I'm not a good grocery shopper. I've read about the rules on being a good grocery shopper. You know; make a list, don't buy anything that's not on the list, compare prices, buy what's on sale...blah blah blah. I just don't usually follow them.
I have a magnetic notepad stuck to my fridge. The rules of the house are "if we run out of something or it's low, write it on the list so I can pick it up the next time I go shopping." Nathan and the kids will sometimes jot stuff down on that list. In fact they are better at using the list then I am and I'm not sure why. See, I don't usually check that list before I go and it is even more rare if I bring that list along with me. I, more often then not, head out to the grocery store list-less. I know I need meat, veggies, and milk. The rest of what I need or exactly which cuts of meat or type of veggies I need I have no clue. I just kinda figure it out when I get there.
So last week the local grocery store had a sale on pork chops. A big, huge family-style pack of chops. We haven't had them in a long time, so I was super excited to put that huge pack of chops in my cart. I knew I wouldn't be using them until the next week, so I stuffed them into the freezer and forgot about them. A few days later I thought, "Hey, wouldn't pork chops be soooo good?" and I took the pack out of the freezer. Fast forward to tonight:
I get home from homeschool play day. I look in the kitchen and it's a mess. I do the minimum so I can start cooking. Nathan comes up from his home office to help me. I take out the pork chops. I start putting them on the pan. I notice the four pork chops that were on the top of the mega pack are nicely, uniformly cut. Underneath these first four pork chops are some smaller cut chops and then one *huge-ass* pork chop. I think, "Who the hell cut these pork chops? These four smaller ones look like freaking ribs and this giant one could very well be a roast!" I shake my head in frustration at the meat counter, internally cursing them for putting the good looking chops on top and then screwing me with these other grotesque cuts on the bottom. Then my eyes hit the label on my meat:
Pork Loin Assortment
I guess those four smaller ones *are* ribs and the giant one is indeed a roast. Morale of the story: Shop with a list AND read the label?
A Lesson I Thought I Already Knew
I have three kids. Two of them are teens. If you account for the number of sandals, boots, gym shoes, dress shoes, 'regular' shoes, ice skates, roller blades, and aqua shoes I have bought in the last fifteen years for all of these kids I am *sure* I have purchased well over 1,000 pairs of children's shoes. So what happened yesterday should have never happened...ever.
The youngest child, aka 'Brianiac', has been complaining that his shoes are too small. Like I said, he's the youngest. Long gone are the daily checks from mom to see if a child's shoes fit. If they don't fit, it's up to them to tell me. He's probably complained a little too long. You see I hate taking children shoe shopping and this is why:
We will enter the store. They will gaze with wide eyes at all the shoes on the wall. They will automatically be drawn to the most uncomfortable or non-fitting pair in the store. I will sigh. I will tell them to try them on. They will try the shoes on and convince me that the shoes are a perfect fit. I will ask them to walk around in the store. They do. I see them limping slightly. They tell me they just tripped a *little* bit and it's not the shoes, only their own clumsiness to blame. I tell them to run in the shoe store. They say, "What?" I say, "Run." They will run around the shoe store, smiling widely, talking about how these particular shoes make them run even faster then usual. I will roll my eyes and let out an enormous sigh... I try tripping the children by grabbing onto the backs of the shoes as they walk away from me. The children have learned that trick and somehow manage to keep a pair of shoes on their feet that are four sizes too big. Yes, I said four sizes. I grudgingly buy the pair of shoes that look really cool, but I know don't fit.
Soon after, I am back at the shoe store, buying a pair of shoes that actually fit. 'Brianiac' now has a pair of shoes that actually fit him and a pair he should be able to wear in a couple years. That's if I don't forget about the large pair stashed in the closet and miss out on the window of opportunity where these shoes will actually fit him.
The youngest child, aka 'Brianiac', has been complaining that his shoes are too small. Like I said, he's the youngest. Long gone are the daily checks from mom to see if a child's shoes fit. If they don't fit, it's up to them to tell me. He's probably complained a little too long. You see I hate taking children shoe shopping and this is why:
We will enter the store. They will gaze with wide eyes at all the shoes on the wall. They will automatically be drawn to the most uncomfortable or non-fitting pair in the store. I will sigh. I will tell them to try them on. They will try the shoes on and convince me that the shoes are a perfect fit. I will ask them to walk around in the store. They do. I see them limping slightly. They tell me they just tripped a *little* bit and it's not the shoes, only their own clumsiness to blame. I tell them to run in the shoe store. They say, "What?" I say, "Run." They will run around the shoe store, smiling widely, talking about how these particular shoes make them run even faster then usual. I will roll my eyes and let out an enormous sigh... I try tripping the children by grabbing onto the backs of the shoes as they walk away from me. The children have learned that trick and somehow manage to keep a pair of shoes on their feet that are four sizes too big. Yes, I said four sizes. I grudgingly buy the pair of shoes that look really cool, but I know don't fit.
Soon after, I am back at the shoe store, buying a pair of shoes that actually fit. 'Brianiac' now has a pair of shoes that actually fit him and a pair he should be able to wear in a couple years. That's if I don't forget about the large pair stashed in the closet and miss out on the window of opportunity where these shoes will actually fit him.
The Search Continues
I'm doing my best to find out 'exactly' who I am. Which is odd in itself because I feel that most people grow and change. So reality is that I will never know 'exactly' who I am. Sometimes we are forced into a period of growth and other times we just find ourselves there.
I am constantly growing. For example, even just a few months ago I had sworn off coconut for-ev-er, *knowing* that I hated it. I hate the way it tasted. I hate the texture of it. (Oh, but I do kinda like the smell of it.) WAIT!!! I hate coconut! And then...I decided that I'm not against trying things with coconut in them. I am not about limiting myself, even to things I *knew* were true about me. And you know what? I had changed. I can say that I have actually enjoyed things with coconut in them. Weird, I like coconut?!?!
So don't pin me down, don't judge me for this or that, and please...please don't tell me you know me or what you think I am or what I like or don't like....because you just never know - hell, I don't even know!
