Checkout Tears

Have you ever stood behind someone in line at the store and thanked your lucky stars that you were not in their place? Maybe he forgot his wallet or she had a child throwing a nuclear-meltdown-sized tantrum. Maybe it was a little old lady trying to pay for her groceries with Betty Crocker points and not understanding why the checker won't accept them.

Well, yesterday I was that person the people behind me were trying not to look at. "Hey, Walmart sure has nice fluorescent lights. Oh, look, Brad and Jen are getting back together according to the Enquirer, and they've asked George W. Bush to perform their wedding ceremony. No, I don't see that lady falling to pieces in front of me, no, I'm not paying any attention at all."

To give a little background here, it was not a good day to begin with. I'm afraid I've been experiencing a little PMS, and as Terence will be quick to reaffirm, it means I am both irritable and extremely sensitive. Before I even left to go to the grocery store I was feeling pretty blue. Not the best frame of mind ever. But groceries needed to be replenished, so off I went, taking M, B, & K. (J stayed home with Daddy.)

For the most part, the girls were pretty good. However, K was a bit of a problem. He kept reaching behind and grabbing stuff that he then chucked out of the cart. Usually, I noticed in time to retrieve whatever it was, but when he snagged the ceiling fan light bulbs and fired them at the floor, I was not in time to prevent a couple of them from crumbling to pieces in the package. Still, I am an honest person who pays for the stuff my kids destroy, so I picked it up and put it back in the cart. Further on in the shopping trip, he proceeded to gnaw my frozen pie crust into pieces, pull fruit off the stand and stick it in his mouth, and dump a bag upside down until all the pears tumbled out. By the time I reached the checkout lanes, I was miserable and tired and frustrated and I just wanted to go home.

I'm sure you can all relate. But it gets worse.

The lines were pretty long, which is always a recipe for disaster. I had M and B pulling out magazines and asking for treats. And K kept trying to climb out of the cart altogether, so he could reach that fun sweet stuff on the shelves. One of the employees, attempting to make my life less difficult, let me know they were opening another checkout stand and told me they would help me there. So I began the process of lugging the fully loaded cart + three kids down to the new lane. I was too slow. Another lady got there first and started unloading everything, but there was no going back now. Just before I reached it, a guy in the next lane over saw me coming and literally raced back and pushed his cart in front of mine. I had to stop my cart from running right into the side of his. You would think this was bumper car time or something. Since we were practically jammed together (though he was marginally in front) and I was so exhausted, I did something I don't normally do. I spoke up for myself.

In my nicest, but very weary, voice I asked him to please let us go ahead, since the checker had sent us down to this lane specifically. He refused point blank, telling me he had been waiting forever already. So now I had gone from being next in line to being two carts back. It really isn't that big of a deal, but like I said, I was already having a bad day. So I lugged my cart back to the lane we came from, where the lady who had been behind me was now loading her stuff onto the conveyor belt. At this point, I was struggling mightily to keep the tears from flowing. (Just a teensy bit oversensitive, wouldn't you say?) Finally, though, we reached the conveyor belt ourselves. I reached down to grab Terence's soda, and wouldn't you know it, the box split completely open spilling cans everywhere. So now the tears were starting, even though I was trying to hold it together. But while I was picking up the cans came the final straw that broke the proverbial camel's back.

"Um, Ma'am?" the guy behind us in line said hesitantly. "Your son is eating an egg."

Oh, yes. He was indeed eating an egg. Somehow, K had snatched an egg out of a carton, squeezed it to a pulp in his hand, and he was licking the egg off his fingers. In fact, I think he must have smashed more than one egg, because there was a veritable pool of egg yolk on the floor beneath him.

At that point, I lost it. I sobbed, quit literally, through the process of cleaning up the eggs and then loading and paying for my groceries. At least my checker, the front end manager who went to get me more eggs, light bulbs & soda, as well as the girl in front of me who helped me gather up all the dented soda cans, were extremely kind to me, even though I was an utter wreck by the end.

Ah, the joys of shopping. I think on future PMS days I will leave the toddler at home. Or better yet, maybe I should skip the shopping trips altogether, even if we have to eat food storage. Yes, that might be best after all.