June 11, 2009

So, I was at Costco the other day with my three kids plus one (the neighbor boy from down the street), working my way through the lunch hour traffic. As we rounded the corner into the meat section, we happened across a sample station offering chips and salsa.

Now, my kids only get chips on rare, special occasions like birthdays and funerals, so you can imagine their ecstatic joy when they noticed Costco was giving away free chips.

We wheeled our way up to the cart and I sternly reminded them to keep their hands off and wait their turns. Then we waited. And waited and waited and waited.

The lady manning the cart was an elderly gal. One look at my enthusiastic brood was all it took for her to decide that we were nothing but a band of beggars. After a few moments of her disapproving glares and failure to pass out samples to us, I began to feel stupid. Besides, it was becoming more and more difficult to keep the hungry wolves at bay.

I finally caught her eye. “Don’t worry about the salsa, chips are fine for them,” I said, smiling.

She just looked at me. The situation was awkward and every additional second I stood there made my anxious kids look worse and worse. Realizing we weren’t going to leave, she finally took one paper cup and put a few chips in it. She handed the portion to me and looked away.

That’s when I realized it. She wasn’t going to give me samples for my children.

“Uh,” I said, trying to fight down the embarrassed panic I felt at being caught in public with so many mouths to feed, “Could I just get a few extra paper cups so I can share these with the kids?”

“No.”

I slouched away, hollering to the kids to stay with me as I tried to hide my beet-stained face. We weren’t worth a few token chips. All I wanted to do was run back to the parking lot, lock and load the kids and race back to the comfort of my non-public kitchen.

Then I got to thinking — I have nothing to be embarrassed about. So what if my kids clapped their hands and jumped up and down in public? They weren’t taking food, pushing her cart over or breaking anything, they were simply excited. Since when was excitement intolerable?

And you know what? Those same little mongrels that she slighted so callously, bring Costco a whole lot of money. I dropped a cool $65 on diapers and wipes alone today, don’t tell me my little June Bug didn’t pay her way.

So I turned around, walked back to the cart and gently told her so. This job is tough and the world seems to become less and less tolerable of families with small children. If someone doesn’t start sticking up for moms, girls will stop wanting to become them.

I’m guessing I wasn’t the first mother she slighted that day, but hopefully I was the last.

See more at Annie's blog at regardingannie.com