Grocery Adventures

Most weeks, my husband and I have grocery hauls down to a fine art, but this week, the universe had other plans. With a weekend that felt like a kid-fueled circus, we bravely attempted a grocery run on a workday. After clocking out, my husband and I found our stomachs growling, so we made a pit stop for dinner before heading to Lowe’s grocery store.

Dinner was a theatrical masterpiece starring Ted, who decided it was a Michelin-star experience to lick butter off bread and suck dipping sauce off fries, leaving a smashed potato crime scene in his wake. And let’s not forget the grand finale—Ted belting out a scream concert every time Dad dared check his phone.

Then there was Remy, who, after a milk explosion on my shoulder, voiced his displeasure loudly every time I tried to set him in his car seat. So, I surrendered to the chaos and embraced the art of eating with one hand.

As we finally retreated to the car, Ted delivered a blowout—of the aromatic variety. Cue a sprint to the store entrance with the little one strapped to my chest and a quick game of parental tag initiating between my husband and me. But the punchline? The men’s room was undergoing divine intervention, aka cleaning. My husband, with a grin, said, “I guess it’s God’s will,” nearly causing my demise.

So, I took the reins, adeptly changing Ted’s diaper with Remy still doing his best opera singer impression strapped to my chest. Once the scene was cleaned up, Ted joyfully hopped into one of the little car grocery carts, and our shopping expedition became surprisingly smooth.

Feeling victorious, we waltzed back to the car as if we’d conquered Everest, only to glance at the time and—bam—realize it was already 7:30! Seriously, how do the days zoom by faster than a toddler when you’re trying to catch them?