I have not been anxious to catch up on my blog, and I seriously have not had enough time to sit and write. That often means that there are loads of things to write about, but I haven't felt a back up and I haven't felt that urge to purge my brain of all the sentiment as I often do. Instead I have just enjoyed the busyness around me and watched the days work themselves out as I follow along checking off the items on my list and screaming at my kids now and then.

This morning, however, I want to write something. I have even less time than usual since my day is shorter with an early church service tonight (our church is hosting a rodeo...like with real bull riders and clowns...tonight through Sunday morning...in the sanctuary...where people usually take communion and get married and stuff.) and house guests arriving in the afternoon, but I want to.

As I don't have a lot of time I will simply share a quick grocery shopping experience from yesterday.

I was taking my sweet time at Publix in Mt. Juliet because I had all three boys with me and hurrying is just a good way to get frustrated. I found all our list items and a few extras and headed back to the front of the store to check out. The boys were anxious to be helpful as usual. They start frantically grabbing at things before I can tell them not to, in order to get something from the cart to the belt. It's so important to them. I am watching six arms fly toward things like eggs, bread and glass containers of salad dressing and I cannot take the time to be tactful so I say sharply, "stop!" I didn't yell, I spoke. I just needed to get them to back off a second so I could direct them instead of chase them. A kind voice behind me chuckled a bit and when I turned I saw a man that I've seen at this store many times. He is a bit older, slightly heavy and he bags groceries with the utmost care. He also calms frantic mommies and entertains energetic children. With gentle authority he suggested I back away from the cart while he loaded the conveyor belt with my groceries. Two of my boys were also in the cart and within reach of several items. He fumbled with their aggressiveness too, but his approach was a bit more fresh than my own as he hadn't been in the store with them for 30-40 minutes already. Once the groceries were out of the cart he directed Owen to go get another cart to help him carry out the groceries. Owen is getting very tall and is quite able to handle pushing a cart. He isn't so great at steering it, but he sure can push.

Once loaded, our little group approached the van, me at the front of Owen's cart steering from the front in order to protect the cars of other innocent shoppers, and the grocery man pushing Ivan and Aron and the rest of the groceries in the "rocket ship" cart behind us. I took care of buckling the younger boys while Owen and the grocery man unloaded carts. As he's finishing up he looks at the boys and tells them what great helpers they are, how good they are and that they deserve a treat. I rolled my eyes from the other side of the van as I'm listening. More candy. I get so tired of people giving my kids candy. We have large jars of glistening sugary rewards in our house that I'm constantly telling my kids they can't have. If they ate every sucker, tootsie roll and pixie stick they were given they wouldn't have any teeth left. I was surprised though as I walked around to the back of the van, prepared to give a grateful smile for something I didn't want, to find him pulling out one dollar bills. He gave each of the boys a dollar and encouraged them to put it in their piggy banks.

I was touched. I was tired, and finding myself thin emotionally from all the running around and herding boys along the way. It had been a bit of a rough morning in that things just weren't clicking together the way I'd wanted. A stranger handing my kids a dollar may not seem like the answer to all that, but it sure did help me see straighter. I got in the van, turned on some music and let the boys chatter as loud as they wanted for a little while.

They really are good boys.