Sometimes I feel that I lack role models for my, er, role. Here I am raising kids Catholic, for instance, when I wasn't a Catholic kid myself. Daily I flounder in the unfamiliar waters of a happy marriage. And I didn't grow up in a family with four kids, either. So I never quite know if I'm doing all that stuff right.
Yesterday the five of us — me and the four children — 10, 7, 4, 1 — went to the grocery store. If I have to do the shopping, we go early in the morning when the store isn't crowded. I think the kids are pretty well-behaved, but I always feel so noisy. The four of them are constantly chattering at me (okay, the baby isn't exactly chattering, but he's not exactly quiet either) and I'm continuously barking orders. You. Go fetch me four lemons. You. Put this back, it's not on our list. You. Watch the cart for a minute. You. Hold this, er, thing. No. Don't give the baby a yogurt to hold, he'll peel the foil off with his teeth again. You. Run back to the produce section and find my grocery list, I think I left it on the tomatoes.
As I said, they are pretty well-behaved, and it goes fairly smoothly. But it's not exactly fun for us all. We are always in a hurry, because we are cutting into our school time, and I want to get home and get it all put away so we can buckle down and get our work done. So I'm barking orders. And they're running back and forth with lemons and tomatoes and boxes of pasta, and my seven-year-old has figured out exactly how to pick the moment when I will answer any request with "Yeah, yeah, right, whatever" and not remember what it is that he asked for. At least I think so. He says I told him yes.
The checkout line is the worst. Around here the grocery store, unless it is a gratuitously fancy one, doesn't provide anyone to bag your groceries. (If the baby is screaming by the time I am checking out, sometimes they call for one out of pity. I do appreciate that.) I have enough trouble navigating this when I'm all by myself: unload cart, run to the end of the belt and bag groceries, keep one eye on the cashier so that when necessary I can pop up and say things like, "That? Oh, that's jicama — no, it's not a rutabaga," run back and swipe my credit card and then run forward again to bag more groceries before they back up on the belt, and so on.
When I have all four children with me, it does go slightly more smoothly because they can help. (And if the baby is screaming, sometimes the cashier calls for a bagger out of pity.) The result is that the chattering and barking reach a peak. I would really like to see my ten- and seven-year-old boys industriously opening bags and packing groceries while my four-year-old daughter and I unload the cart together and the baby makes faces at the people behind us. This does happen, at least for a few moments at a time. I have to keep reminding my seven-year-old that I need him to work.
Yesterday the baby was making faces at a young dad with one small girl ensconced in the little red plastic car that was attached to the front of the cart. I had already sized him up as the type who was likely to make faces back at the baby, thus entertaining the baby and allowing me more time to help pack groceries, er, I mean, bark at the bigger children. "Wow, you've got your hands full," he said as I rifled through my own wallet, and then corrected himself to, "…but I see that you also have a lot of help."
I do, I do have a lot of help.
I wish… I wish right now that I felt able to listen to each one of the children. Sometimes it feels like no child can speak to me, offer to show me something, or ask me a question without interrupting me.
"Mom, can I–"
"Just a minute, I'm talking to your sister."
"Mom, let me show you –"
"Wait a minute, I have to change the baby's diaper."
"Mom, can I ask you a question?"
"Not right now, I'm in the middle of teaching your brother his math lesson."
This is one of those places I could use a role model. I believe it's important to teach kids not to interrupt. But some days it just feels like there is no time they could possibly ask me anything without interrupting. One takes time from the other, all day long. When am I going to listen to this one? To this one? To her? To him? When?