This is what 99% of my Kroger trips looked like. Ugly. We've likely all been there or will be one day. It's inevitable. It's human.
But is it an ok norm?
Nope. Not for me, at least.
Every time I'd pull up to the grocery store, or any public place for that matter...sometimes even church, I'd stop and engage my invisible supermom suit. You know, when you take a quick breath, you tell yourself "I can do this. In and out, get what I need, and it all must happen in my
Ok, maybe no roaring was involved, but still. I thought I was a force to be reckoned with. I would even enjoy it when people would look at me like I was crazy or call me brave for trying to do it all with 3 preschoolers in tow.
We all know what this is a setup for, right? A big, fat, humiliating, debilitating fall. Or, in my case, a "snap". I've already given the rundown of my ankle injury, so I'll spare details. But, essentially, I had to change a lot. Expectations, routines, abilities...all either completely nixed or had to change to the point of being nearly unrecognizable. I had to make lists for and depend on others. Gasp.
Know what else disappeared? My big ol' bubble. The one that held the idea of "supermom". It popped, and I realized just how imaginary she was. I feel like I'm breaking the news to a kid for the first time about Santa, the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy, but here goes...
Ladies, supermom isn't real.
In fact, she just flat out sucks.
She isn't genuine and no one feels like they can "touch" her. Like Santa, she's this idea that stresses many of us to no end. We spend way too much time, effort, and money to maintain it. And it's all for what? For me, it was all for absolutely nothing. So I've been trying out something "new"; something I've allowed in very few relationships in my life.
Vulnerability.
It's a scary, scary word. I know. But, this is coming from the girl who is a master task juggler and creator and wearer of masks, and it's seriously worth a shot.
Since this is relatively unfamiliar and fairly uncomfortable territory for me, I thought I'd start out in a small, controlled environment; a place I frequent often, even in my current gimpy state, and know like the back of my hand.
Kroger.
After scooting around on my roll-a-bout for a while in the store, I saw all the sympathetic eyes and heard all the "you poor thing"'s. While I understood they meant well, I realized they were likely taking interest in me mostly because I looked totally miserable. I've never been much of a smiler. My two top front teeth have spots left from braces, and my already prominent chin looks even stronger when I smile. To me, it's just not pretty. Along with "sit up straight", "stop frowning" were often words I heard growing up. I've argued up an down that I'm not frowning....I just look that way when I'm not smiling. However, the fact still remained. I looked less approachable when I wasn't smiling. Even though lots of people don't smile and get away with it, I finally had to suck it up and realize my nearly 6 foot tall frame and grey eyes don't exactly say "Come on over and talk to me...I'm a super nice approachable girl who would love to swap recipes and talk a spell."
Smiling makes a BIG difference, y'all.
By simply smiling in Kroger, I've opened myself up to numerous conversations and encounters while out and about. For example...
"Guuuhrul. Where'd you get dem pants? Dem things is hot as heeeyell. I needs dem in errr color"...After I let her know I made them, I was then invited to back my car up into her driveway and sell my goods from her house bc all the "ghetto guhz on da other side of the innastate gone lose dey heads ovah this *^%#."
She then forearm bumped me and let her friend who just walked up know that I was her "girl."
And...
An elderly couple approached me in the produce section to help them pick out mangos for a gathering at their home where one of the attendees they were unfamiliar with reportedly loved the fruit. They'd never eaten one before, so they were clueless. I had three kids with me, was in a hard cast on a scooter, and was surrounded by tons of other seemingly knowledgeable produce choosers. Why in the world did they think I had the time for this? Because I made eye contact with them and smiled a little. That's all it took for them to feel invited into my space. They had just walked up, and my mangos were semi-hidden under other produce in my cart. They were seeking out...hopeful for someone who could help them with what seemed to me a simple, unimportant task, but for them it was a pretty important and intimidating.
Just so y'all know, I'm not flashing be cheesy, creepy grins at everyone. I'm simple making a conscious effort to make the corners of my mouth curl up instead of droop down.
