We'd had a big day. We spent the morning around the house, coloring and cleaning, then went to the post office to ship out some hand-me-downs, then to the store to buy Audrey's Big Girl Carseat (and a candle or two), and then to the grocery store. Small snack, no nap. This was a bad plan, and it would surely lead to a meltdown or some serious shenanigans.
I always expect a grocery shopping trip to take 30-45 minutes. I used to shop every other day on my way home from work, stop in for 10-30 minutes, get what we needed plus maybe a bottle of wine for dinner, and then get home. Big trips to stock-up on necessities maxed out at 45 minutes. Now, I walk in with a list, try to keep to the list, and then I'm sucked into the windowless, clockless vortex that is the grocery store and I emerge 1.5 to 2 hours later. I awake in the sunshine, confused like Dorothy returning from Oz, seeing each item clearly for the first time like "You were there! And you! And the ground beef too!"
When I'm with the kids, I decide to keep it under an hour, on-list, plus one small treat (recently, a cake). I'm racing against tantrums, and I'm in charge. I'm the Mom. I'm in charge. I'm the Mom. I'm in charge...
...No I'm not.
We parked in the front, right next to a cart return (that's a Grocery Store Best Practice for those keeping track at home). Right there waiting for us was a double-seated Car Cart with flame stickers and steering wheels for each kid! Good omen: normally I have to go across the parking lot to find one and make a fool of myself by checking each to make sure all four wheels work. My kids are vocal opponents of whiplash.
Inside, I decide that I should probably stop by the restroom before my quick 45-minute trip. I wiggled the cart through the door too fast for the next person to help me, and parked the kiddos with my purse next to the sinks. Audrey was confused, but Sebastian already had his pointer fingers fixed in his ear canals. He's not a fan of public bathrooms, with their loud randomly-flushing toilets.
Sebastian didn't need to go. Wait, he didn't say that, he said "We can go when I really really have to go." I could not get more clarity than that, so I was prepared for the moment in Aisle 9 when he screams "MOM! THE PEE'S GONNA COME OUT!" To prepare, I would need to head back toward that bathroom on Aisle 8 and make sure I could get both kids out of the cart and into the bathroom in time to avoid an accident and without taking any merchandise inside. Because that, plus my flyaway hair, would make me look like a criminal. Also, the kid who I was not balancing on the adult-sized toilet would probably already be eating an apple, whether she pulled it off the shelf of out of the cart.
Whatever, I'm a mom: I might be arrested before the end of the day whether someone saw Audrey take that apple in the bathroom or not. Wait... do we have apples at home? Should that be on my list?
To be honest, I did not have a list. Against all sense. I thought about a list. Actually, to show you how prepared I was, I had been thinking about my list for days. To clarify that, I had been thinking about writing a list all week. In that case, the thought really doesn't count, because thinking about writing a list does not actually result in a grocery list. I mean, I did have some mental notes about things we needed, but those were mostly snapshots of moments when something ran out while I was pouring it. For example, I definitely knew we needed cat litter: I distinctly remembered two annoyed cats glaring at me when I poured the last of it into their box. That made the list when I was washing my hands in the grocery store bathroom.
Why did I even come to the store today? I was so unprepared. We were also out of eggs, so I couldn't make my last-resort cop-out snack/lunch/dinner. We had to come to the store.
Moving on...
There was a Pregnant Person Convention in the produce section - three pregnant women holding hands with their husbands in the grocery store. Awww... they don't have kids yet. Audrey stood up for most of that adventure, trying to use me as a stepping stone on her journey to the "ernges." She likes "ernges," but she likes to peel them herself so we got clementines and naval "ernges" because that's what she saw first and she was this close to a full-on no-nap tantrum.
I could feel everyone's eyes on me and my kids as I launched into an ongoing stream of conversation. These pregnant couples were looking at my kids and thinking about what's next, then thinking that they wouldn't correct their perfect kids or appease their perfect kids' "naval ernge" tantrum, then they were thinking that their perfect kids would never stand up in a cart in the grocery store and oh my gosh that mom is talking to herself.
