Try if You Dare

This week’s re-run is a reminder as to why I never, never, never, ever, ever, ever, ever go to the store with more than one or two or zero kids. Once upon a time I did but truly I don’t know how or why I ever did such things to myself.

Alllllllllso. Since this was originally posted in 2017, I learned about the strike through option from another blog I was reading and I love the sentiment so I updated this post with all kinds of strike throughs. They make me laugh so I hope you enjoy.

Anyway.

So, without further ado…

WARNING: The following contains material that is hazardous to your health.  

There are days when I am home alone with a few to all of my babes.  And on these days the pantry is empty, the fridge is bare and I just have not found a way to make mac ‘n cheese from lasagna noodles and American cheese slices (anyone got that recipe?).

So, I have a choice to make… starve or venture out with kids in tow.  I would actually be fine with starving, but my kids insist that I feed them regularly.  So, reluctantly, I talk myself into heading out to the grocery store with my crew.

First, I have to spend about 65 minutes psyching myself up.  This involves standing in front of my bathroom mirror repeating the following mantra:

“You got this.  It will be fine.  They will listen.  They can help put groceries in the cart.  It might take longer, but you will survive this.”

I don’t ever really believe these affirmations, but I foolishly choose too.

Next, I bribe explain to my kids the importance of staying by mom, holding hands in the parking lot and listening at the store.  They all emphatically agree they will do all said things.  Foreshadowing: my kids are little liar-liars.

Once we arrive at the store, I tell them to stand by the car until I get everyone out.  They usually do.

And then they are done listening.

I spend the next few minutes also known as eternity wrangling kids in the parking lot and dodging cars. We are finally in the store and everyone wants a cart.  And everyone wants to fill their cart.  So, my $XXX grocery budget is now $XXXX.

Whoops.  I usually let it go because it is much easier to be homeless than to listen to them scream while I am trying to remember why on earth I thought starving wasn’t a viable option.

The check out lane is the worst part of the entire experience.  My kids usually see this as an opportunity to steal sneak a bunch of candy.  I spend this time cursing the CEO who decided to prey on innocent mothers with their placement of “impulse purchase” goodies.  I threaten beg them that they hang in there while we get through this last bit of grocery shopping.  We check out with a gazillion snacks, which will be consumed in 48 hours, and a few meals since I couldn’t remember what was on that grocery list on my counter.  Mid week we will be back where we started.

Moral of the story: starving is easier.