Shopping 'Till We're Dropping.

I used to run errands all the time during weekdays. If I needed groceries, I’d hit the grocery store, pick up some frozen custard, and head back home. If I needed some sort of Vital Supply, I’d stop at the appropriate big box store, swing by the frozen custard store, and return home. If I needed out of the house to stay sane, I’d make up something to shop for, grabbing frozen custard on the way home.

Now I have twin boys, and I’m too busy fulfilling the every whim of three children to worry about my sanity. I’m also stuck at home most days out of necessity. Taking three mostly to entirely helpless children out of the house without adult assistance is more trouble than it’s worth. By the time I wake the twins, feed them, pack them into their carriers, pack the diaper bag, give Abbie a handful of Goldfish because she’s screaming for them after seeing me pack them in the diaper bag, change everyone’s diapers including the twins since I forgot to change them before packing them up, strap on Abbie’s shoes, and lock everyone in the car, it’s once again time to feed the twins, who fell asleep in their carriers long ago and are now awake, fully refreshed, and hungry.

Even when I desperately need something during the day like milk or, God help us, diapers, I’m still reluctant to leave the house because it’s too difficult to herd three small children in public without walls or a greedy dog who’s always on the lookout for dropped food to help. Abbie has matured to the point where if I really need something that’s small enough to fit in the stroller’s storage compartment, I can trust her to walk with us while the twins ride in the stroller. If I need anything that requires a shopping cart, forget it; transporting a stroller filled with twins and a shopping cart filled with Abbie single-handedly is nigh impossible until someone invents a harness system to attach the stroller to my body for hands-free haulage.

Making life more difficult is Ellie’s schedule, which is the typical resident schedule. Of the total 168 hours in a week, I estimate the Ellie works an average of at least 167.7835 of those hours. At least, she’s outside the house that much each week; I assume that part of those hours is spent engaging in witty banter like on “Scrubs.”

Ellie enjoyed a rare night off last night, so we celebrated by cramming as many errands into the evening as the twins’ nap feeding allowed. We spent literally 20 minutes the night before planning our outing, dividing items into categories of “need,” “desperately need,” and “Matt will crumple into a whimpering ball if we don’t acquire tomorrow.” Then we listed all the stores we needed to visit, setting the patronization order while saving others for our next outing, remembering that we’d need to stop for supper early in the expedition, and ensuring that the last store would leave my frozen custard supplier on the way home.

Naturally we left that list at home. No matter; we’d spent enough time poring over it that I’d memorized it. Working from memory, we made an efficient nine stops at places of business in just over three hours. We bought pet supplies, groceries, and frozen custard, returning home in time to wake the twins and feed them before putting them down for the night.

Then the adults collapsed from exhaustion. Our current system is still easier than trying to take all three children out by myself, but I miss the days when I could space out my errands over several days, taking Abbie to one or two stops at a time. Life was less strenuous then, plus I got more frozen custard that way.