No longer THAT mom, but about THAT crazy lady, at the grocery store.

If given the choice ten years ago: I would rather push an old-fashioned reel lawn mower through a field of sticky balls...barefoot...than spend half the day dodging other shopping carts at the supermarket, while simultaneously attempting to put ALL the stuff my kids threw into OUR cart...accidentally on purpose...back on the shelf.

Now that my kids are older? I still hate...Hate...HAte...HATe...HATE food shopping. Unless I am with my husband (date night at the supermarket, FTW!) and most especially if I happen to be shopping with one of my teenagers.

"Are you Facebooking, again?!?"

"Maaaaaaaaaybeeeeeeeee?"

The kids were off on Friday (the winter daze have sort of melded together, I forget why) so I asked my son to go food shopping with me (he lives with 3 sisters, enough said!) and, now that he's getting older (me too, DAMMIT!) I'm beginning to realize that not ONLY is my son the spitting image of GarthNHRN, the kid rolls his eyes at me....just like his dad...too.

"Put your phone away, Mom!"

Long story, short: raising teenagers can be sort of fun, sometimes.

"Can you load the conveyor belt, while I go ahead and bag?"

Aaaaaand, very rarely...like in, almost never...do we experience any drama at the check-out line, unless I'm shopping with my youngest (who NEVER seems to have ANY gum in her pocket, because I am the meanest mom EVER) and especially if:

The store you normally shop in is wicked-busy
So you head to the one across the street
Where there are only two cash registers open EVER (don'tcha HATE that?!?)
And you happen to pick the teenage cashier with an attitude
(see previous parenthesis)
Who clearly heard "I'll go ahead and bag"
As "You just go ahead and scan ALL that stuff, REAL FAST" dammit!

Because, of course!

"Gah...the bread...the eggs...GAH!!!"

I don't do ANYTHING, real fast...but I do tend to drop stuff, OFTEN...especially when I'm expected to do stuff...REAL FAST!!!

Oh, and shopping bags that tend to tear...REAL FAST...do NOT help.

KABOOM!!! WHOOSH!!!

And hollering at your 15yo son, after YOU were the one who just dropped AND spilled an entire bottle of juice...most definitely does NOT help...NOT ONE BIT.

"Don't just stand there, PICK IT UP!!!"

In my defense, it was an expensive bottle of juice that happened to be on sale...dammit...but my poor son was clearly too embarrassed to acknowledge that...you know...he was actually shopping with me...and NO!!!...I do NOT blame him...but would you believe that the cashier just stood there and watched it GLUG-GLUG-GLUG all over the floor.

Okay, I lied. She crossed her arms and then started popping her gum.

"Clean up at register 2!!!"

Good thing this was NOT my first rodeo...or juice spilling, for that matter...oh, and I was wearing my glasses, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to holler out which aisle was now drowning in juice...REAL FAST.

"DAMMIT!!!"

Now, to keep the rest of this blog post short and sweet, here's the bulleted version of what happened next:

I picked up the almost-empty juice bottle
And then dropped it again
Because, wet juice bottle
And then kicked the now even-more-empty bottle of juice
Creating two rivers of juice
So I asked my son to move the shopping cart closer
Okay...fine...some SCREAMING may have been involved
While he calmly continued to load the belt
And tried NOT to slip on the river of juice
That had now formed between us
But he forgot about the second river of juice
And did a real crazy side-step
Because he is almost 7 feet tall
Or something
And kicked over the even-more-empty bottle of juice
Which then spilled, again
Creating a friggin' ocean of juice
With the juice bottle cap floating right in the middle
So I bent over to pick it up, because that is a law suit just waiting to happen
But I kicked the cap
Which then ricocheted off the now empty bottle of juice
And slid across the floor
Right into the bank kiosk
Which caused the woman
Who was woman-ing the bank kiosk
To laugh, hysterically
And then start to look for a camera
Insisting that my son and I were punking the store
Or something
Because NOTHING like this EVER happens
Not in real life, anyways
And this is when the cashier started bagging stuff
Because she wanted us to get out of there, REAL FAST, too!

Aaaaaaand then we left, end scene. The real kicker to this story?!? One of the reasons why I even bothered to stop at this particular store, in the first place?!? Was because...

...wait...

...for...

...it...

...their juice was on sale.

[rolling eyes, like a GarthNHRN]

Thinking on it some more, we never DID get out replacement bottle of juice, which also means we paid double the price, for one bottle of juice, dammit.

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Stupid food shopping, dumbass easy-tearing plastic bags.

Posted in Glen, It's not the years, HONEY - it's the mileage!, Raising Teens, Tweens & Killer Dust Bunnies | Permalink | 0 comments