This weekend was a unique turning point in my life, however, and I think I might avoid the grocery store as much as possible from now on. Wait, like, I mean, make more of an effort to only go to the grocery store once or twice (max!) a week.
See, on Saturday, we needed to go to the grocery store because we were invited over to a friends' home for dinner. I offered to bring something, which I had good intentions of actually doing, but the reality of fulfilling my offer was going to require a trip to Ye Olde Grocers. Stat.
I took Kiddo#2 with me because I'm trying to like, engage him in cooking. His life goal right now seems to be consuming food, so I figure if I teach him to fish, I won't have to spend my entire fricking life inventing meals to feed his quenchless stomach.
Or something like that.
Anyway, we pulled up to the grocery store, and he skipped ahead to get a cart. He raced it around the corner and ran over my heels. Rage flashed in my eyes, but I decided not to pick him up and Hulk Smash him into oblivion.
I'm not sure why I was so benevolent; perhaps it was the coffee in my hand and the caffeine in my bloodstream, perhaps it was that I'd just awoken from a nice Saturday nap so I had more mercy than usual, but my son was neither launched to Mars, nor ripped from the driver's position on the cart.
We started down he produce section, picking up some good stuff here and there when Kiddo #2 said "What if the thing Pyper wants for her birthday is in the toy section?" So, I thought we'd head over to the toys to placate my son and also allow me to peruse the clothing section since my kids are both 2 inches taller than they were before the sun returned to Canada this week.
We stopped by (insert some crazy toy that I won't buy because it's literally $35 and made of plastic) and ran into a friend I hadn't seen in a very long time. We started to catch up when my son decided to drive the cart up and down some aisles nearby to fill the time. Somewhere between "I can't believe how big your daughter is now!" and "I'm an artist! I know, crazy and cool right?" it occurred to me that Kiddo #2 hadn't come down our aisle in several minutes. Possibly 10.
The normal mother would panic that someone had not only stolen her child, but all her friggin' groceries too... I, instead, slowly walked the store. Every slow-turning cart was anticipated and scorned when it was only some oldster who didn't know how to drive anymore.
As I was about to give up on finding him, I ran back into that friend. I jokingly said "I'm sure he's being detained for trying to finish shopping without a grown-up." when "We have a Code Adam. A Code Adam. Looking for a... uh, ... woman? Black top, jeans, black and teal hair and sparkle shoes."
Jayzus Cripes.
Doing a much faster and older version of the walk of shame, (and this time without having my panties in my pocket) I walked to customer service. There he was. Kiddo #2, with our full cart of groceries (including some he'd picked up because he knew we needed them, and surprisingly there wasn't even one package of Oreos in the cart?!).
Kiddo #2.
Full grocery cart.
Standing with a check-out lady who was judging me as though my panties really were in my pocket and it was 5am...
I inhaled deeply and smiled. With a sing-song voice, I called over "Oh Kiddo #2! You are so independent!"
If the entire cast of Annie had appeared singing "Hard Knock Life" it would have been only slightly less awkward.
Check-out Lady: Oh! You must be the teal-haired mother!
Me: (smiling and trying to look like they didn't need to call CAS) Yes.
CoL: He tried to check out but he said he didn't have your points card...
Me: Ha! Oh, Kiddo #2! You know we're working on saving enough points to buy the store! hahaha
CoL: I thought I would have him wait here. For you.
Me: Well, thank you!
CoL: It's just that most 5-year olds aren't doing the grocery shopping.
Me: Well, we're highly evolved in my house. I'm training him to be the next Wolverine.
CoL: And he has your cell phone.
Me: Yes, I figured that out when I tried to call him on it.
CoL: Well kids are so wonderful. It would be a shame to ...
Me: I know! I agree! I think he's the bees' knees! I am as surprised by this as you are, let me tell you.
CoL: ...it's just that we've never had to call a Code Adam on a ... mother ... before...
Kiddo#2: So do you have your points card ready or what Mom?
I checked out as quickly as I could while joking and using big words to try and redeem myself. Also I told her my name was Regina Philangi, so that will likely help. I called Kiddo #2 Frank Jr. Jr. and Chandler, randomly, to make it seem like maybe he was one of the triplets Phoebe had on the 100th episode of Friends. It would be just vague enough a memory that it could be real, right?
We got the gift card for the movies (which is turning into our standard birthday gift, randomly, because I hate giving STUFF to kids anymore) and left. We dropped Kiddo #2 off at his birthday party and I made a delicious fruit salad for the dinner party thing, with the perfectly ripe fruit Kiddo #2 had chosen while he finished our grocery shopping. So much winning!
Then today, I picked up Kiddo #1 from a playdate (do kids have playdates at age 8? or is it just like, playing?) and realized we had nothing in the fridge for lunches for Monday.
 |
| "I hate all the things." |
In retrospect, I should've suspected something was up by the way she sat with her arms folded across her chest and a "I hate all the things" look on her face.
We got out of the car, got a cart. Once we had just enough items in the cart that I couldn't just abandon ship and flee the store, pretending she hadn't said anything, Kiddo #1 said "Mom. I just feel so BAD about all the animals that have to DIE so we can eat."
Jayzus Cripes.
Fuck you, grocery store
Me: Oh?
Kiddo #1: It's just like, that these animals live these lives and then one day, they're killed just to make food for us.
Me: Ok.
Kiddo #1: Well, it's not fair. And it's probably gross.
Me: Ok.
Kiddo #1: I mean, like, look at this wall of like, meat. It's really big and like, animals had to die to get here.
Me: Yes. That's what happened to the animals that are in here.
Kiddo #1: I mean, like, what about the babies? Like, who raises the babies?
Me: (truly trying to decide whether this is the right time to pull up Fast Food Nation/The Jungle on my phone, or whether this can wait until like, NOT TODAY.) Well, I guess it depends on the animal.
Kiddo #1: I think we shouldn' t eat meat anymore.
Me: Remember when we didn't eat meat? It was a good time. We were vegan for almost a year.
Kiddo #1: I remember that.
Me: Well, the treatment of the animals was part of the reason we did that.
Kiddo #1: ... Don't forget we need cheese.
Me: (pause) ... well, if you're really thinking of not doing meat... then we should probably not to cheese either.
Kiddo#1: Why not?
Me: Well, because you know how when a woman has a baby and makes milk for the baby?
Kiddo #1: Yeah. But that's ok because she's making it.
Me: Well, it's kinda not like that. They take the baby cow away from its mother sometimes, and just make the mom make milk forever.
Kiddo #1: Well that doesn't make sense! Who feeds the baby?
Me: Well... uh, they usually kill the baby.
Kiddo #1: Good GOD WHY?
Me: Well, uh, for us to eat.
Kiddo #1: Ooooooh. Oh that is HORRIFIC.
I take that back, apparently today WAS the day.
I know there were people in the store who probably wanted to throttle me: like the meat farmers and the dairy farmers and the food pyramid propagandists, and the vegans probably were cheering, and the vegetarians were grumbling and ... but I guess I wanted her to understand stuff. I didn't quite get into the meat-butchering process with her (I'm not ready for that, frankly), and we did buy cheese.
And tonight for dinner, she decided not to eat the grass-fed, organic, rainbow magic meat we had. Instead I had to make her crepes. Vegan crepes, and they were as delish as I remembered them.
They'll be more delicious when she learns how to make them herself, but that's a whole other trip to the grocery store.
Jayzus Cripes.
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