Grocery day

Grocery day. For most people, this event is nothing more than a ritualistic gathering of food. For the at-home mom with children under school age, that half-dreaded but necessary day of the week comes too quickly. It is the day where you bravely venture forth into a land full of imminent exhaustion and continual physical demand. It is a veritable playground to your children who find every box, every can, every bag of food fascinating.
My grocery trip started simply enough. The kids were behaving well after breakfast, so I made the decision to embark on our weekly adventure. The baby sat prettily in the seat of the cart and my toddler looked comfortable sucking his thumb in the basket. The first stop: milk. An easy acquisition. The large gallons of white fluid are too heavy for my 1 year old to lift, so he was satisfied with simply pushing them around the spacious “cage.” We then added some cheese to the mix. These crinkly bags were much more fun for him to play with.
Up and down the aisles we went. He shook the cereal boxes and tapped the cans, making music with each new addition to his collection. And then it happened. I saw a great sale. I just had to buy as many cans of peaches and pears as I could. As the cans piled up, my son was elated to receive so much attention. He excitedly began arranging the items as best as he could. His thrill lasted only a few moments before he realized that his legs were practically buried in the cold metal objects. That’s when the trouble started. I still had to get through the produce section and the frozen foods before we could leave and I had a fussy toddler demanding his freedom. I did my best to re-arrange the tower of cans, but he would not be satisfied and his frustration became quite verbal.
Then the baby in front wanted to know what was going on. She turned around in her seat, saw all the goodies that her brother got to play with and she wanted one too. At only 8 months old, her little hands were too small to hold the heavy cans of food, so I was forced to give her a bag of spaghetti for entertainment. Naturally, that bag now has teeth marks along the edges from her “play.”
After grabbing the frozen pizza and ice cream we dashed for the checkout line. My son was so tired of being surrounded and limited in his movement that he started to throw things out of the cart. I had to get down and dirty with him right there in the checkout line. Finally, we made it out of the store and into the car.
Upon arriving home, I (naturally) placed the kids out of the way in the living room while I brought all the food inside. They were not too happy about being behind their security fence and I had to listen to the cries and make every attempt at consolation while bringing the food into the house. When it was all over, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Remind me again…how do people say that at-home moms don’t work?