Although a trip to the grocery store may seem like a small feat to many, to a prego with a two year old in tote it is indeed a difficult task. Not only do I have to park far away due to the holiday shoppers, but those angry people with carts seem to have no mercy for a pregnant lady. The look in their eyes says it all: "I will get that last gallon of one percent milk if my life depends on it!"
While shopping for extension cords, Owen decides that he needs a flashlight. I get him a small red one and he keeps shining it in my face. He drops it, I pick it up, he drops it, I pick it up...you get the idea. Bending over without passing gas or grunting is impossible, thus adding to my annoyance.
Walking through the holiday section is what I am most looking forward to. Since this will be our first Christmas in our new house, I must stock up on mini-lights, garland, and all of that other tacky stuff that I love so dearly. Owen deduces from all of the lights and super-awesome trains that we are at a party and proceeds to scream loudly at every shiny thing he sees. There was a lot of screaming. My fellow shoppers were none too happy about this.
I am at the front of the store, Owen is gleefully shining the flashlight in passersby faces and I realize I forgot butter. Okay, the butter is at the very back of the store. I need it to make fudge and mashed potatoes and I definitely do not want to get back out until Black Friday is over. So, I decide to take my wobbling self back to the dairy section and I buy more butter than one person should ever eat in a year...just in case.
We finally make it out of the store. Owen says to me "Mommy go night-night". Geez, even my two year old can see my exhaustion. I feel as if I actually accomplished something by completing a trip to the grocery. I guess I should be happy with my small accomplishments.
