Friday, August 19, 2005
I just got home from what might possibly be one of the worst visits to the grocery store I've had in a while. It began with the shopping cart. I had both my kidlets with me, so I was looking for one that had a belt that worked as my daughter is intent on escaping any and all carts. I went through 5 carts and all didn't work. So I finally just grab one, pop daughter in and head in the door. I quickly realize that the cart not only doesn't have a belt that works, but lists to the right. So here I am trying to hold my daughter down, shop and guide a left listing cart with one hand around the store with my son in tow. It's difficult, but I'm making it. Then around the onion bin, I son says, "Mommy, I need to pee-pee." Lovely. I rush the cart and him all the way to the other end of the store where the bathroom is. I leave my cart, get my daughter out of the seat and head into the bathroom. I think I pulled a muscle holding my daughter in one arm and hefting my son up onto the potty with the other. Of course before this I'm one-handing the toilet paper covers to make it somewhat sanitary. He pees, I'm one-arming off the potty and trying to wrestle his clothes back up. We finish collect our cart and go all the way back across the store to where we left off. For the rest of the trip, I'm battling my daughter's desire to escape and trying to keep my son from putting every box that has any character that he recognizes into the cart. By the time I reach the check-out, my hair I'm sure was flying in a million directions and I had the wild-eye look of a mad woman. I know this because two other shoppers who pulled into the line behind me moved to other lines. They moved not because I was taking too long; they moved because I looked demented. Of this I'm sure. I'm going to go eat some Tapioca now and try to relax.