I usually shop for food in the morning when the kids are still friendly and semi-human. But circumstances changed today, and I’m left anticipating a trip to the grocery store as soon as Seabass and Sweet Chuck awake from their naps.
Big deal, right? No, not right. So horribly, spectacularly not right.
Parenting is often an “if, then” equation. If a street sweeping truck rolls past our house, then Seabass will require that we watch it together on the sidewalk. If I let Sweet Chuck fall asleep in the car during errands, then she won’t sleep in her crib the rest of the day. And if I take the kids grocery shopping in the afternoon, then I will most certainly die. Of spontaneous brain explosion.
Seabass will whine about having to get in the car, then in the car seat, then out of the car seat, then out of the car, then in the cart, then out of the cart, then in the car, then in the car seat, then out of the car, then in the house. Sweet Chuck will flash her pooping face right around the time we enter Trader Joe’s. The store will be offering free samples of something like spaghetti and meatballs, which Seabass will almost certainly eat with his hands. There will be a magnificent snot streak on my shoulder when I run into someone important like, say, my boss. And I’ll probably buy too much booze.
Wish me luck. And watch the headlines tomorrow.