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“No!”
I glance around. A few women have peeked over at us from behind their own carts, and I can feel my frustration simmering.
“Krew, I’m serious. Pick it up, and let’s keep going.”
“No! I don’t want to shop with you.” His voice is growing, and so is my embarrassment.
“Fine, then.” I start pushing the cart forward again. “You can stay here while I shop. I hope one of these nice ladies watching us will give you a ride home.”
Every spectator snaps their eyes back to their own shopping.
I slowly walk to the milk and grab two jugs off of the chilled shelf. I’m praying this parenting game I’m playing works out for me. I’m already going through other options in my head of what to do in case it doesn’t. What would Kristen do? I wish I knew. I can take away screen time or friends if the tantrum persists, but I’m never good at following through with those consequences, and we both know it.
I look back at him before moving on. “I need some help. Are you sure you don’t want to keep shopping with me?”
He shakes his head. “I want to shop with Mom.”
Then he turns on his heels and runs down the aisle to the front of the store. All the other women are looking at me again with so much curiosity I want to shout out at them, “Haven’t you ever seen a tantrum before?”
Instead, I leave my half-full cart, pick up the crumpled grocery list off of the ground, and chase after Krew. He’s almost out the front doors of the store when I grab him and pull him into my arms. His little body wiggles.
“Let go of me! I want Mom!”
I hate this tantrum.
It happens every now and again, and I honestly don’t know what to do when it does. Krew was barely six when Kristen died. He doesn’t have a ton of memories of her, but he does remember a feeling of being loved. Whenever he brings her up, I can’t help but wonder if I’m giving him enough love, or if somewhere deep down, he knows that me alone isn’t enough.
I walk out the door with him still yelling and squirming in my arms. I see a bench outside the building and sit down, moving his body so that I can hug him close.
“I wish Mom were here too, bud. I wish she could shop with you and see how good you’re reading. She’d be so proud of you.”
His little fists bang against my shoulders. “Let me go. I don’t want you.”
“I know,” I say, rubbing his back. “But you’re stuck with me. We’re a team, and we both miss Mom.”
I don’t know what else to do, so I sit on that bench outside the grocery store, holding Krew in my arms until he finally gives up fighting and falls asleep.
It’s times like these that I wish I had someone else in my life, someone who could help me navigate the hard times.
Parenting is a hard job to do on your own.
CHAPTER9
MEG
Principal Carter’s dark hair is arranged perfectly into a low bun. Mauve lipstick colors her lips, matching her painted fingernails. She’s the picture of class with her black pants, black blazer, and a small pendant necklace. She’s sitting with me and Krew Dixon, making small talk. We’ve exhausted all the regular things to talk about. We’ve discussed Krew’s school class, if he likes his seat assignment, the new friends he’s made, what his favorite subject is, and whether or not he likes having school lunch or home lunch. I glance at the clock again. Mr. Dixon is eight minutes late to his assigned spot at Meet the Teacher.
My eyes shift to Principal Carter. “Did Mr. Dixon say how late he was going to be?”
Diane flips her phone over and reads his text again. “No, it just says he’s going to be a little late. Thursdays are usually his busiest day.” There’s a look of annoyance on her face. Maybe I’m just imagining it because she’s my boss, or maybe she’s just as scary a mother-in-law as she is a principal.
I smile at Krew. “We can start without your dad.”
Krew’s light-blue eyes grow, and a huge smile spreads across his face. Not the kind of reaction kids normally give when they’re being stood up by a parent.
“Dad!” he yells, and he runs to the door behind me.
“Finally,” Diane mutters under her breath.
