Why I shop alone...

I had to take my kids grocery shopping with me today.  Big deal, some of you would say... because you do it every week.  I do not.  I am very blessed that my husband watches them when I go, usually Saturday mornings, sometimes Sunday mornings.  I enjoy this time to myself.  Everyone hates grocery shopping, but I look forward to it.  Until I get the total, but it's good the rest of the time.  I do take the girls to the store sometimes during the week if we run out of something, but it's as quick as I can make it. 

But my husband is on call this week and didn't get home from work until 5am this morning.  So, I thought I would be nice and not wake him up at 9am so that I could get my shopping in before he had to go to work.  I couldn't wait until tomorrow, because we're going to my parents' house for our Thanksgiving dinner and I needed some ingredients for my contributions.  My only option  was to either feed everyone Stove Top instead of real dressing or take the girls to the store.  Considering that I'm the only one who really even cares about dressing, I should have gone that route.  But I really like dressing.

It's not like I think my kids are any worse than anyone else's kids at the store.  I'm sure they're not.  But I'm not used to having to deal with it for the extent of a grocery shopping experience.

Within 5 minutes they were all proclaiming the need to go to the bathroom.  I never know if I should believe them, because Isabelle and Zoe are just obsessed with public restrooms.  We cannot go anywhere without them wanting to go to the bathroom.  Even if they just went.  And sometimes they ask after I've already taken them.  And since we were at Walmart, of course - OF COURSE - the restrooms are where?  Behind the toy department.  With all the reasons there are to complain about shopping at Walmart, this is my biggest one.  They are bastards (pardon my language) for making me drag my kids through the toys to go to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, which, mind you is only about 5 minutes into the trip, I line the girls up and remind them that I will abandon our cart and take them straight home if they can't figure out how to stop running and twirling and skipping and climbing on the cart. 

About halfway through the trip, I have them lined up again by the canned foods, telling them that I will put every single food item they enjoy back on the shelf and they will have to eat saltine crackers all week.

Shortly after that, I text my husband and tell him that he owes me.  He asks why.  Why?  You can tell he's never done this.  I told him I was about to stuff the kids in the freezer case and just go home.  He said OK. 

Near the end, the girls are pretending to be ducks and mentioning that ducks don't wear clothes, which, by this point, I can't tell if they are just making an observation or plotting to be more realistic ducks and strip naked in the dairy section.  They are hanging off of my shirt - literally - and I'm standing by the wine.  I stood there for quite a while, debating.   I don't drink very often, but they had literally driven me to drink.  The only reason I didn't grab a bottle is that I remembered there is some Southern Comfort in the freezer at home. 

Pie making is going to be quite an experience tonight.