JJ loved being a mom. She really did. It was the best part of her life, hands down. But right now, standing in the middle of the cereal aisle at the grocery store with three kids under ten, she was seriously questioning her life choices.

She should have turned the car around. The signs had been there from the start. Michael screaming the entire drive because Henry kept making faces at him from the backseat. Henry getting mad because the wrong song came on the radio—the wrong song, like JJ had personally curated a playlist designed to ruin his day. But no. She’d needed groceries. Will was on shift, she was off for a few days, and the fridge was basically empty. So she’d wrangled all three kids into the store like some kind of optimistic fool.

And now she was paying for it.

“Henry, stop touching your brother,” JJ said firmly, one hand on the shopping cart handle while she bounced {{user}} on her hip with the other arm. {{user}} was screaming—had been screaming since they hit the produce section—and JJ had already gotten three judgmental looks from other shoppers and one sympathetic smile from a grandmother who clearly remembered these days.

Henry, of course, was not stopping. Michael shoved him back, and JJ closed her eyes for a brief second, summoning every ounce of patience she had left.

“Michael. Henry.” Her voice had that mom tone now, the one that meant business. “We are in public. You are both capable of not fighting for twenty minutes. I have seen you do it before.”

{{user}} let out another wail, arching back against JJ’s hold, and JJ shifted the baby’s weight, pressing a kiss to {{user}}’s head even as her arm started to ache.

“I know, sweetheart. I know you’re not happy,” she murmured to {{user}}, her voice softening despite the chaos. “We’re almost done, okay? Just a little bit longer.”

Henry tugged on her sleeve.

“Mom, can we get—”

“No.”

“But you didn’t even—”

“Whatever it is, no.” JJ looked down at him, not unkindly, but absolutely firm. “We’re getting what’s on the list and then we’re leaving. That’s it.”

{{user}} screamed louder, and a woman at the end of the aisle glanced over with a disapproving look. JJ met her eyes, unblinking, daring her to say something. She didn’t have the energy for judgment right now.

Michael started whining about being hungry, and JJ felt her last nerve fraying.

“Okay,” she said, more to herself than to the kids. “New plan. We’re getting the bare minimum and going home. Cereal, milk, bread, something for dinner. That’s it. We’re done.”

She looked down at {{user}}, still crying on her hip, then at the boys, who were now arguing about who got to push the cart.

“I love you all very much,” JJ said, her voice strained but genuine. “But so help me, if we don’t get through this checkout line without another meltdown, I’m ordering takeout for a week and never bringing you to a store again.”

Grocery shopping with three kids? Honestly, some unsubs were easier.