How we roll

When boredom, lunacy and hunger combine forces, I often find myself behind the wheel of the van with three kids ages three-and-under headed to the grocery store. It happens about once a week, and so far I haven't found any way to end the vicious cycle. So we make the best of it.

After balancing the baby carrier and the baby atop the back of the cart and wrangling the big kids into a car buggy with strict instructions to keep all appendages inside the car, we begin our journey. In the produce department we procure some mini apples to snack on. This serves to keep Abby and Caleb occupied for the duration of the trip, during which time they eat the peel, the core, the seeds and the stem, despite repeated warnings to the contrary.

We linger in the dairy section and the kids crane their necks to watch the miniature train go around and around on its track suspended from the ceiling above the cheese. I answer the same question every time, and understandably so, as it makes little sense to the kids why we should need five gallons of milk for a family of only four milk drinkers. On the Italian foods aisle, I let Abby pick a special pasta. Typically she'll choose Farfalle (because it's shaped like little bows), but lately we've ventured into Foglie di ulivo (she liked it because it was green and shaped like leaves) and occasionally Rotini (because it's curly, like her hair).

I time my grocery excursions to coincide with Jacob's morning nap, so he can be counted on to stay asleep, or at least quiet, for most of the trip. When he does wake up, he's usually so amused by the lights and sounds that he is content to smile and coo and crumple my list in his tiny fists as we meander through the store.

And when we're done, I reward myself with a nice hot mocha from the cafe in the front of the store. Because after an hour of driving this boat of a buggy up and down every aisle with 80 pounds of offspring and a week's worth of groceries inside, I've earned it.