Learning Humility

Humility can be learned at Costco. I hate Costco runs. They are an enormous amount of work in and of themselves, and are followed by an enormous amount of work packing, unloading, and restocking our kitchen (that wasn't designed with Costco trips for a family of 6 in mind). In California, as far as I have been able to discover, Costcos are always jam packed with people. So I try to go during the week when at least some of the throngs are at work. This means we must quickly bust through homeschool in the morning and squeeze in a Costco run between homeschool and swimming lessons and be back by 2:50 to pick up Ethan from school. I pack a cooler, and try to streamline everything possible to make our trip efficient. Efficient and four-year-olds are antonyms. Efficient and four-year-olds with FASD are uber-antonyms. I am not setting up myself, or my children to be successful with this little Costco stunt. And this is how I found myself stuck with a cart full of $300 worth of mostly unpaid for groceries covered in urine. Can I just say that there is NO GOOD WAY to handle this situation. There is some obligation, I think, to finish ones purchase. And besides we needed those groceries, and the total excess of packaging actually protected everything from real urine damage. The produce and meat were already paid for, everything else was just drippy and needed to be hosed off and have the shrink wrap removed. But it was awkward for the check-out guy, and the people in line. (Incidentally, all but the check-out guy decided to move lines, as, apparently, long waits are preferable puddles of pee.) Also, it is awkward for the 8 and 10 year old siblings who are trying to all at once disappear, be helpful, and not slip in puddles of urine. And the people watching me haul a pee drenched kid to the bathroom, dripping the whole way there, felt a little uncomfortable with the situation, I think. And the four year old, was less than comfortable. She clearly communicated this by screaming and flailing. Ever notice how those big warehouse stores are kinda all echoey and tend to amplify noise? If I had any ego left about superior parenting skills, it has gone the way of the rolls of paper towels drenched in pee. But I am wiser, and more humble. I used to judge parents who let their children watch too much TV, or forgot to make their children comb their hair. i used judge when their children asked for candy in the check-out lines. I used to judge. No longer. Because sometimes life just goes that way, and the best you can do looks like groceries covered in urine.

All because of a Jalapeño

Yesterday evening I had a meeting to attend. I left Eddie in charge just the hysteria was hitting full stride.

I'd made southwestern chicken salad for dinner, which seems innocuous enough. Until, Ethan decided to spice things up, by slicing raw jalapeños on his dinner. I suggested that this may be going overboard, and recommended he take a small sample before he sold out to the jalapeño ridden chicken salad. With one small bite the hollering and hyperventilating began. Which set into motion a series of "I dare you" stupidities. Emma ended up sobbing and blowing bubbles into a glass of milk trying to get it to cool down her flaming lips. Puffy eyed, puffy lipped, red faced with milk dripping down her chin, she couldn't understand why she was hard to take seriously. Watching the drama unfold Caleb decided it would be funny to feed a jalapeño to the dog. And when didn't produce the reaction he was looking for he decided to sword fight his baby sister. She, unexplainably, ended up with the blunt tip of a purple plastic light saber jammed into her eye socket.

Which is when I decided to leave.

Apparently, more drama unfolded after my departure -something to do with jalapeño juice in some kid's eyes.

It was a three ring circus.

About half way to my meeting I started to giggle. Because, if it wasn't happening at my house, and it wasn't my children it would be down right comical in a sort of horrific way. 5 miles down the highway I could find the humor that evaded in the moment. Even now I can't quite put my finger on why the giggles kept erupting; I imagine it has something to do with the level of chaos that seemingly sprung out of nowhere, and how often that moment of time can become a metaphor for a bigger slice of my life.