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But What Would My Sour Be?
- By Tara Martell
- Published 06/28/2007
- Helpful Hints on How to Think
I have recently gotten into bargain shopping. Grocery shopping has become, dare I say, a hobby. I religiously clip coupons from my four papers, organize them, pour over store advertisements and watch a website to help me with all this madness. My four-year-old will yell in support, “Wow, great bargain mom!” in the isles of the grocery store and knows by sight the names of the many stores we frequent.
Excited to have the four-year-old in preschool, and with only the one-year-old in tow, I headed off to the market. My list was organized, my coupons were cut and in order, the baby was fed and a generally happy guy…this would be a piece of cake. We had two stops to make. The first was for some great deals at the local drug store. I placed my strapping young fellow in the seat of the miniature cart and raced to the toilet paper isle, fearing as I do on a Wednesday, that everyone else will have gotten there first. I was in luck. I pilled my cart full of toilet paper: an amazing deal. Halfway through my stockpiling I realized that the dwarf sized cart would not be sufficient to hold all my treasures. With cart in tow, we headed to the front to get a second one.
My son, realizing his boredom, found that if he stretched just enough, he could grab a pack of toilet paper from the cart and pitch it over the edge! A game that made him giggle hysterically. While sweating, I managed to wrangle all the necessary toilet paper into my two carts, retrieve the flying packages (the kid is developing a nice arm) and make it up to the front counter. Here the woman complemented my son on what an infectious giggle he had, that she could “hear it all over the store.” I smiled a serene smile, while feeling the stress inside, just glad to have the first stop over.
Next was the grocery store. It was rather uneventful, going smoothly and rather quickly. My stress had diminished and I was again feeling the euphoria of my bargains. With a cart halfway full, standing in the cereal isle, a young woman started asking questions about the rules of the sale. I turned my back to help her, explaining all the wisdom I had acquired on the subject, feeling quite satisfied with myself at being able to help out this newly-married, poor, college student. I turned around to hear a splat and a hysterical giggle. My son, under the watchful eye of an employee walking down the isle, had thrown a container of cottage cheese over the edge. He was staring at his mess, laughing. What kind of a kid was I raising, who laughed at being naughty? What a bad mom--not even watching the kid, too busy disseminating knowledge to strangers! The glaring clerk cleaned up the mess, as I profusely apologized. We quickly finished up, and left to pick up the preschooler.
On the drive home, I promised to no longer shop with the children. Midnight runs to the grocery store in my pajamas would probably be my equivalent to a day at the spa, I told myself. Who needs sleep, it would be much better to not have to endure all this. I had only had one with me, two is utter chaos and note to self, I cannot handle more children.
Excited to have the four-year-old in preschool, and with only the one-year-old in tow, I headed off to the market. My list was organized, my coupons were cut and in order, the baby was fed and a generally happy guy…this would be a piece of cake. We had two stops to make. The first was for some great deals at the local drug store. I placed my strapping young fellow in the seat of the miniature cart and raced to the toilet paper isle, fearing as I do on a Wednesday, that everyone else will have gotten there first. I was in luck. I pilled my cart full of toilet paper: an amazing deal. Halfway through my stockpiling I realized that the dwarf sized cart would not be sufficient to hold all my treasures. With cart in tow, we headed to the front to get a second one.
My son, realizing his boredom, found that if he stretched just enough, he could grab a pack of toilet paper from the cart and pitch it over the edge! A game that made him giggle hysterically. While sweating, I managed to wrangle all the necessary toilet paper into my two carts, retrieve the flying packages (the kid is developing a nice arm) and make it up to the front counter. Here the woman complemented my son on what an infectious giggle he had, that she could “hear it all over the store.” I smiled a serene smile, while feeling the stress inside, just glad to have the first stop over.
Next was the grocery store. It was rather uneventful, going smoothly and rather quickly. My stress had diminished and I was again feeling the euphoria of my bargains. With a cart halfway full, standing in the cereal isle, a young woman started asking questions about the rules of the sale. I turned my back to help her, explaining all the wisdom I had acquired on the subject, feeling quite satisfied with myself at being able to help out this newly-married, poor, college student. I turned around to hear a splat and a hysterical giggle. My son, under the watchful eye of an employee walking down the isle, had thrown a container of cottage cheese over the edge. He was staring at his mess, laughing. What kind of a kid was I raising, who laughed at being naughty? What a bad mom--not even watching the kid, too busy disseminating knowledge to strangers! The glaring clerk cleaned up the mess, as I profusely apologized. We quickly finished up, and left to pick up the preschooler.
On the drive home, I promised to no longer shop with the children. Midnight runs to the grocery store in my pajamas would probably be my equivalent to a day at the spa, I told myself. Who needs sleep, it would be much better to not have to endure all this. I had only had one with me, two is utter chaos and note to self, I cannot handle more children.
Comments
Comment #1 (Posted by Laura Doud )
Thank you for sharing your family tradition and your humorous episodes at the grocery store! I could visualize and relate to the whole experience!
Comment #2 (Posted by Debbie Sanders)
I can totally relate. Thanks for helping me realize that although we sometimes don't remember the sweet in our lives they are there (along with the sour). Cute family tradition.