Another thing I've learned to do is speak up and accept help every now and then...big time gasp. I've never, ever been one to address someone by the name on their name tag in a store. What if they ignored my attempt at a conversation? What if they were rude and short with me? What if they ended up wanting to talk my ears off while my hungry toddler is trying to pants me in the parking lot? After seeing my husband, a techie introvert who would rather spend his time at home chillin' rather than out with the guys, take interest in and speak to cashiers and service staff without spontaneously combusting, I figured I could maybe try to open myself up, as well.
I'm not even going to pretend like the first time I initiated a conversation with the 6'1 female cashier whose feathers I'd never want to ruffle for fear she'd wring my neck was a glorious experience where the words came out of my mouth with confidence and clarity. I feared I would mispronounce her name, and that she would shank me. Right there at the register. As it turns out, I did mispronounce her name, but obviously she was shiv free that day because I'm here to tell the tale. I simply asked her how she was doing and how much longer her shift was. She talked....and talked. Luckily, there was no one behind me. Although, I'm not sure it would have mattered with her. She talked to my kids; asked their names, ages, and such. We talked about reusable bags vs plastic. She asked how long we'd been living in Jackson and why in the world we'd chosen to move here. If I'm ever inn her line, she always pulls a young bag boy over to walk out with me, even at rush hour.
I don't know if you've picked up on this or not, but I spend a lot of time in Kroger. I think roughly 1/3 of my Facebook statuses involve the store in some way. Grocery shopping is a necessity, and I was definitely treating it as a chore. But since I've started opening my mouth, taking interest, accepting help, and enjoying this experience...this gift of being surrounded by really cool, diverse people while being blessed to fill my cart with healthy foods for my family which has yet to miss a meal, I've looked forward to my weekly trips. I love talking to Lt. Linda, a stubborn older lady who refused to let me push my cart out of the store on my scooter while all the "young punk kids just stood around lookin' a fool." I haven't forgotten the manager who moved me to a regular register to check me out at 10:30 one night when I had a full buggy, a throbbing, super painful ankle, and eyes full of tears and desperation. I was barely two weeks post op, not even in a hard cast, and the regular registers shut down an hour early due to under staffing. I had no clue how I was going to manage to scan and bag all of my groceries. She stepped in. And after I called Donald by his name as he was bagging my groceries the other day, he asked my input on how I'd like them bagged, gave my kids high fives, and walked me out. He grinned ear to ear when I called his name and didn't stop till we parted ways.
People matter. They need to be called by their names and to make eye contact. And even when we don't think they've done anything above and beyond to deserve it, they need us to put ourselves out there and show true, honest appreciation. Most people want to do a good job and are eager to offer assistance when they know you'll actually accept it. Young folks need to know you're ok with hearing about their messy, broken lives, and that you want to know the sex and name of their unborn baby. Being vulnerable, caring, intentional...it's all messy, messy stuff.
Believe me, I know all this is hard to see from behind the supermom mask when on a mission to fit a 10 minute grocery errand into a 5 minute time frame.
That Kroger checkout experience at the top of this post? Hasn't repeated itself since. When my kids are with me in the checkout line, they're talking to the cashier or bagger because they've seen momma take interest in them and they know it's ok...encouraged, even. My focus isn't solely on them anymore, and that makes them curious and more apt to tune into the world around them, as well. I still make a detailed shopping list for my trip, but I'm not longer so focused on my mission that I miss the world of beautiful wrinkles, skin tones, and questions surrounding me.
I hope my upturned lips and wide-open eyes say "ask me".
I pray my slower pace down the aisles and willingness to be inconvenienced by slower or just plain rude shoppers says "you matter to me".
Most of all, I hope my words of gratitude for service instead of grumbling about a price discrepancy say "there is hope...joy".
Because, you know what? When there are folks who cuss your eyes out because their ice cream is soft from being in line 5 minutes more than they'd expected, a little hope and joy goes a loong, looooong way.
Just so y'all know, I'm not flashing be cheesy, creepy grins at everyone. I'm simple making a conscious effort to make the corners of my mouth curl up instead of droop down.