Whatever, pregnant people only hang out in the produce section unless they're racing through the dairy section to get some milk on their way to the checkout/bathroom, so they'll be over themselves if I can just make it to cakes and applesauce. The produce section is also where really fit-looking people group together to talk about their 5K times and the upcoming half-marathon. I know my way around that part of the store, but I've got other places to be. And yeah, I talk to myself the whole time and sing when necessary: if I don't keep a constant stream of conversation going, my kids will get bored, try to use their arms, and punch each other in the head. I live with incomplete human beings: talking to myself is the norm.
Anyway, we rounded the corner into Aisle 2, which Sebastian read off authoritatively to Audrey ("Two, Audrey! And next we have to go to 3, and 4, and 5..."). We picked out a cake, because Audrey got to pick out a "just-because" cake last week and the kids are beginning to think this is a staple. They also get green beans and hard-boiled eggs in their diet.
I'll tell ya, the Car Cart is pretty cool. The kids sit in the normal kid-seat section, but facing the cart, and they have a steering wheel in their little apparatus. It's easier to turn than other Car Carts, which have the car part on the front, like one of those foot-powered red and yellow buggies:
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| Only criminals should have to attempt a u-turn with this thing in public, to feel the appropriate amount of public scorn. |
If you really want to make some adults mad without actually taking kids on an airplane, try to use one of those suckers in a grocery store. You have to push that cart, which has about 65 pounds of fighting toddlers plus 15 pounds of plastic buggy all the way at the front. A single turn takes about 30 forward-and-back Austin Powers-style motions, so turning up an aisle is a 10-minute endeavor. Thankfully our store has the one with the kids near me, facing the groceries.
(I will take a picture one day, the internet has not caught up with my grocery store)
Great navigation comes with a price: once we get into Aisle 2, the kids are already reaching for groceries. "Who can reach the bananas?" "Hahaha, I can reach the mushrooms!" "Me too! Plus, I can put my finger through this plastic, can you?" "Hahahahaha..." "HEY! Let's pick our CAKE!"
Sebastian needed to get down (even though the cake mixes are above his head), so I pulled him out. He picked in two seconds and needed to get back in the cart, but he wanted to climb in himself (he couldn't). Then Audrey needed to get out. All this maneuvering pulled the cart into the middle of the aisle and another family needed to get by. I apologized.
"Heeeeeeyyyy, they have a car just like ours! We both match the saaaaaaaame!" Sebastian likes things that match.
Yup, a little boy and girl in a Car Cart, being quiet for the moment. Audrey picked strawberry icing for the triple chocolate cake, and suddenly both of my kids were settled behind the steering wheel, staring at their competition. Like someone pushed a button, once my kids were quiet, the other kids were getting rowdy by the flour. See? Families take turns. Aisle 2 is where you realize that the pregnant people in the produce section will get theirs... eventually.
We didn't need anything, so it was my turn to maneuver past the family. I picked up speed. I still planned to be out of here in 45 minutes, you know.
As we passed those kids, the flame stickers on our Car Cart caught the little boy's eye and he said, "Mom! I want to win!"
Sebastian yelled back, "Well, you're NOT WINNING!" and we turned the corner.
That little boy burst into tears.
We would see him again: we had only just left Aisle 2. Sebastian explained to a bored Audrey that after Aisle 3 was 4, then 5 and so on. Audrey stood up to stick her finger in the plastic on the mushrooms. The little boy was still crying. I debated whether to text Aaron about what our kid just yelled and I almost lost control of the cart. Do we need anything here...?
While I picked out some pasta and sauce, the other family came strolling by. They had a grandma helping them, so I couldn't compete if I wanted to. The little girl had the same face as Audrey - she just stared as they passed - but the little boy said something about winning. If he were older, it would have ended with a drawn-out "Suckaaaaaaa!"
