This weekend was a Momster weekend. SuperDad was racing his bike on Saturday so I spent the day with my two favorite dudes. We had swim class, ran some errands, ate some lunch, played outside … you know, the usual.
When word came that the bikers weren’t going to be back until closer to 8PM than 4PM, as we had initially expected, I decided to pull the trigger on a grocery trip mid-afternoon, with the dudes in tow. We were running low on some mandatories … milk, bread, fruit to be snacked on, beer for post-race, steak for low iron, etc.
Perhaps some of the mayhem that ensued in the grocery store had to do with the fact that I interrupted the “flow” of the afternoon to dash to the store. But I figured the free cookies at the store would suffice. They certainly were a pick-me-up for me!
I opted to do self-checkout because the boys were in the “racecar cart” and I figured I could keep them in there while I did the quick duty of getting things paid for. I didn’t have much to buy.
Of course, that was NOT happening. While my oldest was happy to do circus moves to try to help unload the cart from the driver’s seat, my nearly 2-year-old was having NOTHING of any of it. He wanted to be out of the cart but not on the ground. He wanted to continue to touch the scanner, automatically generating an error (as if there was a plum or lime on the scale) and requiring the woman at the “self-checkout station” to clear the errors no fewer than 12 times — please note I only purchased five things. It was awesome.
And while my oldest was YELLING that there was a coupon which had snuck out of the machine, my little guy was screaming and doing crazy back arches in an attempt to control the credit card scanner.
it went on, and on, and on!
Finally though, I had my receipt. I had my boys somewhat contained — one in my arms the other taking command of the “steering wheel” and the bags were loaded back in to the racecar for quick transport out to my personal “racecar.”
And what does the self-checkout station woman say as I’m schlepping my family past her computer?
“They MUST look like their Dad because in my opinion, I see NO RESEMBLANCE WHATSOEVER!”
Thanks Maaam, perhaps it’s because they don’t look like me that they refuse to listen. Or, wait, perhaps it’s because they’re 4 years-old and 22 months-old respectively… and the grocery store SUCKS for everyone.
Her one saving grace was not requiring my ID to purchase the beer. Ugh, my age was clearly showing … and she was probably thinking if I wasn’t old enough to legally drink I was going to need to with those rugrats (who are really wonderful boys who were in perfectly fine moods once we cleared the automatic doors)!
To sum it all up, I have to say, “thank you for the insight, but no thank you in the future.” It’s funny how people are ripe with comments as soon as you show signs of pregnancy. I might have preferred if that woman had tried to rub my belly (and I’m NOT pregnant!)