I can’t be the only one who has noticed and experienced these things while going to the supermarket.
Rules of the cart
Upon entering the supermarket, we grab a cart and then must decide who sits up front and who sits in the back. You know the little flap that covers the front seat of the cart? Well, if you actually look at it, it has several pictures on it displaying what you are NOT supposed to do and how kids are NOT supposed to ride in the cart. We ignore all of these rules. We have hung on to the sides of the cart. We sit on things in the cart. We stand in the cart. We unbuckle ourselves and stand up in the front seat of the cart. We even stand and hold our arms out like we are on the front of the Titanic while riding in the cart. The only thing missing was Celine Dion’s sweet voice crooning over the loud speaker.
Yes, I know that this is dangerous, but I’m not at the store because it’s happy-fun time. I’m there with two kids by myself because we actually need things. If I did a pantry raid to see what items I can throw together for a meal, I would come up with a can of green beans and some stale cake icing. So, we must power through the supermarket and if that means we break every cart-riding rule, then so be it.
Tampons and acquaintances
Why is it that every time I need to go to the store by myself with both of my kids, it perfectly lines up with the few times a year when I have simultaneously run out of every personal hygiene and household product? Not only does this add extra time onto our trip to the supermarket, it also causes me to field a barrage of questions from my children. It’s the perfect storm. I have one kid in the front seat hugging a package of pads and another kid in the back of the cart shaking a box of Tampax Sport.
“Mom, what is this? Is this lady stuff? How do you use these? Can I use them? Can you eat them?”
Now that I have stocked up on my ‘lady stuff’ I round the corner of the aisle to run into everyone I have ever known. Or at least a couple of guys from church. How about we save the small talk for Sunday morning and not while my kid is waving my tampons in your face?
It just so happens that the only time I could fit in a trip to the grocery store was the day right before the trucks arrive to replenish the shelves. Seriously, I go down through my list and half of the items are nowhere to be found. Because of this, I get what I can now, but will have to find a way to make another trip back to the supermarket in a few days. What’s for dinner? I guess we are still having green beans and icing.
Consider it destroyed
I try to stay focused and motor through the store as fast as I can in the hopes that this experience will be less painful for everyone. In doing so, the kids have opened a box of cereal and a box of fruit snacks. Now I know why they have been so quiet. On two separate trips, each one of my kids has gnawed through a package of bologna. True story.
I’m going to pay for these items anyway, but I still have a discussion with my kids about the fact that we haven’t paid for then yet so we can’t open or destroy them. I don’t think that a can has made it from the store to our home without being dented when my kids were along for the supermarket experience.
It’s no secret that kids are observant and riding in a cart through the store gives them the perfect opportunity to people-watch. Along with the gift of observation, my kids cannot whisper to save their lives and they also have little to no filter before speaking. So this ends up happening: “Mom, her boobs – I mean chest – was coming out of her shirt!” Little one overhears boobs and just repeats “boobies” loudly for several aisles.
“Mom, did you see that guy’s butt crack!? He leaned over and I saw his butt crack!” Annnd the little one is now saying butt crack instead of boobies.
I swear this is in no way indicative of the way I parent. But I will give the private part speech again just in case.
How did this get here
I love when I get home and start to unpack the groceries only to find several random items that I have no recollection of purchasing. I forgot cheese and half of the stuff I need to pack my lunches for the week, but I now have the latest issue of Soap Opera Digest, some Ferrero Rocher chocolate, a vile of 5-hour energy, and that matchbox car one of them just had to have. Did I pay for this stuff? The receipt confirms that I did but all of this junk sneaked passed me. Granted, the chocolate is a nice treat, but clearly my little ninjas were hard at work while I was unloading the cart in the checkout line. Why are the checkout lines so small and compact? I bet they were designed by someone who doesn’t have kids.
I can’t wait to do this all again in a few days.