The First (and Last) Time I Took a Toddler and an Infant to the Grocery Store By Myself

So I am a bad mom: I take my newborns out in public WAY before the recommended time.  I mean seriously, am I really supposed to not leave my house for six whole weeks?  I guess I could leave the kids with my nanny, let my housekeeper clean and do the laundry, and that way I'd be able to drive my Mercedes to the grocery store in childless peace.  Come on, people, why do you think we bought the minivan??

So one weekend when Samantha was about 3 weeks old, we were borderline desperate for groceries.  I knew I would end up in cardiac arrest if I took all three kids along, so I called my parents and begged them to come watch Jack and Ellie for an hour while I took Samantha with me to the store.  As I was about to leave, Jack completely melted down and wanted to come with me.  I figured, hey--he's three, he can walk, he likes the grocery store, he likes to help mommy, it'd only be TWO kids--no problem!  So into the car the three of us piled, leaving a very happy Ellie with two doting grandparents.

So things were going fairly well at the store; Samantha's car seat took up almost the entire cart basket, of course, and the massive diaper bag (but my oh-so-favorite one) took up the entire seat, so Jack and I had to tuck the groceries around Samantha's seat while she slept.  After a few aisles I looked down and noticed a few items in my cart that I had not put there.  Ahem.  But, no biggie--I was able to put them back and we were on our merry way.

But then Samantha started crying.  And not just crying, screaming bloody murder.  It took me about five minutes to get her untangled from the car seat straps, as newborns tend to pull all limbs to their body when they are screaming their heads off.  I finally got her out, and she settled down as I held her and tried to push the cart AND corral my wandering toddler.  What a sight that must have been.

Unfortunately one of the items on my list was "Father's Day cards," and not just for my dad or for Eric, but for my father-in-law as well (sorry Marc, we still haven't sent it!!).  It was NOT smart to even attempt this with a curious three-year-old, but I did anyway; stood there reading cards and trying to find the appropriate messages for the appropriate audiences...card for Eric from me, card for Eric from kids.  Card for Papa from kids, card for Dad from me.  Card for Eric's dad from Eric...and so on.  While I was frantically doing my perusing, Jack was pulling cards off the shelf, oohing and ahhing over this and that..."Oooh, Mommy, flowers/doggies/cake/ELMO!!" 

Not wanting to end up spending $80 for ripped or damaged greeting cards I finally decided to give up since I was spending more time putting Jack's cards BACK then I was looking for the ones I needed.  As I began replacing cards, I heard Jack say, "Uh-oh!" and turned around to find him pointing at the ceiling...he had pulled a couple balloons from the balloon case and let them go, sending them to certain slow death at the top of the warehouse-like ceiling.  Okay.  Time to leave the card aisle.  I was beginning to sweat and there was a spot in the middle of my back that was beginning to tingle from holding Samantha in one arm for so long...

We finished the rest of our shopping fairly uneventfully.  Jack only ran off once, he obeyed very well, and was even helpful (as much as a toddler can be).

But then came the check-out aisle.  Full of candy right at little people's height.  My Curious George began rearranging candy and trying to stick them in his pockets.  At this point I was still holding Samantha, trying to bend and retrieve all the items from the cart that were packed around her car seat, trying to keep the WIC items separated out, trying to keep my son from stealing candy, and beginning to sweat even more. 

Then came the "Uh-oh" and looking down I noticed Jack had opened one of those Bubble Tape containers, and as if in slow-mo I watched him take out the roll of gum and roll the entire thing out onto the floor with a big "Oooooooo!" 

"Jack!" I said.  "Now Mommy will have to pay for that because you opened it!  Please put it on the counter and keep your hands off the candy."  With his chubby little fingers he ran ahead and gathered up the string of gum, wadded it up into a big ball, and stuffed it back into the container.  Good Lord.

The other major headache about this grocery store is that it's a bag-your-own type place.  Which Jack loves.  And I hate.  So as I'm standing at the check-out trying to work out some problem with our WIC coupons, Jack was thrilled to pieces to be bagging groceries all by himself.   Not mention he got to push the button that makes the conveyor belt run, and consequently piled up all the groceries at the end.  I was starting to have a major headache and the throbbing in my back was almost all I could think about.  We finally figured out the problem with the coupons and I paid for our stuff and raced down to the end to stop Jack from loading the cans of corn and green beans on top of the bread and grapes. 

I have come to believe bagging groceries is an art.  Perhaps I'm just a little too Monica Gellar about it, but I am one of those people who sorts their groceries and puts them on the conveyor belt in a very specific, organized way:  all of the fresh foods together, frozen foods, dairy products, meats, boxed items, baby items, toiletries, and so on.  That way, they can be bagged together, so when I get home I'm not emptying bags that contain apples, tampons, baby wipes, and sandwich meat.  So after having to bag my own groceries for awhile now I have come to appreciate those who do it for a living and do it so well.

I know.  I'm crazy.  And if I had lower standards I'm sure the stress of Jack "helping" me bag wouldn't be so, well, stressful.  I think it's that he bags so fast.  And he puts two items in a bag and then opens up the next bag.  And he throws jars of baby food at the bottoms of bags and breaks them.  DEEP SIGH.  This is one of the most highly stressful parts of our grocery trips when Eric is with me.  So you can just imagine having to do it by myself.  (Sidenote: while bagging the groceries I discovered about four items that I apparently had paid for that I had not put in the cart myself, among them some Gerber snacks and some odd-flavored tuna pack.  Apparently I was so absent-minded while unloading the cart that I didn't notice until after I had paid for them...)

As I drove home from the store, my back aching and my eyes about to brim over with tears, I swore I would never do this again by myself.  No way, no how.  Too, too much.

I got home, unloaded groceries, and began recounting the experience to my parents.  I got towards the end of my story and as I shared with them the Bubble Tape disaster, I began searching through the bags looking for the gum so I could toss it out.  As I pulled it out, I stopped short and stared in horror.

In my hand was a brand-new, UNOPENED container of hot pink Bubble Tape.  But...wait...what?  How...noooo.  Jackson Thomas!!

And then I just started laughing uncontrollably.

Epilogue:

I have since taken all three kids to the store by myself and survived.  I know.  I should make a t-shirt.