I'm desperately trying to delay the inevitable but I know it all too well-it is time. Our shelves are bare and I'm debating whether to make some rice with ketchup or pina colda mix since those are the only ingredients we have on hand. It is time to do the chore I hate most-grocery shopping. Being told to go grocery shopping is like when you're working and the manager tells you they just kicked a hobo out of the customer washroom and get your gloves because you better go check it out. Yes grocery shopping, it seems like no matter how much food we buy we always end up eating it. I'm seriously thinking we should pick up an eating disorder to cut back on the amount of times we have to do it. Grocery shopping makes anything else seem enjoyable. When I need to get a cavity filled, I think I will go grocery shopping first so I have something to look forward to afterwards.
Back in the day when I was single, grocery shopping was so much simpler. Well, since I'm being perfectly honest I lived at home until I was 25 so most of my grocery shopping was at my mom's pantry. Actually scratch that, a bulk of my grocery shopping is STILL done at my mom's pantry (I have no idea why your Costco bill is so high mom and if you're reading this please disregard the above paragraph...). However I still did some grocery shopping on my own, mostly because my mom didn't buy the foods a refined palate such as mine required-such as cookie crisp cereal, redbull and Doritos. When I did go grocery shopping it was almost a novelty, it would take me under 10minutes to grab the fixings for mac and cheese and instant noodles. I would laugh at the worn down looking mom pushing a mammoth cart with a screaming toddler hanging from her ankle as I skipped down to the cashier and paid for my diet cola and cookie dough.
Those days are long gone. Grocery shopping has now mutated into a biweekly (if I can help it) ritual of torture. Now we're feeding 3 people and I'm head of the feed-everyone-make-everyone-happy committee. I not only have to cook the meals that are different and exciting but make sure that my family is not surviving off ketchup packages. Let me explain the process...
Before I can even step into the store I have to do the list. The premise is quite simple, when you're running low on an item, you add it to the list conveniently located on the fridge. The list is a great way to remain organized and it ensures you're never standing in the frozen food section muttering "need more frozen pizza". In theory it works wonders, in theory. In practice it is a complete work of fiction made up of items you wish you had in your fridge during the midnight snack hour. I never keep it updated and if I run out of something I end up promising myself I'll remember to add it to the list later (which is never conveniently on the fridge like it is suppose to be care of Lily). As you can guess the items never make it to the list and I end up winging it which is why there are currently 10 bottles of BBQ sauce in our fridge. For some unexplainable reason I think we are forever out of BBQ sauce. Dave also has a bad habit of taking the last of something and leaving the empty container in the pantry. Which means that unless I open the box and do a count I never know for sure if we're out or running low. Sometimes I do practice what I preach and compile a beautiful supply list. However this list is almost always forgotten and I end up scribbling what I can remember on a crumpled up napkin on my way to the grocery store to buy some more BBQ sauce since surely we must be out. On weeks I'm feeling really energized I compile a dinner meal plan. The meal plan consists of me trying to get Dave to suggest meals he wants other than the standard "something good" and "whatever" fare (which he demands every week). It also is suppose to help cut the grocery bill because you're only buying what you need, avoiding waste. However it doesn't take in account the nights we say "screw this" and order pizza letting our good intentions go moldy at the bottom of the vegetable crisper.
Next step is actually getting to the store. Preferably on a Sunday (the busiest time), at night and when the kids are the most cranky or tired. If you can't make it for Sunday our second choice appears to be Wedensday, the day before restocking so the produce is nice and spongy and the store looks like it was hit by a hurricane and then backed over by a B.A.T for good measure. I have tried very hard to find the sweet spot to go grocery shopping. Seriously it is a formula more complex then a quadraic equation. It goes something like this:
- 2 Kids (wellfed+good mood) + grocery shop (quiet+sales/anyday but Sunday or Wednesday)+daytime=stress free experience
- 2 kids (tired+cranky*hyper)+just before bedtime+ Sunday (store busy+produce rotten+out of stock)-sanity-patience=Typical shopping experience
Now grocery shopping is a family event. Mostly because Dave has to be there to use his discount card and he also is the driver. I tag along because if he went alone he'd return with ice cream, a loaf of bread and BBQ sauce because surely this time we must be out. The kids come along because the government looks down at leaving them at the apartment under the watchful eye of the cat with a bowl of water on the ground and the TV on. The problem with Dave coming along is he increases the price of our grocery bill. I'm cheap, I'll buy just the basics, but Dave will go all crazy and buy things like strawberries. Seriously I have to audit what goes in our cart. Strawberries? I hope you're working overtime this week! Now you didn't forget about the children did you? Don't think they're little cherubs sitting in the cart with their hands in their lap. Lily is watching everything going into the cart and demanding a bite then freaking out when you try to explain the criminal code and why we can't just eat something without paying for it. When she's not trying to open a package she's dumping items out of the cart making this whole exercise counterproductive. She also likes to try to launch herself out of the cart or grab things as we pass by laughing hysteically as she toppels a row of canned tomatos. Joe is will usually sleep through most of the trip only to snap away when we get to the cashir and demand to be fed resulting in me bagging my groceries with one hand. If you don't submit to Joe's first cry he will start yelling in a pitch only heard by the CPS. By the time the whole ordeal is over with, we are so exhausted and fed up. I'll never forget the time we were done bagging up everything and just about to leave and Lily tossed a container of cottage cheese on the ground and it exploded everywhere.
Because we avoid grocery shopping like the plague and only do it when the only things left are a moldy apple and BBQ sauce, we usually have a ton of groceries. We'll fill an entire cart up and the bucket of our stroller. When it's time to pay it will be above $200. I am always shocked and demand Dave to explain what he bought that was so expensive because surely there is an unauthorized purchase in there somewhere...We take our cart which looks like we're stocking up for the rapture and cram it into our BAT which for once in its life is too small to fit everything, I end up having to sit in the middle of the front seat redneck style all the way home with a stack of frozen pizza in my lap. Now for the worst part-getting it upstairs. Yes we have to carry everything across the parkcade, up the elevator down the hallway-with two now ballistic children singing "are we there yet" in scream-minor. Two trips you say? While the smart thing to do. We end up loading our stroller and trying to carry as much as we can possible lift and pleading with Lily to please hurry up and not push the elevator help buttons. We then get through the door only to realize that we forgot to by milk, the main reason why we went to begin with.
As you can see I'm sitting here trying to think of all the many excuses not to go today. I think I need to phone the dentist, I may have some teeth he needs to drill out....
This is so my experience minus one kid, so you have it worse!! But we are mommies: aka superwomen. Apparently we can do it all!
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