Do Not Attempt

Do not attempt to take children to the grocery store.  Eating canned corn and stale rice crispy's (because that is about all that is in the pantry, oh yeah and soy sauce?) for dinner is a much better idea than taking 3 children to the grocery store at 5:30 on the last day of the case lot sale.  The parking lot was the first indication I should have cut my losses and gone home.  A fly buzzed Jara and I'm sure emergency services got a report of an attempted homicide.  Girlfriend does not do flying creatures.  Hmm wonder where she got that one from?  For the record, seagulls and bats are way more scary/dangerous than a fly.  Pep talk and cookie bribery finally gets us in the store.  Not a good way to begin grocery shopping however.  Nerves should not be frazzled before entering a place with small aisles and sensory overload possibilities. 

We are half-way done.  Chilling in the meat aisle (haha) when Jack starts playing with the hem of my skirt, I am distracted trying to pick out a nice piece of slab and don't think too much of it.  He senses my vulnerability and WHAM just like that lifts up the back of my skirt.  Thankfully I didn't wear my leopard thong that day. Just kidding you all know what I was wearing. But still. People saw.  People I had just been talking to.  I turned as red as the beef, not to be confused with beet.  Ahh the metaphors of my life.  Anyway, after the talk about "why we don't lift up mommy's skirt in the grocery store," he lovingly petted my leg, up the skirt, and said "sorry foonie."  He has been sweetly making up names for Jara and I all week.  Time to go.  I know when I'm beaten.  Tossed the steak, marched down the frozen pizza aisle grabbed a Freschetta 4-cheese and got the hell outta there.  If you want to be a good mom don't take your kids to the grocery store.