Worst Grocery Trip Ever

I took the kids to the grocery store yesterday. Ellie was still out of town, so I was soaring without a net. I knew I could handle it, though, because I only needed a couple of things, like the milk I had a coupon for.

I drove into a parking space, unloaded the stroller, and unloaded Tory into the stroller. As I turned back to the car to fetch Ian, I thwacked my forehead on the edge of the open car door. It hurt a little, but I knew I could handle it. Then I set my head on Tory’s open car seat until the endorphins could kick in.

I should’ve stopped right there, packed everything back in the car, and went back home. I knew I was flying solo with a possible concussion, but I trudged forward. I was already at the store, and that coupon was good for an entire dollar off a gallon of milk.

As we walked through the aisles, we met a free sample lady early in the store. Free sample ladies were my favorite grocery store employees when I was a child, and I knew my kids would enjoy their wares as well. They don’t always have great toddler foods to give away; sometimes they have jerky or pizza or something else Abbie won’t touch. This free sample lady had cherry pie, though. Abbie loves cherries, and she loves sugar, so she should love cherry pie.

She eagerly put a spoonful of bright red filling into her mouth, and just as eagerly pulled it out of her mouth with her fingers. Violating every instinct I have about her tastes, she apparently hates cherry pie. She wiped the atomic red goo off her fingers on whatever surfaces were handy, specifically her shirt and the stroller’s fabric.

I found a napkin to clean her and a garbage can to dispose of her perfectly good cherry pie, and we continued on our way. I picked up a couple more items before finding a checkout lane.

Sometimes Abbie is well behaved in the checkout lane, waiting patiently by the cart for me to do my work. Usually she runs around in search of candy packages to open with her teeth, though, which is exactly what she did yesterday. As I chased her down in the next lane, I noticed that she was only wearing one shoe. I knew she had both shoes on when we left the car because I had to reattach them before pulling her from her seat.

I looked around the lane and found no shoes. I did find Ian pulling his shoes off, though. I juggled unloading my items, paying for my items, keeping Abbie by my side, and reattaching Ian’s shoes. If that didn’t teach my high school aged cashier about the importance of family planning, nothing will.

With grocery sacks in hand, we retraced our path through the store. We walked through dairy, around the crackers, and past the free sample lady without seeing any sign of the lost shoe. Disgusted, I walked everyone back to the car while giving thanks that I had one child who could keep his shoes on.*

On the way back to the car, a couple people commented on how cute everyone was, and how I must have my hands full. I usually take these comments in good humor, but, when I’m already mad at the kids for losing their shoes and I literally have my hands full, I found them irritating.

I stopped at the car to load the kids, intent on escaping before anything else happened. While loading Abbie, someone stopped to alert me “my baby was missing a shoe.” I don’t know if she was referring to Ian or Abbie, but I told her I already knew that. I finished loading everyone, and stepped into the driver’s seat. As I reached for the keys, my hands hit a little slip of paper. It was my milk coupon that I’d forgotten to give to the cashier between juggling the children, though I could also blame the growing lump on my forehead for my oversight.

The drive home was without incident.

* I called the store later that night, and they had her shoe. I’m guessing some well-meaning customer picked it up and turned it into customer service before I had a chance to find it on the ground.