Walmart and my One-Year-Old Do NOT Mix Well

Parker loves to get out. I've taken him to Sam's Club several times in the company of my mom, and there he has a wonderful time. Walmart seems to be a different story.

Yesterday I had the dubious pleasure of visiting Walmart not once, but twice. I had the opportunity to go a third time in twelve hours, but chose not to take advantage of the opportunity. Some part of my mind thinks this is a funny story.

We all piled in the car yesterday morning in time to drive Michael to work, drop him off, and head directly to Wal-mart. Parker probably spent a total of 35 to 40 minutes in the car, which of course means that he was yawning by the time we reached the store. At 8:20 a.m. I knew that we had some time before he would absolutely have to go down for a nap, but the boy was already tired: difficulty #1.

I've been trying really hard to be careful what I spend on groceries, because all the country's living expenses are going up and up and up. This means that I check the per unit pricing as I make decisions concerning which brands to purchase. This also means the grocery shopping takes a bit longer these days than it otherwise might. Unfortunately Parker and careful choosing do not mix well. I wasn't trying to exasperate the boy, but it was unavoidable. Approximately two-thirds of the way through my list I realized my poor, sweet, darling, adorable baby could stand it no longer. Even though I hadn't purchased applesauce yet, a current staple around our house, I had to get out of that store as quickly as possible, for his sake: difficulty #2.

Now, I realize that for some it is common practice to a) visit Wal-mart more than once in a single day, and/or b) visit Wal-mart during afternoon hours, but it is not my practice because I tend to be a little socially claustrophobic when there are too many people packed into the same isle. Under those circumstances I get confused, and have more difficulty in making even simple decisions. Also, I had been watching the gasoline guage on my car, and while I had a whole tank, I was painfully aware of the movement of the dial.

By the time Parker and I made it home, I got him fed and down for his morning nap, I was already wiped out. I barely had enough energy to put the groceries I had already purchased away. Therefore I sat on the couch and watched Boy Meets World virtually the entire time he napped, only pausing to empty the dishwasher from the night before.

I now had a decision to make. I could a) make a second trip to Wal-mart that afternoon to get the rest of my groceries, which trip was absolutely necessary because there were still some staple items that needed to be replenished for meals the next day. I could otherwise b) wait and go back the next morning. I was opting for a, but by the time Parker woke up and I got lunch into the both of us it was already after 2:00.

I decided to get it over with. Parker and I piled into the car, and at the first opportunity I turned the wrong way onto Loop Road. I must have been thinking too hard about my friend Heather's house, and so didn't realize where I was driving: difficulty #3. There was probably a way to get to Wal-mart from that end of Loop Road, but I couldn't figure it out, so I wound up having to turn the car around and retrace my steps, all the while obsessively watching the gas guage. By the time I had made it half-way to my destination I realized that Parker was yawning again. I toyed with the idea of making another loop and heading home or to a playground for Parker, but since I'd already used so much gasoline (and braved so much school traffic) to get where I was, I determined that I simply couldn't afford it. So we visited Wal-mart for the second time.

Parker did much better this time. It helped that we ran into three different sets of people we knew, which was encouraging. I managed to get the rest of the items on my list (save two).

Our difficulties, however, were not over. About the time I made it home and unloaded my groceries from the car I realized two things. There had been a little old lady in line ahead of us who had had some problems in purchasing her groceries. First, she made her check out to the wrong store. Next, she walked off without a bag containing toothpaste. The chashier who checked me out found the toothpaste. She did not discover the bag that traveled home with me. I didn't find it until I had driven all the way home. Also, I didn't realize at the time, although I almsot noticed in line, that the cashier had mistaken my spaghetti squash, which cost $.98, for a melon, which cost $3.50: difficulty #4. By this time, I had had enough, Parker was really late for his nap, and I was about to have to leave the house again, this time for the rest of the evening.

I worried about that little old lady occasionally for the rest of the evening and even for a small time this morning. I feel so badly for her as I imagine what she must feel because she left a bag of groceries behind. What if she was operating on a tight budget? What if it took her a long time to get her groceries in the first place? You know, of course, that if I just took the time that I've worried, and used that time to pray for her, we both of us would be a lot better off. And of course, writing the whole story down is the first time the idea has even crossed my mind.

In the end, Parker had a fun evening with his grandparents, Michael and I enjoyed a night out, and my pantry and refrigerator are pleasingly full. Additionally, the house looked great by the time I got home (they watched Parker at our house), and I had a very relaxing ending to a frustrating day. The grocery part, however, is not an experience I am anxious to repeat.