I Need to Stop Apologizing for My Children (And Why You Should Too)

Taking my children out of the house has always been a chore. Ever since my second born was no longer happily strapped into the baby seat of a grocery cart my life got a whole lot more difficult. Then came the third born, who even at his less than charming terrible 2’s/horrendous 3’s does pretty well in a store. But that meant the second born, my bright, energetic little boy who doesn’t know how to sit still, was unencumbered.

The boundaries I set for my children will be different from other families. My children are different from other children. I do my best to get them to behave appropriately for each environment. When we at the grocery store, I remind them to use inside voices, but I know their excitement over seeing their favorite box cereal or apparently suddenly remembering that bananas exist will produce some extra vocal enthusiasm.

I will not allow them to run around the store. But I will let them walk a few paces ahead of or behind me. If I tell them I am moving to the next aisle and they don’t hear me the first or second time. You will see me go ahead without them. I know they will catch up.

Yes, my son will roll on the floor. I know it is disgusting, I’ve mostly made my peace with it. I do my very best to try and keep him out of the way of other shoppers. I will occasionally bump him with my cart fairly hard when he stops moving too suddenly and won’t start again. Sometimes I run over his foot. It isn’t on purpose but it happens.

My older two children will probably fight with each other, if not also their brother who is still strapped into the cart. I will often place my cart nearly in the center of the aisle so the toddler cannot reach either side to pull things off the shelves. He isn’t deliberately misbehaving, he is just two and a half years old.

I will choose the widest checkout aisle because my son needs not to be pressed up against the displays of candy and kids coloring book. I will remind him not to pick up the books (even though I know he likely still will) but I know he has trouble not touching them at all. I will let them help me put things on the conveyor belt, because I want them to learn.

I will apologize if my children make a mess. I will help clean it up, and make them help. But I will not apologize for bringing them into a store.

I could explain to you that my daughter has that obnoxious look on her face because she hates grocery stores and food. Because she’s only had a Celiac diagnosis for a few months and she is still very angry, and hungry and most days I’m happy she eats anything at all. At least she sleeps now.

If I had time I would tell you how my six year old has a gifted mind but portions of his brain let him down. I could describe the definition of sensory processing disorder and executive function issues. I could try to make you understand that today we just came from occupational therapy and they pushed him pretty hard, so he is exhausted and I’m just trying to get us through the store and home as quickly as possible. But I shouldn’t have to do that.

Thank you, to the man who says hello and holds a random conversations with my son who can’t help but greet every person he meets and ask them if they’ve seen Star Wars. Thank you to the woman in the checkout line who tells my daughter she’s being a good helper as I try to quickly empty our shopping cart and pay.

Thank you to all the silent angels who default to smiles and kindness rather than scowls and judgement when they see me and my kids coming. They will never learn how to behave in public, if I don’t take them in public. But that doesn’t mean our attempts will always be successful.