Walmart With Toddler, in Pictures

I knew it was going to be a rough day when Abigail got ahold of my shopping list and immediately stuck it into her mouth, tore off a piece, chewed it up, and spit it onto the floor. All this happened in a matter of moments while I grabbed a bag of bagels for the four (yes, 4!) teenage girls that will be staying with us for the next three weeks.
Since when are her arms long enough to grab things out of the cart while she's strapped into her seat?


So, I'm walking by the candy aisle when I start thinking I'm smelling puke. No, wait, that's not quite it, but it's bringing up olfactory memories of having the flu. I literally stop and look all around me, trying to figure out what it is. I pinpoint the scent-reference: It's Pepto-Bismol. But there is none of the pink stuff in the candy aisle. It's really bugging me that I can't figure this out, so I literally walk slowly down the aisle smelling for the culprit. (If anyone was watching me leaning into the shelves to sniff the packages, I'm sure they thought I was nuts.)
Lo and behold, I found the impostor: Wint-o-green Life Savers. I will never be able to eat them again. (Not that I ever did in the first place, but NOW - ugh, queasy just thinking about it.) Don't believe me? Go get some and smell for yourself. I'm tellin' ya Pepto smell = Wint-o-green smell.


Obviously, the shopping list was not the only victim of Abigail's rampant teething tirade. Poor box-o-Eggos got snagged while I was reaching into the freezer for some juice concentrate.


When baby gets fussy, I start acting like the cart is some kind of carnival ride. Wheeeeee! We're driving like a race car! Wheeeeee! Mommy's standing on the bottom rack and rolling with you! Wheeeee! (Yeah, strangers are really starting to look at me now - but at least it keeps Abigail from screaming like a banshee because She. Wants. OUT. NOW! Notice that in this picture there are no hands on the handle of the cart. Abigail is rolling freely down the aisle, with physical control of the cart completely relinquished to the forces of gravity, momentum, and the crazy wheel that won't go straight. This is the height of fun, people. She could cruise like that for hours. Her big smile is so cute, it almost made me forget that shopping with a toddler is work. Almost... But alas, we must go check out. And just when we were having so much fun.


Checking out is pretty much always a nightmare, because Abigail despises being still for more than two seconds at a time. Sitting still is bad enough. But sitting still in a cart that's not moving - torture! Being the genius mother that I am, I decide to let her play with the first item that I scan - give her something to keep her busy while I scan and bag the week's rations, you know?

(Yes, I'm a self-checkout junkie. Nobody packs my groceries the way I like them except for ME. I pack those babies full. Why is it that every time a cashier bags my stuff I end up with, like, 6 bags for 5 products. C'mon people - A plastic bag can hold more than three cans of juice! Anyway, back to the saga...)

So I scan a 64 oz. bottle of juice and set it in the cart next to her. I'm thinking - it's plastic, she can chew on it but can't get it open, it's perfect. Silly Mommy obviously didn't think that one through. Plastic bottles don't break like glass when they hit the floor, but they still bust open. That's about 20-some ounces of Welch's White Grape Cherry juice all over the floor. Oh joy!


We survive the check-out, but Abigail hasn't had enough fun yet. We have to stop and say hello to Barney. I don't feed the monster quarters, I just let her climb up on the seat. She has no idea that this thing moves if you put money in it - she just likes to sit there and turn the steering wheel. If I have anything to say about it, she'll never see Barney in action, and therefore I will never have to hear her beg me for a quarter to ride.


We make it to the car and I'm putting groceries in the trunk when I realize that when the juice-incident took place, I never found the lid for the bottle. Now I have an opened, 2/3-full bottle of juice with a busted spout. But by golly, I bought the juice so I'm taking it home. Improvisation is a required skill for motherhood. I managed to get the juice home without spilling a drop or staining my pants (or should I say, without staining my pants more...there's that nice peanut butter spot on my thigh.) Back home in the driveway, I did manage to spill the juice onto the roof of the car when I set it there to get Abigail out of her carseat. But it was a little spill, and it only dripped onto the seat a couple times.

Tomorrow, we tackle Costco.