Another thing I've learned to do is speak up and accept help every now and then...big time gasp. I've never, ever been one to address someone by the name on their name tag in a store. What if they ignored my attempt at a conversation? What if they were rude and short with me? What if they ended up wanting to talk my ears off while my hungry toddler is trying to pants me in the parking lot? After seeing my husband, a techie introvert who would rather spend his time at home chillin' rather than out with the guys, take interest in and speak to cashiers and service staff without spontaneously combusting, I figured I could maybe try to open myself up, as well.
I'm not even going to pretend like the first time I initiated a conversation with the 6'1 female cashier whose feathers I'd never want to ruffle for fear she'd wring my neck was a glorious experience where the words came out of my mouth with confidence and clarity. I feared I would mispronounce her name, and that she would shank me. Right there at the register. As it turns out, I did mispronounce her name, but obviously she was shiv free that day because I'm here to tell the tale. I simply asked her how she was doing and how much longer her shift was. She talked....and talked. Luckily, there was no one behind me. Although, I'm not sure it would have mattered with her. She talked to my kids; asked their names, ages, and such. We talked about reusable bags vs plastic. She asked how long we'd been living in Jackson and why in the world we'd chosen to move here. If I'm ever inn her line, she always pulls a young bag boy over to walk out with me, even at rush hour.
I don't know if you've picked up on this or not, but I spend a lot of time in Kroger. I think roughly 1/3 of my Facebook statuses involve the store in some way. Grocery shopping is a necessity, and I was definitely treating it as a chore. But since I've started opening my mouth, taking interest, accepting help, and enjoying this experience...this gift of being surrounded by really cool, diverse people while being blessed to fill my cart with healthy foods for my family which has yet to miss a meal, I've looked forward to my weekly trips. I love talking to Lt. Linda, a stubborn older lady who refused to let me push my cart out of the store on my scooter while all the "young punk kids just stood around lookin' a fool." I haven't forgotten the manager who moved me to a regular register to check me out at 10:30 one night when I had a full buggy, a throbbing, super painful ankle, and eyes full of tears and desperation. I was barely two weeks post op, not even in a hard cast, and the regular registers shut down an hour early due to under staffing. I had no clue how I was going to manage to scan and bag all of my groceries. She stepped in. And after I called Donald by his name as he was bagging my groceries the other day, he asked my input on how I'd like them bagged, gave my kids high fives, and walked me out. He grinned ear to ear when I called his name and didn't stop till we parted ways.
People matter. They need to be called by their names and to make eye contact. And even when we don't think they've done anything above and beyond to deserve it, they need us to put ourselves out there and show true, honest appreciation. Most people want to do a good job and are eager to offer assistance when they know you'll actually accept it. Young folks need to know you're ok with hearing about their messy, broken lives, and that you want to know the sex and name of their unborn baby. Being vulnerable, caring, intentional...it's all messy, messy stuff.
Believe me, I know all this is hard to see from behind the supermom mask when on a mission to fit a 10 minute grocery errand into a 5 minute time frame.
That Kroger checkout experience at the top of this post? Hasn't repeated itself since. When my kids are with me in the checkout line, they're talking to the cashier or bagger because they've seen momma take interest in them and they know it's ok...encouraged, even. My focus isn't solely on them anymore, and that makes them curious and more apt to tune into the world around them, as well. I still make a detailed shopping list for my trip, but I'm not longer so focused on my mission that I miss the world of beautiful wrinkles, skin tones, and questions surrounding me.
I hope my upturned lips and wide-open eyes say "ask me".
I pray my slower pace down the aisles and willingness to be inconvenienced by slower or just plain rude shoppers says "you matter to me".
Most of all, I hope my words of gratitude for service instead of grumbling about a price discrepancy say "there is hope...joy".
Because, you know what? When there are folks who cuss your eyes out because their ice cream is soft from being in line 5 minutes more than they'd expected, a little hope and joy goes a loong, looooong way.
