Going to the supermarket was something we did as a couple. A weekend jaunt, post fry up, pre pub. We'd mooch around Waitrose filling our basket with overpriced tubs of olives, Peroni beer and chiabatta bread 'for dipping', oblivious to the crowds, time on our side. I love food. And I love to shop for food.
At least I did.
Ever since the 'incident' when Little P was a baby I now dread those automatic doors. She was screaming like a wild banshee and so with my trolley half full I whipped her outside and strapped on the Baby Bjorn hoping a bit of jigging would lull her to sleep. So loud were her screams that the manager offered to open 'the parents room' for me. My eyes lit up - I mean this is Waitrose. We found ourselves in the disabled loo, in tears, me stripping off my top whilst still wearing the Baby Bjorn so she could get to the boob.
I have tried shopping on line, but instead of 5 leeks, I ordered 5 kilos of leeks.
I have tried going in the week but finding the perfect slot takes precision planning. Both kids should be not too tired, nor too hungry. And it also means shopping alongside the geriatric crew, arriving on their VIP bus, all armed with their 'kids should be seen but not heard' glare. Seesh.
So now I leave the kids with Mr Scruff and go on Saturdays. Along with every one else. Its a race to beat the 4x4 to the one parking space available (I always loose - its my good nature and battered Ford Focus that always lets me down), a clash of the trolleys, a constant chorus of 'sorry's, and 'excuse me's, a bum fight at the meat counter, dodging the dads with their Boden clad offspring (how come their mum gets the day off), the North London middle class buying their essential hummus and dinner party Chablis. And me wheel spinning around a breakneck speed fearing the Scruff household will fall apart if I don't return post haste. It's hell on earth.
I survived yesturday's war. My pride was a bit battered when, after queuing for twenty minutes, they opened the adjoining till, but I was piped to the post by Margot Leadbeter. But the battle, that will continue to be fought, next Saturday, Waitrose, N20.
NB: my kids own Boden. I devour hummus by the bucketload. I no longer eat leeks.
4 comments:
I hate shopping, always have and always will...I only shop because I have a responsibility to feed and clothe my offspring ;O)(Hubby can fend for himself!!)...but your post sent chills down my spine! I do shop when I need to,b ut have never classed it as an enjoyable experience...Have fun next Saturday xx
I once ended up sitting on the floor of the disabled loos in Asda, because I didn't even know they had a parent & child room (why don't they make it nice and obvious???!?!!) the toilet even had a nice big poo bobbing around, just to make it even nicer for me. I think I was in tears that day too.
I love shopping on a Saturday morning (but before you want to kill me, remember I just have the one tot, so not too hard to get us all out and ready). We go early, and then - and this is the truly genius part - we buy a few mags, pay for them at the kiosk, then hubby and girl go and sit in the cafe while I shop. Oh it's bliss. They have breakfast (cereal and muffin, sometimes hubby has fry up), enjoy time together, and I get peace and quiet. We've done this for over a year now, maybe a touch longer, and it makes shopping a joy. We try to get there as early as poss so I don't have jostle with too many trolleys.
About those dads who give mum the morning off whilst they shop with little ones ... take a closer look at their faces. Slightly panic striken, and a tad nervy. They go in all jovial and happy with their 'look at me, I'm a dad and I'm shopping with a child NOT IN THE TROLLEY, why do you women make such a fuss? It's not that hard'.
Then, you find them a few aisles down, slightly pink in the face, trying to sound jolly as they say 'Put it back please' through gritted teeth. By the middle of the shop they are bright red, shouting 'WILL YOU PUT IT BACK NOOOOOOWWWWWW' as little Tarquin runs riot and screams that he wants the toy/dvd/book/bag of sweets, and looking like they wished they hadn't volunteered and that they'd had the sense to strap child or children in a trolley before walking through the doors. I see this so many times, and when they are all smug and pleased with themselves at the start, I smile to self, and wait for the smile to slide off their faces. ha ha ha. ;o)
really enjoyed and related to this post - personally find shopping so stressful with either one of my children, let alone both of them! Seem to be always just waiting for disaster to happen...and it normally does!
Seriously. Give Ocado another go. After a few mistakes, it will be heaven for ever more...
Post a Comment