I have learned to cope with most of my disabilities. Parallel parking is an easy one to adapt to--just find another spot, even if that spot is miles away. I've tried to adapt to my inability to correctly operate a xerox machine by avoidance. The last time I had to make copies, Parker was in kindergarten, and I was volunteering in his classroom.
Parker's teacher: "Could you make some copies for me?"
Me (beginning to sweat): "I'm slightly disabled when it comes to making copies."
Parker's teacher, laughing hands me the paper to copy. "This is easy."
Frowning, I take the paper. I return twenty minutes later, holding the solitary paper. "Here you go. I broke the machine."
I'm pretty good at avoiding parallel parking and making copies, but I have yet to figure out how to avoid grocery shopping. No one has stopped eating in my family, and it's kind of annoying. As I push the super-sized, kid-friendly cart that allows me to push all three kids and towering cart of groceries through the store, I enviously look at the people pushing their tiny carts with a handful of groceries through the store. I bet it only takes them thirty minutes to shop, and they spend under $50. It takes me two hours every single time, with or without children. I cannot understand why. I cannot understand how despite my couponing it always costs me a bazillion dollars. I cannot understand how my cart full of groceries will be consumed in three days. I am retarded when it comes to grocery shopping.
So today as I pushed my mammoth cart through the store, Deacon decided to jump off and stand in the middle of the aisle, completely blocking an elderly couple from moving. "Deacon, move out of the way, kiddo," I said, as I tried to shove the produce I had in my hand into a bag. Of course, no movement occurred. "Come on, move it." He stared at me. "Parker, move him." Parker picked him up, and Deacon was vocally unhappy about it.
This sweet-looking old woman turned to speak to her husband. I expected some comment about "how quickly they grow up" or "remember when ours were this tiny," so I was quite surprised by her comment. In a sarcastic voice she said, "Let's have more children."
Ha! For the rest of the shopping trip whenever I felt my patience ebbing, I thought of that little old lady and smiled. It helped ease the pain of my grocery shopping disorder. At least for this trip.
2 comments:
I think...she meant it in a nice way!
I'm going to be that kind of old woman when I grow up.
I HATE those gigantic grocery carts and the way they completley overpower you while you're using every muscle in your body to turn the stupid thing around the corner, then the groceries overflow and spill into the aisle. Oh, the JOYS of grocery shopping-then you add the stress of having to keep track of kids that are too easily distracted. I learned the hard way to just grocery shop whitout kids, it's MUCH easier! But, if you figure out a way to avoid it all togeher, I'd LOVE to hear about it!
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