A week has past since having my family here for a fun-filled Thanksgiving week. And after a week of eating leftovers, it was time to go to the grocery store this morning. Story and I were both up a little after 7, and I had this vision of us getting the grocery journey done in time for nap. It was going to be great. We'd put on some comfy clothes, swing by the Starbucks and be in and out of the HEB in an hour's time.
Three hours later, here's what actually went down:
Starbucks was out of the salt that goes on the salted caramel mocha. Seriously, Starbucks, no reindeer on the cups AND you're out of the salt that makes that beverage worth purchasing?
Story spit up on me as we walked across the parking lot from Starbucks to HEB. Good-bye to my vision of looking like one of those with-it moms who totes baby on hip, Starbucks in one hand and looks cute in leggings. True, my baby was on my hip, and I did have on leggings, but they were saggy and covered with spit-up. And, of course, I somehow managed to spill some of that mocha down the sides of the red cup... how can I spill things when they have lids on them?
I did my usual maneuvers down the aisles of HEB, pushing the cart with one hand, and kicking it occasionally, because Story was getting fussy and ready for morning nap, so she didn't want to ride in her carrier in the cart. I went so early in the morning so that I could minimize the number of dirty looks I receive for taking up way too much space in the aisles. I'd say I only received four or five, as opposed to the dozens that I would have gotten if I'd gone later in the afternoon, so... winning.
I needed to make a pit-stop to the bathroom half-way through, and someone was taking forever in the family bathroom, so that meant that Story had to journey with me into the women's restroom and sit on my lap while I was in the stall. Pretty sure she's going to be exposed to all the major diseases. Go Story's immune system. Also, she is TERRIFIED by auto-flush toilets, and clings to me with little cat-claw hands when she has to go to accompany me on these escapades to the loo.
By the time we finally made it to the check-out line, she had been asleep for at least ten minutes. So much for making it home by nap time.
When I got home, unpacking the groceries turned into cleaning out my refrigerator, and some of my kitchen shelves. So the kitchen is now pretty much a wreck.
And, maybe best of all... somehow I managed to forget three things. Two of them were actually on my grocery list. So, score for me for making it home with four tiny bottles of Asti (not on the list), but no toilet paper (on the list and kind of important, know what I'm saying?)
But you know what? It's okay. As I've been putting away the groceries, I've been listening to our Christmas records. There's something great about hearing Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole crone away about the tiny baby in Bethlehem and the friends and family that gather to celebrate Him. So, somehow, even with spit-up on my leggings, and a torn apart kitchen, I'm finding joy this morning. I'm also wondering if I'll ever be able to remember all the things on my grocery list ever again? Maybe, next time, I'll make that mocha a grande and see what happens. ;)
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