Sebastian was apoplectic: "Mom! They're WINNING! We HAVE to GO! MOM! PUSH ME!" I was trying to pick out elbow macaroni, you know, just in case, because I'm sure that would be on our list. I had time: the competition's grandmother was very choosey about their rotini, proving the advantage and handicap of the extra-generational help in this competition. They beat us due to a hidden box interference. We still had to check the canned goods anyway. You know, just in case there was a good deal or something might be on our non-existent list. The family rounded the next corner.
Sorry, you're on the edge of your seat here. Don't Worry: I sailed right by them while they took a time-out by the Ramen. Sebastian cheered. The other little boy's face got red again so I kept on driving. We picked fruit snacks.
I don't know what happened next. I mean, we got Triscuits? And pork chops? We were in those aisles, but they were a blur. I think this is the point in the grocery store (besides waiting at the deli), where my time just gets lost. Every other aisle is accounted for, but I may actually get abducted in this middle section which is the only way to account for my 2 hours in Oz. All the aisle numbers mesh to form a vortex of brands - which one is the cereal, the crackers, the cookies?
I don't buy many processed foods, but if I'm with Sebastian there's this pressure to hit every single aisle in numerical order. He probably wouldn't notice - I don't even know what's on Aisle 7 - but my kid is slightly OCD and I hate when we get to the frozen foods section and he has a meltdown over skipping Aisle 12, even though we really don't need any cleaning supplies. Plus, there's normally something I'm missing, like a water filter or Oreo cookies. You don't need those until you do, so it's good to shop for them before a crisis. Oreo cookies will probably be currency in the coming apocalypse. I imagine a world where, if you can get mint-condition DoubleStuf with the cream intact, you get control of the territories and all the potable water.
But I digress.
In chips, Sebastian asked if I was his best friend and I jokingly said "What?" He screamed "YES. I. AM. YOUR. BEST. FRIEND." As I recall, the grocery store DJ disc screeched to a stop and all was silent while his words echoed through the store. I picked up a bag of Classic Lays and hurried out of there. Of course we're best friends, right? Is this a test?
In shampoo, there was a woman with three boys, 11, 8, and 3. I mentioned that I was looking for a leave-in treatment because I ought to start taking care of my hair. She looked at me, confused, and then mumbled something about soccer before telling me that the age difference between the first two and her third kid made her realize how fast the time goes. I pushed Audrey back into her seat and took the fascinating bag of popcorn from Sebastian while nodding along with this wise woman. Wait, were we still in front of that other Car Cart or had they already checked out during my Nabisco Aisle Coma?
I remembered to get cat litter. That won't score me any points, but it happened.
Our cart was getting full. I was singing random Daniel Tiger songs. I got conned into a box of Lean Pockets because of a coupon. We went to Dairy, where Sebastian kept pulling random products off a bargain shelf and throwing it on top of the bread. Oh, Ha Ha. Watch me move you away from the shelf because I am bigger and smarter than you but soon you will be 11 and it will go so fast so I should appreciate this. Or something.
I threatened to put rice in Sebastian's ears in front of a woman who obviously thought that was weird. I wondered if she would like to babysit my kids for the next grocery visit since she seemed to know what's up. I didn't ask. The kids saw Donald Duck on some orange juice, then fought me about cheese. The kids each got to pick ice cream and frozen vegetables. Somewhere along the line, Sebastian told Audrey they were both getting balloons if they were good and started threatening to take hers away if she made bad choices. Whaaaat?
By the cheese and butter, I missed Aaron's phone call and called him back while settling a jelly bean dispute (we don't need jelly beans because we don't eat that much candy! Actually we got a big plastic jug of jelly beans on the "Club Deals" aisle). Something in my tone must have impressed Aaron, because he said something about not wanting to "bother me," so I got his requests and cut the call short before he realized what was really happening.
