Adventures of Grocery Shopping with Children

Around the time that I stopped fitting in at Starbucks "stopping at Target for paper towels" became an hour of wielding an enormous cart that should require a driver's license to operate, a half hour of sitting in the fitting room nursing, and saying, "Aiden, put that back" a minimum of fifty times. One of the many things that I have learned since having children is that nothing is every quick and stopping somewhere means spending a minimum of an hour at said place. Okay, that is two things. Everything takes planning, and don't forget diapers, wipes, a nursing wrap, snacks, toys, or your wallet. I have obviously never forgotten any such items.

If you don't think a simple task such as grocery shopping requires a survival plan, you have never had children, in which case you are probably not reading this in the first place. If you are reading this while your live-in nanny is locked in the basement with the kids, you can leave now. I am sure you have a pedicure to get to.

Okay, now that they are gone, I will share with you my own personal grocery shopping survival rules. I am opened to further tips. Here it goes:

Grocery Shopping with Kids Survival Guide

1. Know your kid friendly stores. Jewel is not one of them. For those of you residing outside of the Midwest, Jewel is an overpriced version of every other grocery store. If you want to pay 5.69 for a loaf of Wonder Bread, by all means shop there. I usually choose Trader Joes, which has mini carts for the kids to "help" with shopping, or Target which has carts large enough to seat an entire preschool.

2. Go at a time least likely to produce melt downs. In other words, not at 4:00 P.M. when your preschooler is hungry only for cookies and you ran out of patience five hours ago. Now that I learned this the hard way.

3. Accept the fact that you will buy at least three items that you do not need because you will get tired of putting things back on the shelf after your child has hurled them into the cart. I hope you like chili lime dusted nuts.

4. Try to avoid the bathroom. Enough said.

5. If necessary, scout out places to discreetly nurse before you need them, and come up with a snide response for the employee that asks, "Can't you do THAT in the bathroom?".

6. Just by the damn chocolate chip cookies.

7. When your baby starts wailing and concerned onlookers start giving you the eye, say something smart ass like, "I wish this thing had an off switch!"

8. When people ask, "Aww, how is he sleeping? Are you getting any rest? You look tired." try to resist throwing a tub of cream cheese at them. They mean well.

9. Let your toddler help throw things on the belt and don't be too shy to ask the checkout clerk for a sticker. And something for your child.

10. If you only spend two hours in the store, you all get home alive, and the groceries make it from the car to the house to the cabinets/fridge sometime before bed you have succeeded. Congratulations.

Happy shopping!

The Day That I Stopped Fitting In At Starbucks

Here I am sitting at Starbucks enjoying an over-priced, 600 calorie mocha and joining the other studious, laptop-wielding workers as I get some writing done while Aiden is at preschool.  I have decided that using 40 of my 150 preschool minutes driving back and forth is a sad waste, and I have long ago given up the fantasy that I will actually complete some housework, so here I am at the Starbucks.  Conveniently, the Starbucks is located right down the street from preschool. No, the location of this Starbucks had nothing to do with my choice of preschool, why would you even think that?

Even so, I love coffee and I have always enjoyed the atmosphere at Starbucks. The coffee, the over-sharing cell phone conversations, the professional working people, the crying baby... oh wait, I am the only with the crying baby.  Don't mind us people, just continue your work.  See, I have a laptop and I am working too!  I realize that my laptop has a monkey rattle on the keyboard. Hmmm, why is the man next to me plugging headphones into his computer?  The man on the other side of me is saying into his cell phone, "Sorry, I am at a Starbucks. They should not allow crying babies in this type of establishment," while glaring in my direction.  Okay, he didn't actually say the last part out loud.

I am tempted to grab my cell phone and say something like, "I will have that report in your inbox by two, Jerry" before my undercover act as a professional working person is completely blown. I don't know who Jerry is, by the way, but it sounds like a boss's name, right? Just agree. Okay, now I have spit up on my laptop and my suit pants, okay fine five year yoga pants with the knees worn from crawling around on the floor with my preschooler playing garbage man.  

Cover blown! Cover blown! Abort mission!!!

