Why My Husband Does Our Grocery Shopping

Today, after my son had his speech therapy, I went to Walmart to do the grocery shopping. My husband always does the grocery shopping, but he is in Africa for a business workshop. (Did I ever mention that I'm African-American? Yep. My great-great grandfather was born and raised in South Africa. He later immigrated to the states and worked closely with Brigham Young. So, technically, I am African-American).

Anyway, I took my four-year-old son with me shopping. He was pretty easy for the first while. He stayed by me, held my hand, and listened to me. Until he didn't. Then it was hard--imagine doing a workout with jeans and a coat on. After getting all the food, I realized I needed to go back to get some poster board for my daughter's History Day project which, of course, was across the store. My son refused to cooperate, so I had to hold him and pull the overflowing cart all the way to the other side. After that, I had to go back across to the original side to find a checker because only 4 checkstands were open and 2 of those were for 20 items or less--even if it had been 200 items or less I wouldn't have qualified.

During checkout my son ran off, of course, and I had to chase him. Even though I had fit all my items into one cart, after bagging, there was no way to fit it all in. And, was there an extra basket? No. Anyone to find me an extra basket? No. Anyone to help me? No.

I filled a laundry basket I'd purchased with stuff, hung my purse and another bag filled with stuff off my arm, and then balanced the laundry basket between my chest and thigh. I laced my pinky and ring fingers through the end of the basket and proceeded to hobble out of the store, backwards. When I got to the door, the employee standing there didn't offer to help me. Instead she asked to see my receipt. Seriously?

I said, "Are you serious?" She nodded. I then said, "Well, you'll have to follow me out here (to where the other baskets were located) so I can show you." I hobbled the rest of the way out and found a basket just barely in time before I dropped everything. She didn't follow me outside.

I mean, really. I had Walmart bags all over my basket, including the one hanging off my arm, a boobing kid, and was balancing a laundry basket between my chest and legs. Do I look like a thief? If so, we've got some poor theives where I live.

And this is why my husband does the grocery shopping.