I've had the shopping trip from Hell,
The kind that makes you scream and yell,
All sorts of things one shouldn't say,
In Sainsbury's on a Saturday.
I'd made a couple of mistakes.
I didn't bribe the kids with cakes.
And what is more, a silly sin,
I failed to bring the pushchair in.
My daughter, therefore, free to roam,
Was treating Sainsbury's just like home.
Her brother, my 'compliant' child,
Was, in this instance, just as wild.
He started pulling down some clothes.
"Oh Mummy, you'd look good in those!"
And soon he'd made a massive pile,
Along the centre of the aisle.
His sister, not to be outdone,
Was, in the meantime, on the run.
I found her on her hands and knees,
Beside the prawns and frozen peas.
Whilst he, to entertain himself,
Was spinning a revolving shelf,
So greeting cards flew everywhere,
And several people stopped to stare.
Then both of them just ran away!
Past Weetabix and Special K,
I chased them round the crowded shop,
Whilst yelling "Wait!" and "TIME TO STOP!"
It's fair to say, I'd lost control,
Which isn't pleasant, on the whole.
So there, beside the dry shampoo,
I gave myself a talking to.
"Although these terrors try their best,
To keep me under house arrest,
I really mustn't let them win.
I HAVE TO GET THE SHOPPING IN!"
With stubborn heart and iron will,
I made a beeline for the till,
And paid as quickly as I could,
Whilst begging: "Children, please be good!"
I took my daughter by the hand,
Which, true to form, she couldn't stand,
And out the door with them and me
Went hopes of leaving quietly.
I'd tried so hard at acting calm,
But when we left, a loud alarm
Was triggered by a plastic tag,
Attached to something in my bag.
I must admit, I could've cried,
When, forced to venture back inside,
The horror show was made complete
When someone asked for my receipt.
"I've no chance of remembering
Where I have put the blasted thing!
My hands are full, I'm in a state,
Why did I ever procreate?"
And in that moment I'd become
That stressed and frazzled sort of mum.
The kind to make me roll my eyes,
The sort I'd tut and criticise.
From now on, if I ever meet
A failing mummy in the street,
I'll know she's just fought World War Three.
What's more, I'll know, she's just like me.