A Very Different Evening At Trader Joe'sNaomi Odes
Remember my solo date at Trader Joe’s? If you didn’t follow me over at Baby’s First Year, here’s a link to refresh your memory.
Tonight, I picked up the Shnook from school, and we ended up staying there until after dark because the kids were having such a good time playing. I had no where to go, other than home to make a quick dinner and then put the boys to bed, so I figured, it would be good to get their energy out. Then I (stupidly) mentioned that we were out of a few staple items.
“Let’s go to Trader Joe’s!” He said, cheerfully.
“Oh sweetie, it’s Friday night. It will be very crowded and horrible.”
“NO! PLEASE! PLEASE can we go to Trader Joe’s”
Seeing as I have no business arguing with him at any time, especially since the consequences will be my own, and we happen to pass one on the way home, (which he never fails to point out) I decided, what the heck.
Big mistake. First, we circled the parking lot about sixteen times, looking for a space. Trader Joe’s is notorious for having parking lots that are way too small to serve their patrons. I felt like I was in a sea of sharks, trying to nab that one tiny sardine left in the ocean.
I ended up giving up and going to a different Trader Joe’s. Lucky for me I live within walking distance of two. I wish that was the end of my nightmare.
We had to park in the extra lot which is shared with a synagogue across the street. The upside is there is usually parking on a Friday night since most of the synagogue patrons walk to Shul for the sabbath. The downside is that it was up on another level. I carried Fuzz down the stairs only to have Shnook throw a fit that he didn’t get to go first. Then he complained that he was freezing and we had to go back to the car to get his sweatshirt. Yes, I realize that the rest of the country is experience negative temperatures right now…and my son was complaining in his T-shirt, but work with me here, pretend you live in Southern California, too.
When we finally got to the door, Fuzz started pulling his own toddler nonsense by refusing to get into the cart. I shoved him under my arm like a loaf of bread (a twenty-five pound, shrieking loaf of bread) while Shnook enjoyed the larger compartment of the shopping cart. At least he doesn’t mind when I dump groceries on top of him.
I know they were hungry, and it was the dreaded witching hour (therein lies the core of my ‘big mistake’) so we ended up opening approximately four different bags of snacks during the course of our fifteen minute (felt like 2 hour) excursion. I tried to minimize the crumbs that littered the aisles. At the check-out I was dying of thirst and grabbed a bottle of sparkling water and opened it. If you’ve ever opened a bottle of sparkling water all the way on the first try, you know what happened next.
“Clean-up on aisle 8. The Mom did it.”
Anyway, we made it out alive. I’m just glad everyone is asleep now.