Going out on My Own

I enjoyed a rare treat yesterday: I got to go grocery shopping by myself. No boys to heft between car seats and stroller and back again. No Abbie to herd in the general direction I want her to go and hope that she doesn’t open a package of cookies while my back is turned. No wife to slip a package of cookies into the cart while my back is turned.

The impetus for this event is Ellie’s illness. We had planned a glorious evening of grocery shopping as a family last night. That plan went down the tubes like so much gut vermin when Ellie stumbled home early, sick from the same stomach illness I’d suffered through a couple days before. I had just set the kids down for a nap, and was trying to nap as well when she collapsed into bed and suggested I get groceries immediately while the kids napped.

I was torn. Ellie couldn’t go out with me or watch the kids later tonight, and our next two nights were already booked even if she recovers as fast as I did. This was my only chance to get groceries until at least Sunday. The boys needed milk, but I needed a nap. Could the boys function without milk? Probably, but not without screaming. Could I function without a nap? Probably, but not without screaming at least a little.

I decided I had a better chance of holding it in than the boys, and opted for the grocery store. This wasn’t my weekly trip to the usual grocery store, though.* This was my bimonthly trip to the off-brand grocery store, the place with the suspiciously cheap cereal and produce alongside reasonably priced milk. I go to this store sporadically and stock up because cereal has a long shelf life, and I still have a little free space in the basement.

I hopped in my car, popped out the children’s music CD, and popped in the Ben Folds CD, the one I can never play with the kids along because the first track is entitled “Bastard.” Off I went to the store to shop for groceries unencumbered by the demands of children. This turned out to be an especially good thing since I left at the beginning of rush hour, and my children usually demand that the car be moving.

The funny thing is once I entered the store, all I could think about was the kids. After packing my cart full of cereal, I took a long look through the toy aisle even though for Christmas my children are already getting one of every toy on the market rated for children of all ages.

When I rounded a corner, I saw and heard a screaming child with an exasperated mother, and felt total sympathy for the mother because for all I knew all three of my kids were doing the same thing at that moment.

At the checkout line, the mother ahead of me had her two daughters, the older one about Abbie’s age and the younger one about the boys’ age. As I watched the mother unload the cart, the baby sat motionless in the cart while the toddler innocently poked foil-wrapped candy and played with a gate. I could only wish my children behaved that well.

While I unloaded my cart, the man behind me looked at my gross of cereal boxes, and offered to help me to speed the line. After he pulled the last of my five gallons of milk from the cart, I asked if he could tell I had kids. He said I’m doing it the right way.

I paid for my groceries, wheeled them out to the car, and loaded them for the ride home. I needed to return before the kids woke up and started bothering Ellie just like her nausea. I pulled the car out of the lot, and drove out a little further to buy some frozen custard for the ride home. Sure, it was 50 degrees out, but that’s warm for Iowa in December, plus I didn’t have any kids to bug me for a taste. They were still asleep back home anyway.

* But considering they’re closed on Sundays, I maybe should’ve gone there instead.