A Trip to The Grocery Store

My friend Robyn is an amazing writer and keeps me regularly entertained with her blog. A few weeks ago she posted this story: A blessing and a curse: The car cart. If you have the time, read it and it will crack you up, I promise! Anyway, I had a similar encounter yesterday that I thought I'd share.

First let me start by saying that my ideal trip to the grocery store would be to send my husband with a list and stay home. Next option would be to go by myself to Aldi (instead of the huge stores like Wegmans that has LOTS of expensive distractions) with a short list. I can be in and out of the store in 20 minutes. If I can't go by myself, then I'd take Leah with me, but only if I am armed with something that will distract her for long enough before she realizes she is strapped into the cart (like a bag of m & m's). If I have nothing to distract her, then I'll choose the car cart and endure the comments and annoyed looks of my co-shoppers. Of course, I'd go to the store as late as possible to avoid the rush.

For some reason beyond my comprehension at this point, I allowed my husband to convince me that a family trip to Wegmans on a Sunday afternoon after a long, tiring day at the park with Rusty and Leah and a REALLY BIG HILL and no time for a nap and a grocery list full of South Beach Diet approved items (some of which we've never purchased before) would be a nice, family outing.

I'm sure you can see where I'm going with this.

Let me remind you that my husband is still wearing a cast-boot with layers of wrappings for his broken leg/foot/ankle. Normally he would opt for the electric cart. Not today. He wanted to walk.

Leah sat in the car cart for about three seconds. When she realized that daddy was part of this shopping trip, she knew the rules would be different. My philosophy? Prevention. "Ok Leah. Now look at me. Listen. I will let you out of the car cart ONLY IF YOU PROMISE NOT TO TOUCH ANYTHING, okay?" "Ok mama. I won't touch anything." Unbuckle the belt. Ryan's philosophy? Let her put anything she wants in the cart and then just tell the cashier that we don't want it and make the stock boy put 75 items back on the shelf.

Enter Chaos.

So now here I am with the ill-engineered car cart with no child in it. Hot. At least with Leah in the car I can hope that she'll charm people with her blond ringlets and bright blue eyes....when the car is child-less the stares from strangers quickly change from annoyance to fear. I mean for someone to push around one of those carts ON PURPOSE with NO CHILD? There must be severe mental illness involved.

After hearing me admonish Leah about every three seconds, Ryan says "You know what? Why don't you let me take care of Leah....we get along better in the grocery store." Fine.

15 minutes later..."Ryan, where's Leah?" Ryan: "I don't know".

After about an hour of weaving in and out between the 40 somethings with their mini-carts to the 80 somethings with their baskets, I was exhausted and frustrated beyond repair. As we pulled up to the check out line I realized that the combination of the car cart, a frustratingly tired toddler and my plus size ass is impossible to maneuver through the lane. A few seconds of embarrassed fear pass while I try to figure out how the hell I am going to get my items on the belt. In the meantime, Leah is laying on her stomach on the floor screaming that she "WANTS TO GO HOME!". Eventually, I realize I can toss the items from the cart to the belt...this works well until I reach the items in glass. For this, I attempt to squeeze my size LARGE self into the size EXTREMELY SMALL space between the cart and the counter. I am able to fit in enough to balance on one foot while bending over the front of the cart, which also, i forgot to mention, has an infant seat attached to it, also empty, because it was the only car cart left, while shifting one breast to the side and holding onto the counter with my left hand. Essentially, a circus act.

Ryan finds us with his last minute items just as I am putting my last item on the belt and wants to know why Leah is on the floor? No concern for why my breast is dangling precariously between the baby seat and the moving conveyor belt...no concern whatsoever. He then decides he needs to use the bathroom....NOW....and conveniently misses the part of the trip where I am trying to maneuver the car cart with empty car and baby seat through the masses with Leah sitting on the rack on the bottom of the cart directly in front of me, turned backwards, swinging her legs and yelling "WHEE" at the top of her lungs. He also misses the part where I get to the car only to find that the multimillion dollar hummer SUV that has parked next to us is so HUGE that it fills its own parking spot plus half of mine. As I try to open the back door without scratching the SUV, shutting the car door on Leah's finger, or my dangling breasts, for that matter, while trying to get Leah buckled into her car seat while trying to avoid her sitting in the melted god only knows what in her car seat with her brand new white pants (who decided it was a good idea to make WHITE pants in a size 3T?)....I look up to find that my passenger and driver-less car cart is slowing rolling away towards another multimillion dollar SUV....CRAP!

Drop Leah, grab the cart, wedge it against the side of my car and the bumper of the less expensive looking car parked on the other side of me, buckle Leah, close door. Deep Breath. Open the trunk only to find it full of...well....everything. Close the trunk, throw the bags in the back seat, silently cursing myself for forgetting my cloth bags as the plastic, shapeless bags fall off the seat and hit the floor, spewing their contents.

Get in. Buckle up. Turn on the A/C full blast. Back up, drive back to the front of the store, where Ryan is waiting patiently with his casted leg sticking out.

As he gets into the car, a passerby notices his casted leg and says "Boy, that sure doesn't look like fun!"

Oh, the irony.