Dreaded Grocery Store
Ugh, grocery shopping.
Everyone and I mean EVERYONE has dreaded this at one time or another.
Maybe it was that day you were rushing home from work. You’re single, and have no worries besides bills and getting your hair done. Except your hair gets done tomorrow and normally you have great self-esteem, but that hot guy in the elevator gave you a look. A look that wasn’t “Heeyy” but, “hey.” Now you’re feeling blah and you have to stop for food and you know there’s people in there. Ugh.
Maybe it was that time you forgot your coupons, but turning back was out of the question. There goes my savings I could have used towards my nails/shoes/Starbucks/hair.
Ugh.
Maybe it was that time you realized you had to be an adult and actually buy food. And cook it. And clean up after. Ugh.
Personally, I have a love/hate relationship with the grocery store.
I love it when I meal plan, make a list, have zero kids in tow, no time schedule, and my earbuds. I take my sweet time and walk every aisle, stopping to read labels of things not on my list. I spend an extra long time in the wine section, pretending I know just how to find the perfect red to pair with my perfectly planned week of meals. No one talks to me. I smile at everyone passing by, especially the moms. I may receive a few looks of jealousy, but I just tune into my music and stroll along. Zen.
But, not today.
Nope. I only had 2 things going for me walking into that place; I remembered my bags and my list. A rare event for me.
Today was the day before Thanksgiving. Today was the first day of school vacation. Today I was home with all 5 littles.
I had no choice but to take them all on this forbidden grocery store day.
Okay, that’s not entirely true. I could have taken a picture of my list and sent it to Hubz, with a simple, “thank you!” and a heart emoji, of course. But, I really like him and he really likes me so I try to save those texts for an emergency.
Everyone was getting along (true story!!) and was ready to go. Except they weren’t ready to go. They were hungry. Of course they’re hungry. Had they eaten when I said, “Hey, let’s eat lunch before we go.” instead of, “No, we’re not hungry” we would have gotten somewhere. But, if you have children then you know that unless you force feed them, they are never hungry until you say, “Okay, guys! Potty, shoes, and coats. Time to go!”
Fine. Eat. Whatever. 5 kids, 5 meals.
The older Boys basically got into a cracker fight with crumbs flying everywhere. They won the chore of vacuuming. (*note: no vacuum has been turned on as of this writing)
The 9yr old girl decided on Ramon noodles. This announcement caused the 4yr old to declare his want of “rotten noodles”, which then lead to 4 older siblings teasing him and him feeling empowered with knowing what he wants for once, hence screaming, “I want rotten noodles” above his siblings teasing.
Face Palm.
The oldest, a preteen girl, comes to the rescue of the screaming 4yr old by offering peanut butter and jelly. Perfect. He accepts and she’s actually helping. That is until 4yr old states “only peanut butter” and oldest daughter decides playing mom is her role. Enter the argument of peanut butter vs peanut butter and jelly.
Double Face Palm.
“Give him JUST PEANUT BUTTER!”
30 Minutes later, we are getting in the car. “We” meaning everyone except for the 4yr old. He was in the car and was then told by someone to go wash his face. He’s upstairs for 20 mins.
We should be in the checkout line by now, but instead we are just leaving the driveway…and yes I have everyone.
Ugh, grocery shopping.
We pull in to park and the 4yr old asks why we are here “because you said we were going grocery shopping and this isn’t the grocery store, mommy.”
Umm… okay…
“Honey, this IS the grocery store.”
“Nooo. It is not.”
“This is why you’re still 4 and mommy is an adult.”
*silence*
Before getting out, I bribe the kids.
“Okay, let’s play happy family. If you’re a good listener, we will get treats. A surprise that you won’t know unless you earn it. Don’t ask what it is, just be good. Ok?”
Mommy needs a treat. Mommy hates the grocery store.
