I am sure that nobody really cares what thoughts go through my head whilst I am shopping, and in fact it is probably the epitome of narcissism to even post them, but on the other hand, perhaps you share them and can relate.
Produce Isle: This is where I get to be the mother I always wanted to be - in my mind. I fill the top of the cart with all manner of green. Broccoli, spinach, peppers, beans. I am going to, after seven years of planning, finally make tabouli salad. I have until the parsley I just bought rots to make good on my plan. I know from experience that I have up to three weeks if I'm lucky. I have all kinds of fantasies about making wonderful healthy meals for my family since I have Monday off this week (which is now half over). It is not going to be like those other times, where eventually I slop all the slime from the bottom of the crisper box into the compost and soak the crisper in bleach. This time I'm going to finally embody the pinnacle of perfect motherhood and cook. I am as sure of it as the father who says "I know I haven't called you in a year and a half but I promise that when I get back in-state I'll take you to Disney". Or Russ will cook us great meals like he always does provided he is not working til 1 am.
I progress to the deli. This is where I decide while my ham is being sliced that I am going to get Johnny to quit his pepperoni habit. Next week. Everyone knows that pepperoni is just a gateway drug and can lead to all manner of worse addictions, but heck, he has made himself a pepperoni wrap with cheese five days a week for the whole school year, so another week isn't really going to make a difference. Plus it might make for better relations if he tapers off rather than going cold turkey. And I don't think he likes turkey anyway. So putting off the "you're eating turkey instead of pepperoni" battle makes a lot of sense. It is good parenting to mentally prepare for these kinds of interventions.
On to the meat section. It is at the bottom of all the rest of the aisles and I dread getting near it. I can pretend I don't see it the first couple of times I pass into another aisle, but eventually I have no choice but to face it. DINNER! It's not about how to cook, but what to cook, as my mother always said. But as I peer at the cuts of meat and packages of chicken and wonder what the heck I'm going to do with it once I get home, I try and make myself feel better with the happy fact that at least I don't have to go out and kill it. In fact, that is what I mention to the gentleman next to me who is an acquaintance and has just muttered a polite hello. He says: "what"? And I say: "I said that at least I don't have to go out and kill it, skin it, drag it in, cook it, and all that. You know what I mean?" He laughs weakly and suddenly gets very interested in the turkey burger a few yards away.
Now that I have called Russ three times to ask how to pick out meat to cut up for stew and what else should we make on the nights when we are not buying burgers at the swim meet, I can move on to more important things.
The bread Isle is easy. Back when I was younger I had this idea that I would read labels and try and find bread without high-fructose corn syrup, which, in this country, is harder than you might think. I got around the issue by spotting a very healthy-looking mom with a very healthy looking child in the bread section. I know how to pick-em, because sure enough, she started reading labels while her kid sat patiently in the cart. Must be the lack of sugar that keeps him so calm. Since my toddler was too jumpy for me to even consider stopping to read anything, I just muddled about near the rolls and semi-stalked the woman until she put a loaf of bread in her cart and then I ran over and grabbed a loaf from the same place. That bread is no longer available, but now I have different criteria. If my kids will eat it and it says “natural”, “12 grain” and is even moderately brown I buy it and move on. Plus I never have glasses with me for reading nor the time to wait around for unsuspecting health-conscious mothers to happen on the scene. And they make me feel old and fat by comparison so I'd just as soon skip it.
As I approach the diaper aisle, I muse at how things have changed over the years with respect to the diaper aisle. In my early 20's I looked down it and said: “thank goodness I don't have to go down the diaper aisle yet”. In my late twenties it looked slightly more inviting. In my thirties it was where I spent the majority of my shopping hours, perusing and evaluating what goods to buy for my little treasures. In my 40's I smugly glance and say, “thank goodness I'm done with THAT aisle, with a little wistfulness that I can't deny. Now, approaching 50, there is a tiny thread of dread as I peer down the aisle and the thought occurs to me that I might have to revisit that aisle again in not so many years. The big packages of Depens leer at me, bigger than life as I say to myself “thank goodness I don't have to go down the diaper aisle again. YET.”
I pass rather uneventfully through the frozen section, peering over the pile in the basket every so often to wonder how much it is all going to cost. If it is time to buy chicken “strips” (not the same as chicken nuggets, mind you, because the package says “white meat” and the shape is oblong and not nugget-shaped and it costs $7.95), then I grab it and stuff it as deep as possible in the cart and cover it with vegetables. That way I can tell myself as well as the rest of the shoppers at Hannaford that I am a good mother because I buy good food. If it is baseball season and my cart has too many convenience foods and too few vegetables with which to cover them up, then I casually mention to people I know that it is baseball season and that isn't it terrible that we have to feed our kids (all beef and nitrate-free and make sure to mention that part) hot dogs and rush off to the games. Not that they are in any different predicament than I and in fact I am not peering into their carts so why should I think that they are peering into mine, but that is beside the point.
I would live to hear your shopping thoughts.
No comments:
Post a Comment