Picture it.
Your young child is behaving majestically. There are please’s and thank you’s, yes and no ma’ams. So, you think to yourself as you walk into Whole Foods, “today will be different. Today, I will teach about self sufficiency. Today, I will let him use the tiny cart.”
From the depths of the soul of the spirit of motherhood, there is a collective “NOOOOOOOOOO!”
And why does the spirit of motherhood bellow? It is because she knows how this will end.
There will be gashes on the ankles of every passer by, multiple smashed wine bottles, the temporary disabling of a sweet 70 year man who was just minding his own business. You know, the norm.
Whomever invented the tiny shopping cart clearly did not have children. They have clearly have never let a child roam on wheels at an excessive speed around wine bottles more expensive than the content of my bank account. (Side note: what is about those carts that automatically turns a child’s tempo to super speed?)
As I reflect on every engagement that we have had with TC (tiny cart), it is definitely metaphor for my struggle with releasing control as a mother. There are mothers who let their children amble around Whole Foods and do not seem the least bit stressed by the perceived disasters.
I envy those mothers.
I wonder if I could ever be that type of mother; the laid back, chilled out, calm individual who never gets ruffled. It would be a breath of fresh air to the mother with the tight jaw who is constantly pulling her shoulders out of her ears.
I already see that my fear of watching my child fail has lead to my intervening in things that he can for sure handle himself. There is nothing wrong with failure and even the giants of Silicon Valley find positivity in failure. When I look at my own life, failure has been my greatest teacher. Denying my child the ability to fail, learn and jump back up is harmful.
So, what would it do for my child if I could let go and let him roam free range with that cart? Would he learn to temper his behavior and bring his tempo from the speed of the Houston Interstate to a leisurely drive through Main Street in New Iberia? Maybe. Would he also make mistakes, break things, and make a general mess? Count on it.
And really, what’s so bad about that?
So, maybe we’ll try it. Me, steeled with courage, my 5 year old steeled with the need for speed, ambling through the Whole Foods, cart next to cart. And maybe, just maybe, I can learn release control, let go, and let life happen.
And, sometimes I may give myself a break and get my groceries delivered to my house so I don’t have to deal with the tiny cart.
It’s called balance.