Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Grocery Store Drama

There isn’t a mother in America who says “Oh glorious day! Let’s bundle up our little joys from heaven and head to Publix!”

I’ve had complete strangers offer to buy me wine when they see what I go through with my monsters. Everyone at Walmart knows my kids’ names. Not because they’ve told them, but because I’ve screamed it down every fucking aisle I go in. I’ve started calling ahead to SuperTarget to warn them of our arrival. The manager thanks me and then sets up a cute little old lady in the wine section for me to “sample” the wines. Now THAT’S customer service.

When my babies were little, hubs didn’t get the need for me to go to the store by myself. Dumb new dad; no fucking clue. Two kids later, he understands. It took a good beating but it finally sunk in. So, when I do get to go by myself, I tour that shit like it’s a fucking museum. I can tell you the unit price on pickled beets and I check the schedule to see which stock boy will be working that evening. I get all dolled up in the last t-shirt I own that isn’t stained, squeeze into jeans that used to fit and pretend that I really am going to get that pedicure and slip on flip flops and hope that I don’t run into one of hubs’ ex-girlfriends. See people, we live in the city hubs grew up in. Usually when I’m looking my worst is when some stick figure who probably airbrushed her tinted moisturizer on says “Oh my! It’s so nice to see you! Tell hubs I said ‘hi’ as I’m off to New York for another photo shoot!” It’s like an imaginary bitch slap and she knows it. I squeezed two watermelons out of my kiwi, top that shit you twat.

When I don’t get to go alone it all starts out with good intentions. I give the kids that one hour warning of going to the store. Then I listen to them bitch and moan and ask if they can get something while they’re there. “Like what? Food to eat? Consider it done.” I think I repeat “Get your shoes on; we’re going to the store!” 37 times before I actually have to start screaming and then wrestle them into a worn out pair of crocs. Because I don’t want anyone bitching about their fucking socks and how they’re bunched up at the toe.

Then getting my kids into the booster seats is like putting socks on a cat. And you better believe the drive to the store is just as fun. “I don’t wanna go. It’s sooooo boring. Are you just getting a few things? I don’t want you to take forever. Why can’t we stay home with dad? Can we get the free cookie? I hate going in the cold section of the store. Did you bring my jacket? I don’t want cinnamon waffles this time, I want chocolate ones. You’re the meanest mom ever to make us go with you.”

We pull up; get out of the car by me saying “Get out of the car. Get out of the car. Get out of the car.” (I usually say things three times before screaming it. It’s a rule in our house.) They’re now out of the car and running into the street. Fucking great. I hope I get hit by a bus. It would feel much better than the migraine that’s starting.

Can anyone out there actually maneuver the “Race Car” grocery cart? That thing is a bitch, yes? I’m all of 5’2” and I don’t have the body strength to turn corners with that beast. So, I usually have to argue with my kids so I can get the regular cart. But of course the one I pick is the Nascar cart. You know…the one that keeps trying to turn left the entire time?

I’m not sure if you knew this or not, but cashiers have a PhD in child rearing. True story. I’ve gotten more advice from the bitch sliding my kraft American cheese slices across the scanner than I have from Dr. Sears and Supernanny combined. “Wow, really Ms. Cashier lady? I should put them in time out? You’re a fucking genius. Now go clean up the 14 push-up pops that my kids just spilled onto the floor and make my $20 cash back all in ones; hubs and I have date night at the strip club.”

After I’ve grown 19 grey hairs and I’m about to pee my pants because I haven’t gone all day, I hear this…

Older son to little brother: Omg. What’s that smell? Did you fart?

Younger son (hollars out to the entire store with his hands up): Sorry everyone! That was my big fart for the day.

And then I pee my pants. Someone shoot me.

Bag Boy: Do you need help to your car?

Me: You bet. I’ll ride on your shoulders while you steer.

Bag Boy: What?

Me: Did I stutter?

Kids in the car, pull in the driveway and scream 982 times for the kids to stop playing with the sunroof and get out of the car. “Get in the house! I’ve got cheese to put away!”

And then…

Hubs: What took you so long?

Me: (throws the grocery bag with cans at his head)

Hubs: What the what? What did I do?

Me: Got me pregnant. Twice.

When I want to go by myself, this usually happens…

Wife: Honey, what time will you be home tonight? Gotta run to the store and I'm not taking the monsters.
Husband: 'bout 5:30.
Wife: Which time zone?
Husband: Ours. Smartass.
Wife: a.m or p.m?
Husband: (click).

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Being married to me is no fucking picnic. Neither is taking kids to the grocery store.


  1. I almost peed my pants reading this post!!

    SO SO SO true. SO true. Have mentioned that it's true? Most of the time I only bring my youngest to the grocery store and it's STILL a disaster most of the time. Going by myself is such a luxury!!

  2. LMAO I could have written that ENTIRE post. But mine would have had a bunch more crying and whining involved (mine, not my kids!)

  3. I'm so glad I'm not the only one who has the say it 3 times then yell rule! Awesome post!

  4. Love this. Thanks for sharing it Michelle. Adding to my feed.

  5. Oh my gosh this is hilarius I needed a laugh and this cracked me up I have the 4 then yell rule I don't do odds. But not for my children hell no for my grandchildren. They have this way of looking at you when you tell them something like you can put on that sleepy music will see if I fall a sleep and who wins amaw. I love the old tried and true get those toys up the vacuums coming and it will suck those toys up ahh to trick a 4 year old. Any how I love this and please keep this coming.

  6. I think there's something in the air at my local grocery store. As soon as we go in there my two boys are literally rolling down the aisles. I get in there and get out as fast as I can. Then my two year old loves to scream his happy screams. Which I don't even want to hear so I'm sure all the old ladies love it!

  7. I see your 2 kids and I raise you my 3. You are in my prayers. You are hilarious.

  8. Oh, thank you. I love this post so much.

    Thanks for the laughs!