Hi! I'm Denise, the Grocery Store Grump!

**Disclaimer - this post is long as hell, but in my defense, I'm only trying to avoid putting away the groceries. Surely you can feel my pain. But it's funny too, I mean if you have kids, you'll completely understand my new found desire to hire a babysitter for me, the babysitter, while I'm at the grocery store.


Hi! I'm Denise, the Grocery Store Grump!


Yanno, grocery shopping isn't hard when it's just Andy and me. We usually end up getting stalked by some random old lady because were are just.that.damn.cute.

Taking the Baby K and Big K to the grocery store is a completely different story. Baby K throws a 10-minute fit when I place her in the front of the buggy, squirming, kicking, screaming and even producing real tears. Big K wanders off everywhere and I'm chasing her, constantly reminding her that her hand needs to be on the buggy at all times.

Then there's the endless conversation all the way through the store:

"Denise, do we have these at home? What are these? Can we borrow these? Buy, I mean buy, can we buy these. I want salad. Do we have salad at home? You said I get Dora fruity snacks. Where are the Dora fruity snacks? Did you remember we don't have any chocolate milk too? I like chocolate milk. And Dora fruity snacks. What's this? Can I have a plastic bag? I like plastic bags. Can we put meat in the plastic bag again? I like putting meat in there. That's fun. I like pickles too but I don't like pickles. Can we borrow some pickles? I mean, buy. Denise, when do we get to go to McDonald's? You said we could go to McDonald's and get chicken nuggets and french fries at McDonald's when we were done. Denise, will my mom be here in 2 minutes? What are these? Can we borrow... er, buy these? I want some yogret too. I like yogret, but only the Dora kind. I don't like that other kind like we had last time. Look at that little gril. She's got shoes like me. We both have little gril shoes. Not boy shoes. Boys eat bugs. Isn't that right Denise? Boys eat bugs and girls eat candy, right? Can I have some candy Denise? And some Dora fruity snacks?"

Finally, we get to the checkout, after of course the world has oooh'd and ahhh'd the precious kids I've ventured into the public world with. I'm always asked "oh how precious, how old are they?" and I usually respond with a blank look and "I don't know, they aren't mine," which causes all kinds of stares and maybe even secret phone calls the local police department. I've learned that it's much easier to say, "10 months and 3" and continue pushing my buggy.

I realize a lot of moms out there might like to stop and gab to complete strangers about how the growing process is just moving right along, how Sally Jane has pushed 2 new pearly whites through her gums and how Nancy June is the smartest kid in the universe...

But there are also those of us in there, *a-hem* ME, rushing through the store tossing things in the buggy because I've only got a 2 hour window before the precious teething 10 month old, cranky Baby K, is going to blow me a big, fat, runny, mud-kiss through her diaper and the smell isn't going to be pleasant for ANYONE. I've also only got one shred of patience left for Big K, the 3 year old, who is driving me up the wall touching everything in the store, trying to sneak stuff in the buggy, and standing in the middle of each and every aisle trying to poke a hole in the damn plastic bag she got from the produce section, all the while blocking traffic of the other shoppers who desperately want to get by her as fast as they can because someone else is going to beat them to the 2/$1 sale on canned green beans.

Of course I've got to have help getting out to the car because now I've got two buggies filled with groceries (I've never understood how I start with one and after it's bagged it takes up TWO) and two kids in tow. Do they send me out with some young, energetic kid? Hell to the nawl! They send me out with this 90-year-old, broke down, slow as molasses man saying "Lead the way" and I'm just thinking, "Yeah, try and keep up with me gramps!" He was super nice, but slowwwwww! C'mon skipper... any minute now Baby K's butt will explode and I do not want to smell that all the way home!

And woah, the race against time doesn't stop there folks. Then we've got to get to McDamnDonald's and beat the lunch rush to get that kids meal with blazing hot french fries so I've got to hear Big K yapping all the way home about how she really likes fries and they are really too hot and she likes chicken nuggets too but they are probably hot too and did you get me a drink Denise? because I'm super thirsty and I want chocolate milk did you get me chocolate milk from McDonald's? My mama does. Are the fries cooled off yet because I'm super hungry Denise...

We get home. I get the kids out of the car, sit Big K down on the couch with her happy meal b/c I'm going to need the entire kitchen table and all the counters for the shitload of groceries I just bought, get the baby changed, get the groceries in the house, sit down to feed the screaming baby her lunch, plug her with a bottle, set her in the playpen, move my quarter pounder and drink to the quad room where I think I'm going to get to enjoy it, far, far away from the kids... when Big K insists we listen to this stupid CD that was the "toy" in the happy meal.

We listen to the entire CD twice, singing along and dancing in the livingroom, I get her laid down for naptime and go back to the quad room with my food only to realize I'm too pooped to even eat. I want a nap. I don't even care that the fish sticks are melting away and the hamburger meat is probably bleeding through the paper sack. I just want to lay down and pass out. Like a power nap. Yanno, the 20 minute kind where you get up feeling all refreshed and ready to tackle the world again?

And I'm just the babysitter folks! I'll ship these guys off with their mommy at 530ish only to receive 4 more when Andy gets home... and the saga continues.

Even through the exhaustion and the serious lack of patience being one of my virtues, these napless, teething, screaming, kicking, yelling, ankle biting little people are the bestest in the whole wide world. And our four, ranging from 3 to 15, are my pride and joy! I love them with all my heart and soul, and wouldn't trade lives with anyone even if I could.

I'm off to put away the mini-grocery store in my kitchen and hopefully get 20 minutes of power-nap before they scream again. Happy Friday!