Code Brown and the Grocery Gods of Doom
For whatever reason, the grocery gods do not like me very much. When my husband was away on TDY (Temporary Duty Assignment or away temporarily for official Army business, for short) last month, I had to take ALL.SIX.KIDS. grocery shopping by myself for those four weeks. That was indeed a special place in hell I hope to not visit again anytime soon. Today, we had a grocery emergency in which we ran out of wipes. With two children still in diapers, I’m sure you can appreciate the true nature of this emergency. It was a Code Brown, as it were. Ahem.
Imagine the look on my face as I reach in for the very last wipe, calling out to one of my (many) kids to grab me a new package, only for them to return wipe-less with the horrible news, there was no wipe-back-up for me, I was flying solo with a couple of napkins and my faucet unless I went to the store. Yikes!
I ever-so-quickly stacked my kids into the car like Ihop does with a plate of pancakes and arrived at the store in about 2.4 seconds flat (I kid, they were all buckled appropriately and I did not speed. Much). The parking lot was atrociously busy, and it was right then when it occurred to me - it was pay day. Everyone and their mother shops the commissary on pay day. Crap. I had to face the truth - I would have to navigate all six freakin’ kids through that ridiculously busy store, but it had to be done, it was a Code Brown, after all.
We were successful, albeit exhausted, having to suck-it-in, squeeze and scrape through this person and that cart. My poor kids schlepped alongside, doing their best to not get run over by the mad dash of commissary shoppers stockpiling til next payday. It didn’t help that there were eleventy-billion deliveries happening alongside the myriad of shoppers, too.
(I mean, what kind of dumb must you be as the manager to schedule deliveries on pay day of all days?)
(Oh.. yeah.. the same kind-of dumb I am for having to bring my six kids shopping this day of all days, too.)
(I suppose it serves me right for not ensuring we had enough wipes to begin with.)
(Alright, Grocery Gods of Doom™, I hear ya loud and clear.)
