Running errands with two small children requires a degree of insanity. Fortunately, I have reached this level and somewhat beyond, so I don’t let have two kids under two slow me down, even when it should.

Yesterday, for example, I got the kids up from their morning nap. It was a half hour earlier than normal – only 11:30 – so I nursed Wick and thought, Hey, I can run one quick errand before I feed them lunch. This was my first mistake.

There’s really no such thing as “one quick errand” when a baby or two is involved. Know how you used to grab your keys and purse and hop in the car? Yeah, I remember that too. Now it takes me three trips, minimum, to get babies, baby gear, stuff needed for errands, and self into the car. And usually I forget something important, like Marzipan’s sippie cup, so I run back in. This frustrated me greatly for the first few months of Marzipan’s life. When Wick was born and I discovered the fun of traveling with two, I decided that frustration over baby delays would mean I was eternally frustrated, so I dropped it. Most of the time.

I got to the store – my one quick errand – and hit the first problem. The shopping cart. (I call them buggies, because I’m from Mississippi, and that’s what we call them down there. I just translated it “shopping cart” because I’m culturally sensitive that way.) Wick doesn’t sit up so well on his own yet, but he’s outgrown his removable car seat that clicks on to the cart. Marzipan can just walk with me, but it makes shopping a little too exciting for me. I don’t have that many eyes and arms. No problem, I thought, I’ll just carry Wick in the Baby Bjorn and Marzipan can ride in the buggy. (Oops, I slipped there and said Buggy. I hope you knew what I was talking about.)

I opened up the back of the van. Two umbrella strollers, check. The hiking backpack Joe carries Marzipan in, check. Jumper cables, check. Bottles of oil, assortment of tools, can of WD-40, skate board, helmet, shoes, check. Baby Bjorn, no check.

So I went with the folded up blanket in cart and Wick got to view the shopping world through the steel mesh sides. He did not like this view. I hurried. He still did not like it. Marzipan was getting hungry. Everything I added to the cart added to her hunger. “Oof, Mama, oof,” she said. (She’s a little dyslexic on her consonant placement.) By the time we checked out and got to the car, the hunger was apparently quite intense. “Ooof, Mama! Oof! OOOOOOoooooooof!” Don’t even ask about how I loaded two kids and ten bags into a van stuffed full of garage sale leftovers waiting to be dropped at the charity thrift store. It wasn’t pretty.

We had made it to the car, at least. Now I just had to keep them happy while I drove us to the nearest Oof location. Except. Oh no. I did not remember a spoon for Wick. I’d just bought baby food, but no spoon. No problem, I think, I’ll just ask for one at Taco Bell.

Ten minutes later I glance in the Taco Bell bag as I pull away from the drive through and see the plastic-encased spoon for Marzipan’s Cheesy Fiesta Potatoes (yum!). Good. That will work for Wick. We pull around the side and park in the shade. We are going to eat outside, picnic style. Why? Because that problem I have with the shopping cart replicates with the high chair. Also, if you sit outside, you can spill drinks and scatter crumbs recklessly and no one minds. The birds even applaud. It’s okay to be loud outside, especially when you’re in the shady grass by the fast food parking lot approximately ten yards from the highway. Traffic noise drowns you out.

I spread out the blanket, plop Wick in the stroller, and hand Marzipan her cheese roll-up and Cheesy Fiesta Potatoes (yum!). The potatoes are coated in sticky cheese with a glob of sour cream, just for good measure. Next time I will request Potatoes without all the Cheesy Fiesta, thank you.

I’m all for efficiency, combining tools, taking less space. Except for eating utensils. The spork is evil. The spork is evil. The spork is evil. You cannot feed pureed pears to a six-month-old with a spork. You can kind of splosh them in his general direction, and he can kind of slurp them from the side of the spork. That’s it. I ended up breaking off the tines to produce a spoon-like thing. Wick was nearly hyperventilating in his eagerness for those pears during this whole process. I also forgot a bib, by the way. That tucked-in burping cloth wasn’t up to its new calling.

But food is food is food, however you get it into your mouth. Marzipan wandered around smelling the pampas grass (which she called “Flaaaow! Flaaaow!”) after she ate her food. Wick gurgled pear residue and laughed at Marzipan. And I ate slightly chilled tacos.

The next errand went a lot better. Wick had to ride on the blanket in the cart again, but with food in his tummy he didn’t mind. He started falling asleep on the way home, so I skipped the last errand – dropping off all that garage sale stuff – and just went home. I was worn out, too, and Marzipan was getting a little bleary. I’ll just drop that stuff off next time I run out. I’m sure it won’t take long…