing your undernapped, hungry toddler to the grocery store at five p.m. always results in the same outcome no matter how many times you try for a different result. Yup, that was it.

As I berate myself and try to talk A down, I see it. Slight at first, but growing in intensity at the same pace as A's escalating tantrum. THE LOOK. The disapproving, why can't you control your child, eyebrow raising, lips-pursing look, cast your way several times, so you get the message loud and clear that because your 2-year-old is screaming in the grocery store, that you have somehow failed as a parent. That look, cast authoritatively by a bystander who has all the parenting answers, apparently!

Red-faced, I turn away, apologize to the cashier, and start to hightail it to the car. The bagboy, God bless him, offers to help us to the car. I agree, and as he pushes the cart outside, A screams, "No, my mommy push. My mommy."

"He's helping, Pumpkin. Let's tell him thank you."

The brave, or perhaps crazy, young man unloads the cart and begins to leave when A reaches out, "No, green buggy, come back."

"That is not your green buggy. It belongs to the store. Let's go home and eat Princess noodles."

"Princess noodles?" She calms down. I wearily climb into the car, where A a's behavior has suddenly become as good as gold, which is the way it is 95% of the time. On the way home, I begin to contemplate the look. What good does it do? I wonder. If the purpose is to utterly humiliate and encourage me to feel like a parenting failure then mission accomplished. If it is designed to stop the tantrum, then it does not work, and don't you think I'd be doing that if I could. My goal is simply to purchase the items on my list and leave, not ruin anyone's shopping experience.

And why....why would you want to make someone feel that way? If you've had children, it's shameless. Are you so far removed from toddlerhood that you've forgotten how hungry, tired 2-year-olds behave? Dont' get me wrong? I'll quickly remove that file from my brain, as well, but never so far that I resort to humiliating frazzled moms with my glare of disapproval. If you have yet to have children, how about a little sympathy? Wouldn't an I've-been-there-look with a reassuring smile do so much more. For crying out loud, I have a 9-week-old strapped to my chest, a two-year-old screaming melodramatically in the cart, and did I also mention that I had not had a bath in 2 days? Seriously?!!! Not the time to judge my mommying.

I arrive home, unload children and groceries, and heat up princess O's for A . I recall my prayer earlier for a more humble heart. I guess few things teach humility like my grocery store drama, unless it is falling in Target. I smile, slowly feeling my sense of humor return and say a prayer for parental guidance. Why don't I ever think to pray in the heat of battle? It's always after and usually for forgiveness. How do I expect my kids to learn when God has to teach me the same lesson a thousand times?

Replaying the meltdown in my mind, I wonder how I should have reacted. I meekly scurried by, head down. What I really wanted to do was glare back and stick out my tongue, but I am almost certain that would have sent to wrong message to A and C. I think about how overwhelming it all is-discipline, parenting. The love part is easy! but the rest.....whoa. If I'm going to let a look get me down, perhaps I'm going to need a heavier dose of perspective. I realize it's not really even about the look; it's about my own fears and feelings of inadequacy, how I don't have all the answers or strategies, especially when it seems that everyone else does. Sometimes I wonder if I have any answers. I decide to forgive the look lady and move on....as evidenced by my blogging about it:) If anything, tanturms and the subsequent looks they provide usually drive me to my knees in prayer, and I figure that's a pretty good place for a parent to be anyway.