By Becci of Swords and Snoodles
Do you find grocery shopping with your children stressful? Are you looking for some top tips on ways to make it less stressful? Well, you’ve come to the right place! For a complete stress-free grocery shop, make sure you go ALONE, and if that’s not possible, then do it all online.
I’m pretty sure I suffer from some type of memory loss regarding doing a grocery shop with my kids.
Often my husband or I will stay in the car with my 3yo & 4yo whilst the other one of us grabs the few items we need. Kids and grocery shopping are just never a good combination in my experience, and why I didn’t remember this today I will never know.
We’d spent a few hours at the park this morning, had lunch out, and even had ice cream. Before heading home to play in the garden, we needed to stop at the supermarket for a few things. Both children wanted to come in with me. I said yes. I said yes?! Had I forgotten the monsters they transform into once we enter supermarkets? Apparently so! Off we went, all four of us.
D2 didn’t want to walk, he didn’t want to sit in a cart, he wanted Daddy to carry him. We got a cart (a double seated cart). We karate chopped D2 into the cart. D1 refused to sit in there; he wanted a separate cart. I said no. I know, I know, bad momma, but this was meant to be a QUICK shopping trip. D1 now wanted to sit in the cart with D2. The seat had a mark on it. Meltdown approaching. Meltdown avoided. Mummy used her scarf as a seat cover, of course.
We entered the supermarket.
D1 no longer wanted to be in the cart; it was uncomfortable and was hurting his “winkle.” D1 walked, and was told to hold my hand. D2 wanted to walk; he was not allowed out. His ‘runner’ reputation goes before him, and he cannot be trusted. I put my scarf back on because D1 no longer needed to use it as a somebody-else’s-crap-coverer. D2 looked at the mark on the empty seat next to him and started dramatically gagging. Momma’s scarf returned to the seat.
D2 asked to be carried, as opposed to sitting in a cart, being pushed around like royalty.
D1 picked up a butternut squash and shouted, “What’s this, Mummy?” I saw a lady give me the once over. I felt paranoid that she now thought I don’t feed my children vegetables, so I said, “It’s a butternut squash; you’ve tried it before!” I lied. I outright lied for the benefit of a nosey stranger. Idiot. I am an idiot. D2 now wanted the butternut squash.
D2 asked to be carried.
D1 asked if we are finished yet.
My husband and I had a conversation about dinner. D2 took this as an open invite to shout his preference: pizza. “Pizza pizza pizza!” he bellowed over and over again. I told him he wasn’t having pizza for tea this evening because he had it four days ago for dinner. He continued. My blood pressure rose. We walked by the pizza without stopping.
D1 now wanted to sit in the cart — the actual cart, not the seat part — but it was full of shopping. He was not impressed. He decided he now wanted to stand by the hot chicken counter because “It’s warm!” The counter was empty; we felt awkward. D1 appeared in his element.
Bread, bread, bread. Never choose bread when your children are there. Such a simple item to get, yet my brain had decided to malfunction. “Pizza pizza pizza!” yelled D2 as D1 took a big birthday cake off the shelf and sat with it cross-legged on the floor to inspect it. I asked him to put it back; instead, he heard me ask him to tip it up onto its side for a closer look. I put it back on the shelf for him. I didn’t put it back where he got it from. He had to put it in its rightful place.
Bread, back to the bread.
D2 asked to be carried.
We’d now been in the shop for 15 minutes. Our 5 minute trip had tripled in time. Right, momma on a mission.
[/nextpage] [nextpage title=”Page 2″ ]D1 wanted to buy a pack of icing because it had pretty cookies on the front. He wouldn’t believe me that the cookies are not in the packet too. We compromised on sweets instead. D1 wanted jaw-breaking type sweets, I made a few (sensible) suggestions, he suggested 3 more jaw-breaking types before settling for Momma’s suggestions.
D2 asked to be carried. I say “asked,” but really I mean squawked like a bird that’s been hit by a very large truck.
My shopping list in my brain disintegrated. My husband couldn’t think straight either.
D1 decided to spin round in circles instead of walking. I felt like my brain was doing the same.
Cheese next. Oh, and milk. Oh, crap, we forgot the bread.
D2 squawked. And squawked. And squawked some more.
D1 couldn’t walk anymore.
“Let’s go,” I thought. Screw the rest of the food. Who needs groceries anyway? Not us! Not ever again! Quick dash to the cashier, and let’s get out. Out out out!
Annnnnnnnnnnd we’re home.
I think going grocery shopping with children can be likened to some kind of traumatic life event. My husband and I walk into a supermarket with two children, and we leave with two gremlins and high blood pressure.
I love my kids, but not enough to take them grocery shopping with me in the near future. (Joke)
Oh, and D2 had pizza for dinner.
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About Becci
Hi, I’m Becci from the UK. I’m a 31 year old momma bear to two boys aged 3 & 4. You can find me over at swordsandsnoodles.co.uk spilling all the gory details of parenthood and giving you a heads up on all the things nobody ever told you pre-children! My trademark is honesty, blunt (and sometimes ugly) honesty. You can also find me on Facebook (www.facebook.com/