I stared into the fridge, then the cupboards, and scrounged up the following dinner for Adelaide and myself:
Adelaide - a who-knows-how-old Hot Pocket from the back recesses of the freezer, which she didn't touch
- hummus, which she sucked off of crackers left soggy and uneaten
- a cup of yogurt
- Levi's juice boxes that we're supposed to have on hand for low blood sugars
Me - crackers and hummus
- a yogurt
It was time for a proper grocery run, not just the regular ones where Jed or I have recently run into the store on the way home to pick up "just the basics."
So Saturday morning, Roxie and I loaded up and hit the town to knock out some errands. We managed Once Upon a Child, then I had to nurse Rox in the parking lot. I parked in the farthest row, but I am not exaggerating when I say that, while other cars remained quietly unoccupied in their spots the entire time, the spots to the direct left and right of me were like revolving doors with almost exclusively male drivers coming to pick up their wives/girlfriends/female companions from Once Upon a Child. If Roxie had been my first, I would've been mortified and stressed out. Fortunately, I no longer care.
Then we managed a Walmart run to spend a thousand dollars on diapers in all sizes and nursing essentials.
Then Roxie began to fall apart. I was 10 seconds from the grocery store. Should I push it and go in? Or should I just go home, put her down for a real nap, and head back to the store, which would put me back home just in time for dinner and night-nights?
Roxie was suddenly quiet in the car, so I took my chances. I decided to push it.
Weeeeeeeeell. She slept through 3/4 of the grocery trip, but when she awakened, whoa, Nelly. There was the quivering lip, the bright redness of the countenance, the spitting cough, the angry eyes, the sheer VOLUME of shrieking. I was swinging her from her carseat in one arm (I was not about to take her out of it when she was sleeping so well), and power walking through the store, pulling my cart behind me with the other. I have to say I got nothing but compassionate and knowing glances, but I still felt bad. Tiny or not, her super-tired-and-mad cry can be grating.
When I finally rounded the corner at top speed to the check-outs, there were only two lanes open, and they each had lines of people with full carts. All the sudden, the store kicked into mega-overdrive. Another cashier ran to place, flipped on her light, and waved a group of people her way. I started unloading my cart, one. item. at. a. time. with the one hand while I swung the carseat like no tomorrow with the other. One item on the belt. Another item on the belt. Swing, swing, shhhhh, shhhh. One more item. So the lady behind me finally offered to help and just started dumping armloads of my stuff up there. The lady in front of me was wheeling away and turned to offer any help. I smiled and said no, then I joked that I actually needed lots of help, and everyone in a 25-foot radius laughed, causing me to look up and realize that everyone in the store was staring at the lady with the screaming infant. That is, me.
So I laughed and shrugged and said, "All hands on deck," and the mood lightened, then a manager ran over to help bag my groceries, then another manager called out, "Jacob! Come help this lady to her car," then under her breath, "and unload the cart for her." So sweet!
But I was a touch mortified that I exuded that much neediness that I warranted the mobilization of an entire grocery staff and all manner of shoppers to get through this very basic errand.
As I was paying and thanking Yahweh that I didn't have Levi and Adelaide with me, a lady came running up, waving a tiny sock: "Is this yours?"
I knew that it was. I had noticed just after the screeching started that one tiny foot peeked out from under Roxie's blanket sans sock. I made a decision then as I huffed and puffed and swung and pulled my way to the lunch meat that the sock would be a casualty of this day's mission.
But after all was said and done, we had summer clothes for the girls, all the baby/toddler paraphernalia that was running low, real food, and both of Roxie's socks, the last of which might be the greatest miracle of all. Plus we had sunshine and warm temps the whole time, and we wouldn't be eating spoonfuls of hummus for dinner.
Regardless of the grocery store craziness, I returned home refreshed from the outing and with that wonderfully satisfied feeling of having gotten a ton done.
But would it have been the same with all three kids? I don't know, but let's not push it! We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, or if we can finagle our schedules just so, not at all. ;)
