Even after I had kids, I must admit to casting a judgmental eye at moms of tantruming toddlers. Why can’t they control their kids?, I’d reproach them in silence.

I had always prided myself on not having one of those kids who prostrates himself on the filthy grocery store aisle when denied that super-size bag of Cheez Doodles.

I was certain it was a reflection of my loving but firm parenting style, refined through Project Enlightenment classes and more than five years of mothering.

Not my kid, I’d revel smugly, giving myself a virtual pat on the back while heaving a sigh of relief that it was them and not me being publicly humiliated.

Until last Monday.

That same day, at Moe’s, a mom complimented me on my brood of three, the two older ones patiently awaiting their burritos and giggling in a booth as I waited in line with the baby on my hip. “My kids never would have done that,” she said.

I beamed my gratitude.

Little did I know what was in store for me.

Now, it was payback time.

Looking back, I still maintain it was a simple outing, to pick up some milk and another item or two after a whirlwind weekend at the beach. The kids were fed so I’d abided by Rule #1: Never take hungry kids on an errand. Furthermore, it was Whole Foods, where the “no grazing” admonitions in the bulk aisle are interpreted by my clan to mean “stick your grimy hands into the yogurt-covered pretzel bin and grab as many as you can before mom says STOP.” Cheese samples and cut-up fruit and, on lucky days, a good-for-you facsimile of a Ritz cracker with creamy trout spread are ours for the taking. Who doesn’t love free food?

I plopped two gallons of milk in the cart. Next to the milk, the kids spotted the kefir, a tangy yogurt drink that reminds them of a smoothie. I selected blueberry flavor – my favorite, and, after all, I was buying – and asked them whether they wanted strawberry or raspberry. Big mistake.

“Raspberry!” shouted the brother.

“Strawberry!” countered the sister.

The baby, facing them in the cart, looked from one sibling to the other. Too young to voice her opinion, what does she care? She’ll eat anything.

We’re encouraged to give our kids choices, to let them make decisions appropriate for their age level. Do you want to wear the red shirt or the blue shirt today? Do you want strawberry or raspberry?

But what happens when there’s no consensus?

It’s just like the real world – you want one thing; your spouse wants another. You have to compromise.

Get used to it, right?

Try telling that to a 3-year-old.

Before I even had a chance to broker a deal, Shira freaked out. “I want strawberry! Get me strawberry! If you don’t get me strawberry, I’ll punch you in the eye!”

Whoa.

I tried ignoring her. Her shrieks only escalated.

I picked her up and tried to hug her. She pinched me.

I announced there would be no strawberry kefir in her immediate future. Her cries of “MEAN MAMA!” reverberated through the store.

Unbelievably, I stayed in a zen-like state throughout. Maybe it was because everyone was looking to see what I’d do. Um…nothing?

I was calm, I was calm, and then my peripheral vision caught sight of the baby standing up in the cart, having somehow wiggled free of the seatbelt.

I heard another child ask her mom why Shira -- she had her nametag on from camp; we were outed – was screaming.

Quickly, that nearby mom reached out a hand to stabilize the baby. She wasn’t judging me – or at least I couldn’t tell if she was, and that’s all that really mattered at the moment.
I flashed her my best grateful smile.

With Shira still out of control, I declared the shopping trip over. We loudly made our way through check-out and out into the parking lot.

I manhandled my flailing daughter into her car seat, then caught sight of the mom from inside.

“Have a great afternoon,” she chirped.

And we did.

Bonnie appears every Monday on TriangleMom2Mom.