I have never received so many dirty looks in one establishment, and that is really saying something. I realize it is my own fault. Clearly my delusional fantasy of the baby sleeping soundly in his stroller while I type away uninterrupted was, well, delusional. I blame lack of sleep. And lack of coffee. Now if you will excuse me, I am going to further ruin the workday of the gentleman next to me with public nursing and then I am going to flee this Starbucks and add it to the list of places at which I am no longer welcome.

It looks like Aiden will have to change preschools...

In The Beginning

It was just two high school sweethearts making plans for the rest of their lives and beginning the blueprints for their 5,000 square foot home on a golf course in the middle of a spiraling horse ranch. The boy will grow up to be a professional golfer with a booming accounting career on the side while the girl will be a Lexus-driving PhD with her own counseling practice. Even though she has a full client load, her house will always be clean, her hamper will always be empty, and a piping hot nutritious organic dinner will be just out of the oven when her hubby gets home from the golf course (or his own accounting firm, depending on the day). Having ample savings, the girl will make a seamless transition to stay at home mom when her first baby is born, and she will continue to keep her house clean, her Lexus running, and she will puree her own baby food. She will never resort to yelling, spanking, microwaving chicken nuggets, or saying I told you so. Her husband will arrive home at 5:00 P.M. each day and continue to provide a sizable paycheck. The high school sweet hearts are very confident in their life plan as they try to secure a non parental ride to prom.

Fast forward fifteen years, two kids, and a double mortgage. My husband and I met in high school (no awwws, please). We went our separate ways for a while in college while he studied accounting in Florida and I stayed in Illinois freezing my ass off, collecting cats, and working on my clinical psychology degree. I figured I would have my career well-established and have adequate savings by the time I had children at the ripe old age of twenty five. My now-husband and I reconnected in our last year of college and my first year of graduate school. We got married just six months after I lost my dad to cancer and put my degree on hold, just until we got settled. It turns out a half of a masters degree is not very useful.

Today I am a stay at home mom with two boys. Aiden is three and a half and Elliott is four months. No, he does not sleep through the night but thanks for asking. I started my blogs: The Crib and Mom At Home: My Boss Wears Diapers when Aiden was a baby and I found that blogging (which is just a trendy, modern-professional sounding way to say "journaling") was a great way for me to capture memories, commiserate with other moms in the trenches, and keep a sense of humor about the daily grind of motherhood. As you have probably guessed by now, I never launched my counseling career. Spit up is my main fusion accessory, I no longer shower on a daily basis and I haven't slept in three and a half years. More often than not I need a ladder to access the top of my dirty laundry tower, I have yelled, "stop yelling" more times than I care to admit and getting out of the house requires a minor miracle and involves a lot of coffee and  tears. Sometimes the kids are fussy too. Oh, and my SUV was not made by Lexus. 

So this is stay at home motherhood. It is not a glamorous job, my performance reviews are given by a three year old who has called me "a good mommy" and “the meanest mom ever" within the same half hour. I don't get sick days, promotions, or hot coffee but I do get a lot of love, joy, challenges and a daily run for my money (or lack thereof). This blog will give you a glimpse into my pretty ordinary, fairly disorganized, and often humorous life as a stay at home mom. Maybe you will see yourself in some of my posts. After all, we are all figuring it out as we go along, right? Just smile and nod at that poor, disorganized mother rocking in the corner with a cup of cold coffee and a screaming baby. Hey, if you can't relate to my posts you are still welcome to have a laugh at my expense.

Here I am pushing thirty with no earning power and a drawer full of yoga pants that have nothing to do with yoga or any form of exercise unless you count desperately swaying and bouncing a screaming baby while chasing an obstinate preschooler, cooking dinner, and skimming an electronic copy of The Strong Willed Child (which I am reading for a friend, of course). I am a stay at home mom with two kids, two cats, and a traveling husband. I don't even have most of it together but hey, it is on the job training. I may have traded paychecks for pacifiers but I wouldn't have it any other way. I still have dreams of my own, like using the bathroom with less than two people accompanying me, being able to lease a minivan, and telling my husband's boss exactly where he can put the travel schedule. But more about that later. At this point I would come up with a clever ending to my first post, but I have to throw out my cold coffee, try to keep the baby asleep, and pick up Aiden from preschool.