Grocery Store Adventures

First off let me say that if you are not a parent, you will most likely not understand the nature of my fustrations with the grocery store. Now, being that I am a mother of 2 children both under the age of 4, this place is like a nervous breakdown waiting to happen.

First off, let's begin in the parking lot. I understand the idea of pushing the carts so they lock together so you can fit more into the "corrals". Now, what they are not,is easy to seperate. Case in point. I have suceeded in retrieving both my children safely from the car and have even been sucessful in locking it. I now have the 1 year under my arm as if he is a 29 pound child shaped football. My three year old is holding my hand that is also holding the cell phone and 60 pound bag that I call a purse. I am single minded in that I need to make it to the cart before my arms are ripped from their sockets. I am already beginning to sweat. I make it across the parking lot that is inhabited by the SLOWEST drivers on earth. I yank on the closest cart. It has bubble gum all over it. It looks as if a chewed bubble gum grenade has exploded in its near vicinity. Okay, just pull the other one I tell myself ignoring the screaming coming from the sack of potatoes I call my son. I yank harder and harder. What I get is all 17 carts coming out of the corrall like a freaking train. Ack! I try to push them back in so I can pry one away. No use. They are a 40 foot train off the track. So, now ...I have my 3 year old holding onto my back pocket as I pull 17 carts up to the store doors. It's all out of the kindness of my heart I tell the 110 year old "cart boy".

I smile through the sweat and tears, and move into the battle zone. Somehwhere I smell a waft of sour milk. One of my fellow Moms before me must have fallen I think. No time to stop, must move on. I now have my single cart and begin to move through the aisles. Everything is plastered with Sponge Bob Square Pants, Dora (I hate that evil cartoon...ACK), and Scooby Doo. Of course, my children want it all. The 6 pound box of cocoa puffs that have clever Dora marshmallows. Yea, and ten years from now you might come down off that sugar high....if I am lucky. I end up giving in and buying Chicken Little decorated Kleenex tissues. It's not weak I chant to myself.

Now, my oldest has been sick lately so I need cold medicine. I discover that 3-5 year olds have been left mostly out of the market here. It's all infant to 2 and ages 6-12. So, if you are looking to corner the market on something .... there ya go. So don't say I haven't given you anything. That's money in the bank right there.

I finally finish everything and it is down to check out. This is like the final temptation of Christ for my kids. I mean seriously. I am pushing them down a narrow aisle that is lined with candy on both sides. My perspiring increases. This is it...I can do this. They only grab at a few things before I shoot them through there like a greased bullet. Ha - I think.

WRONG!

Now you slide your check card through on your own with these nifty little machines on tidy little poles. My three year old thinks this looks like mighty fun. He is tapping merrily away on the thing. Let me just tell you that I now know that I cannot pull 7,489.23 out of my checking account. I needed to know this and now I am glad Robby, the bag boy knows this too.

*Vintage Post