Do we really need bread?

Four things. I only need four things. This was my mantra as I pulled into the grocery store parking lot yesterday, with a minivan full of children. My children to be exact. Although outings these days aren't as easy as they once were (yeah,right), I decided to forgo the risk that accompanies four small children in a grocery store. After all, I only needed four things.

I unloaded my gang and allowed my two year old the freedom to walk and hold hands with his sister. First mistake. I managed to walk my parade the 30 feet across the parking lot, into the store and right up to the redbox movie machine, (AKA: Date night.) And the meltdown begins. I tried to wait patiently for my two year old to slide the movie into the return slot. I noticed my eight week old begin to stir, and I knew my window of opportunity was closing in. I watched as my two year old stretched as tall as he could to reach the slot and tried to assist without him knowing, but my feeble attempt had failed. The second my finger grazed the machine, the wailing and body thrashing began. I decided I would not be completely controlled by this kid,(at least not this time), and I quickly pried the movie from his hands and shoved it into the box. Within seconds he had flung himself to the ground. And to top it off, at this very moment my hungry infant begins to cry.

As I picked up my baby, I couldn't help but notice the stares, some sympathetic, some just plain annoyed by the commotion. I strained my voice over the screams of both my children and managed to lure my two year old to follow me towards the bakery. I attempted to regain my composure and my thoughts long enough to remember what the heck I had needed at the store in the first place. But as my mind wandered, so did my son--right up to the freshly baked italian bread where he began to slide the loaves out of their paper bags, all the while telling me, "we need this." I motioned for him to put the bread down, and when he didn't comply, I grabbed his little wrist and made a bee-line for the diaper aisle. This pattern continued on as I maneuvered through the store looking for my four items.

We neared the registers and as I pulled into the lane, my sweet child proceeded to grab numerous candy bars and throw them into the cart. With my infant on one arm, I used my other arm to wrestle the candy from his hands and lifted my son into the cart. A feat that had to be seen to believe. As the screams intensified I tried to remain calm long enough to scan my items and pay. Gotta love self-checkout.

I was pretty much to my boiling point as I headed out to the car with two of my four children screaming at the top of their lungs. I lifted my two year old out of the cart, and wrestled him over to the driver side to put him in his carseat. Unfortunately, I could not even get to the driver side, as a large orange pickup had pulled into the parking spot next to mine, so close that only a paper thin person could fit through. And unfortunately, paper thin I am not. At this very moment I actually thought to myself, "Now I understand why people key other peoples cars." Terrible thought,yes, but sadly enough, true. So, I head back around to the other side of the car with my kicking and screaming toddler and catapult him across the baby seat, into his car seat. Once all my children were securely fastened I jump the passenger seat to get to my seat, and sped off towards home.

The moral of the story is this: If you're thinking about going on an outing with all of your children, ask yourself this, "do we really need bread?"