Adventures in Grocery Shopping

Remember when you could decide to go grocery shopping at the last minute late on a Sunday night?  Maybe you threw together a list, maybe you didn't.  Who cared?  If you forgot anything it was just a quick trip to swing by and pick it up.  Maybe you had a complicated dish you want to try, or maybe you just needed some snack foods for studying, but either way, grocery shopping was easy and almost fun.  Remember when you didn't almost want to take a vacation day from work just to grocery shop?

Man how things change, right?  Now I start dreading the grocery trip when I wake up on Sunday morning.  All through breakfast or church or football pregame, I'm thinking about it.  We have a great little app on the iPad that's linked to both of our phones, so I can tell Ryan's thinking about it too.  "Bananas" pops up on my phone.  Then "yogurt," "apples," "chips."  Ryan's adding things as they come to him.  The knot in my stomach gets bigger.  We're rapidly approaching the first big hurdle...

He's two Cokes and a bag of Doritos in...it's about to go down

What's for dinner?  No single question strikes more fear in my heart.  I don't care if we're in town, out of town, eating in, or eating out.  I abhor this question.  Preparing for a week of groceries means you have to answer this question for the next six nights.  So I have to decide what we're in the mood to eat, what I'm going to have time to cook, and how many times we're actually going to cook.  And menu planning for a picky eight year old is no joke.  You wouldn't believe how many recipes I've crossed off for a single ingredient just to avoid a fight.  Getting Alli to settle down and eat at dinner is challenging enough - I don't need to be fighting her over what we're having.  So Ryan and I discuss the menu, and we probably settle on the same three or four things - spaghetti, a variation of pork chops, and a chicken dish.  Here lately with the baby taking up so much time, we've really taken a liking to the crock pot, which means we have a weekly rotation of about three dishes.  I wish I were more inventive in the kitchen, but I'm just not.

So once that hurdle is cleared, it's time to actually load up and go to the store.  This takes a lot more planning than it used to with Riley.  We usually time it right after she eats so she will either be happy or sleeping.  Once it's time, we head off to Wal-Mart.  Wal-Mart is always an experience in itself.  Depending on the season and whatever Alli's latest obsession is, we probably have a whole section to browse through before we can even start shopping.  Today it was the Halloween section.  And somehow, I walked out with a 3.5 ft blow up ghost that you'll be seeing on my lawn in a week or so.  I'm not really even sure how it happened.

Ryan has a perfect system for Wal-Mart.  First he hits produce, then meat, then dairy, then chips and snacks.  Then he winds his way towards the front, hitting the aisles he needs to on his way back to the light (aka the exit door).  I'm sure without the three of us girls in tow, it would take him fifteen minutes.  But since grocery shopping is a family affair, this becomes an hour long ordeal.

Alli spends the majority of the trip acting like a ninja.  Not sure if you've ever met a ninja, but they are stealthy.  So a portion of this time, she's attempting to sneak up on or hide from Ryan and I.  She's peeking around the end caps, she's hiding behind the displays, and I am saying for the forty fifth time "Where's Alli?"

Have you ever actually tried to navigate Wal-Mart on a Sunday afternoon?  It's literally like walking through a battlefield.  Ryan's well-equipped for such things given two tours in Iraq, but Alli and I struggle.  While she's stealthing around, she almost gets run over twenty times by people in pajamas who seem to think they are in a bigger hurry than anyone else.  I mean really?  You're wearing pajamas.  Wherever you're going, it can't be that critical.  I've been bruised on the hip from a cart, had my heels run up on, and have sniped repeatedly at anyone who almost rams the ninja master.

Once we finally make our way to the checkout and we're only fifth in line behind people with carts as full as ours, Alli nearly always finds something she needs.  Never mind if we just bought her something.  Never mind if she already has something similar.  And never mind if it's just a literal piece of crap, she's decided she wants it and she's going to bring it up multiple times while you're in line.  "Hey, I really want that stuffed unicorn with a flashlight in its belly that neighs.  Remember that unicorn flashlight?  I really want it.  Can't you buy it with all of your money?  Don't you have lots of money?  Can't you buy it?  It's so cute.  I really want it.  It's a unicorn and a flashlight.  I don't want to save my money, can't you buy it?  I really want it.  I love it.  Remember that unicorn flashlight?  I need it."  At some point, the "No no no no no no no no" you've been repeating since she brought it up finally sinks in and she looks something like this:

Feelings were hurt in the making of this picture.  But no unicorn flashlights were purchased.

Cue the arms crossed pout for the next five minutes.  Or until the next toy comes along.  Walking out today, I spied a mom of three leaning against a beer display with her head in her hands.  Why, Arkansas, why will you not sell us beer on Sunday?  It's grocery day, and she's shopping with three kids.  This lady needs some beer.  Help her.

When you finally do make it out to the car alive, it dawns on you.  You totally forgot toilet paper.  When you got near the toilet paper aisle, your kid was fake whirling nunchucks and almost took out a toddler.  After someone tried to run her over.  Before you almost lost track of her for the third time, but after she saw the Ninja Turtle activity book she thought she needed that you said no to.  And you think to yourself, "We can go another day or two without toilet paper, right?"