We went to deli, the woman at the bakery gave my kids each a free cookie. I teared up and almost hugged her. Then, I briefly got lost in the plastic cake catalog, which is the dumbest thing to look at with kids but is something I only look at when I bring the kids (otherwise I shop the gourmet cheese/sushi). I was waiting for my sliced turkey while the kids fought over who got the "Lordy Lordy Look Who's 40!" balloon that I didn't plan to buy anyway. Audrey took her shoes off - a process that had begun in the bread aisle, despite my threats - and it was Sebastian's duty to report this every two seconds. For a moment, I jumped Mary-Poppins-style into the King Fu Panda cake, and I was leading Po and the Furious Five out into the parking lot, where the sun directed us to a getaway car that looked cooler than my minivan. Then the deli lady asked how much swiss cheese I wanted and I closed the very-inviting Tangled page, where I most certainly would have wielded a frying pan to stop the balloon argument, which had sent Audrey into a near-meltdown.
We backtracked and got Aaron's Gatorade. I forgot which flavor is his favorite. I decided not to care while I took the box of fruit snacks out of Audrey's prying hands.
I rushed to the checkout line. The woman had signaled to me that she was available at Register 4 before I even got in line. I wondered if the Nobel Committee would honor her alongside that Bakery Saint with the Free Cookies. The bagger began hastily emptying my Car Cart onto the belt. I realized that these groceries would not be bagged according to where I would unload them in the kitchen. That would slow me down later. For now, this bagger was distracting my kids from that black balloon I didn't buy: you win some, you lose some.
The cart was empty and the cashier was almost done ringing me up when I looked at my kids, covered in cookie crumbs. Sebastian was checking each finger for chocolate chip remnants; Audrey was leaning forward, aimlessly, about to rest her head on her Car Cart steering wheel in exhaustion. She hadn't had a nap. She also had not slept through last night, I remembered. I wondered if the little plastic steering wheel would leave a mark on her face as retribution for the sleep I had also lost last night. I also wondered, with a bit more concern, whether Sebastian had to go to the bathroom because I totally zoned out on Aisle 8. Unless I was already arrested and this was a hallucination. Oh, but that woman in the shampoo aisle: This will go so fast! I will remember the days when my little girl fell asleep in the grocery cart...
I snapped my fingers and called Audrey's name. "Audrey, wake up! No ma'am, it's not time to sleep. Wake up!" I had a brief hallucination of a bright tomorrow, when Audrey had slept through the night without crawling into our bed with five naked baby dolls, two blankets, and infinity demands for attention. That vision fizzled because... haha, yeah, right.
The cashier joined in: "Audrey! Audrey!" She tried to look into my daughter's unfocused, no-nap eyes. "You know, the next time you have an appointment, you should ask her doctor about this..."
Son of a biscuit eater, this woman had been trained for the Pregnant Produce Patrol. Here's what I wanted to say...
"Naw man, I have not spent two hours of my life in this grocery store to call the doctor about my kid actually falling asleep. Do you realize I have been talking and singing to myself since I came in here, one, maybe even four hours ago? For the love of all things holy, what day is it? Did I really buy jelly beans and Lean Pockets? Who ARE you? When did I MEET you? How did my grocery cart get emptied onto this conveyor belt so quickly? CAN I HAVE A HUG? Please, my kid is asleep after a week of unloading five naked babies and two blankets onto my bed at 3 AM and I have no idea whether I have a coherent meal for the week. My kid's fine: she's tired, and I kind of want to cry tears of gratitude to the heavens for that. The older one is actually going to let her rest on his shoulder because of that. The major question you can answer is this:
"Did you see two kids in a Car Cart pass by about an hour ago? DID WE WIN?"
Instead I laughed, paid, snapped a couple of pictures of my kids, and went home. Audrey stayed asleep until Aaron played some Army bugle calls on his trumpet next to her bed. Sebastian and I played ball with the neighbor's kid before I made a good, balanced dinner, despite my aimless grocery trip. The trip to the grocery store was 1 hour and 45 minutes of blur that may not have happened if not for a receipt and some pictures:
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| He let her fall asleep on him, with his chocolate chip goatee... |
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| ...but then, in the time he took to wipe his face, she just fell back on the steering wheel. |
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