I am such a nerd.
Aaron took his grandma to her hair appointment today in downtown Prosser. I decided to drive the kids down there while she was getting her hair cut because I thought Grandma Helen might want to show off her great grandkids to her stylist. (Small town. You know.)
I parked our mini-van in front of the hair salon.
We spent some time "showing off." Everyone commented on Sophie's curls and the size of her thighs. The bigger kids took turns sitting under the old fashioned hair dryers.
When they got a little too rambunctious, I decided, hey, the grocery store is just a block away. Let's walk over there and get something to drink. A bottle of cold cherry Dr. Pepper sounded just about right.
So, the four kids and I walked to the supermarket, went inside, and headed for the refrigerated drink section.
The first thing I saw was the sale on the 24-pack of Dr. Pepper.
Wow, what a deal.
Problem is, I didn't even have a cart.
So, I hauled the kids back to the front of the store, cleaned off a cart with a disinfectant wipe (love that about American grocery stores!) and went back for that precious 24 pack. That's almost a month's worth of Dr. Pepper, people!
We wandered through the rest of the store and picked up on-sale deli meat, Mother's frosted animal cookies, sugar cookies with raspberry icing, and bread. Oh, and a can of chicken soup the kids wanted for lunch with Dora the Explorer-shaped pasta in it.
Paid for our purchases and headed for the entrance.
I walked over here, I reminded myself, as I stood at the sliding door.
My car is back at the hair salon. And I don't have a bike either.
I considered taking the cart with me all the way to the hair salon, but then decided against it. Way too dorky.
I'm tough, I thought. And yes, my eyes are bigger than my muscles, but I can carry a baby and a 24-pack of Dr. Pepper back to the hair salon. Right? As long as the bigger kids help me carry the other groceries.
I'm sure we looked like poorest-of-the-poor. Me, cutting through the parking lot of the do-it-yourself car wash, with a baby on one hip and a whole lot of cheap Dr. Pepper on the other. And my three other children straggling along behind me, lugging plastic shopping bags over their shoulders, and crying out, "It's too heavy! I can't take another step!"
We made it. We're no worse off for the experience. I didn't drop Sophie or anything.
But it's making me rethink my tendency to want to walk places. I can feel myself becoming more American. I've gone one baby step closer to becoming one of those people who drives his or her car out to the mailbox to get the mail.
We've only been back for four weeks. I'm getting lazy much too quickly.