By GAYATRI UNSWORTH (http://thehappymummy.blogspot.com/)

Have you ever found yourself standing in the middle of a supermarket aisle with a trolley full of groceries about to burst into tears and collapse into a heap? If you have, chances are there’s a toddler belonging to you lurking nearby, busy in her umpteenth attempt to grab a stack of tins off the shelf.

Other parents passing by give you emphatic looks, having been there and done that. The non-parents observing this catastrophe-in-the-making meanwhile exude an air of smugness. You can almost hear them saying “that will never be me” or “when I have a child, I am going to raise her to be so well behaved that she will follow all of my instructions and nod at me cooperatively when I ask her to do something”.

In case you’re wondering, I know this because prior to acquiring my very own offspring, I had thought the same and probably even possessed the same self-righteous smirk on my face.

Fast forward a few years later, all such notions have been wiped off permanently and unceremoniously by my 15-month-old darling daughter.

Going out with a toddler is challenging, to say the least. Even before you’ve actually entered the venue, you’re worn out from unbuckling the child out of the car seat, putting her shoes on (which sometimes can be a battle especially when she takes it upon herself to help), setting up the stroller, placing her in the stroller (which again can be a tumultuous affair should she decide that sitting isn’t quite as much fun as squirming and wiggling ferociously), locking up the car, walking off only to realise you’ve forgotten to take the baby bag with you, walking back to the car, getting the baby bag, putting your child’s shoes back on because she’s taken them off for a quick taste, locking the car, walking off only to have second thoughts about whether you’ve really locked the car (because you’ve actually started losing your mind, you see), walking back to the car only to confirm that yes indeed it is locked, before looking down only to find that your child has somehow escaped the stroller restraints, so you fight the stroller battle again, and then and only then, proceed to the venue with a screaming toddler in tow.

Of course, by this point, you’re wondering why you thought going out was a good idea after all. It would have been so much easier to simply stay at home and go mad. Nevertheless, being the trooper that you are, you persevere and put on a brave face for your companions who usually have little or no idea of the chaos you’ve just endured. You take a deep breath and get ready for Act 2, which kicks off grandly as the baby chair makes an appearance.

More often than not my toddler will get into the high chair quite happily. But there has been the odd occasion where she remembers how fond she sometimes is of wriggling about in the stroller and decides that a similar themed encore is in order.

Just as I finally succeed in convincing her that sitting is a much better idea than standing in a high-chair, a waiter/waitress will inevitably appear and start setting the table. I don’t know what it is with restaurant staff, but no matter where in the world I’ve been out to eat, they have a highly annoying tendency to place forks, knives and glassware in close reach to little hands.

And so, of course, within minutes of the table being laid, there’s my little darling waving the knife about like it’s a fairy wand and using the fork to comb through her hair. I usually counter this by excitedly pointing at an imaginary animal somewhere in the distance and whilst she is distracted, deftly pull the offending items out of her hands. By the time she’s realised that there isn’t actually a shiny white unicorn with a glittering golden horn grazing all the way over there, I’ve conjured up a variety of baby-friendly entertainment; books, an etch-a-sketch and dolls.

If she’s tired, hungry or under-the-weather, I will spend the next 10 minutes picking up the aforementioned entertainment items off the floor and handing them to my daughter who will then proceed to send them sailing down to the floor again. She must think it’s a good game.

I make the best of the situation and do abdomen crunches every time I lean over to pick something up. It makes me feel better about not going to the gym. Toddlers are the best fitness trainers - ask any mum.

By the time the food arrives, you’ve either polished off a bottle of wine or are wishing you had. Just as you lift the fork to your mouth, you see your toddler turning a slight shade of red out of the corner of your eye. Before you’ve even begun to chew, she starts to grunt and make sounds which are unmistakeably descriptive.

You try and ignore the situation for a little while longer but what your head can disregard your nose cannot and so eventually you abandon all plans of eating and stand up to deal with the natural disaster that has occurred for the zillionth time that day in your toddler’s diaper.

Again toddlers are the best fitness trainers. They give you a good work out and very little time to have a decent meal.

To her credit, my little one is generally a well-behaved child with a happy disposition and has no problems following instructions and cooperating. We take her everywhere, even travelling with her extensively, and except for that one time where she crawled off with the airline safety demonstration apparatus, she’s pretty easy-going and compliant.

But God forbid, should she be having an off day, I find my cherubic toddler kidnapped, only to be replaced by a minx whose mission appears to be to destroy and annihilate pretty much everything around her, including my sanity. And on days such as those, I thank the powers that be for the invention of chocolate and alcohol.

Confectionary, despite popular belief, is not strategically placed at the check-out to tempt children; they are there for mothers who want to celebrate having survived yet another supermarket shopping expedition with her mind and voice still intact.

So, the next time you see a harried, frazzled parent wrestling a toddler with the faintest glint of mischief in her eyes, cast your judgments aside and either help or get out of the way!

Gayatri Unsworth is a 29-year-old mother, academic and writer who is learning more and more about herself, and the world at-large from her 1-year-old toddler. She can be contacted at gayatri.unsworth@gmail.com.