Pay day and indulging

I love pay days. A big trip to the grocery store is somehow so satisfying, especially now that I'm planning meals. Before meal planning, I'd come home with $80 worth of groceries and still have no idea what I was making for dinner that night, but now I have days and days of peace of mind packed into my trunk when I leave the store.

Today was supposed to contain a trip to the sprayground in the morning with our playgroup, but severe thunderstorms warranted canceling the playdate, so we were left with our usual pay day routine of running errands and shopping. I first indulged in my every-so-often treat of a mocha and a cheese danish at Starbucks (plus banana walnut bread for Kent), then I sipped away at my mocha while we drove around. We dropped off a Kipper movie at the library despite Kent's protests that he wanted to keep it (seriously, that is a cute dog, and I *love* his little British voice), filled up the gas tank, made a quick stop at the produce market, then headed to Target for the grocery extravaganza.

One day when we were killing time in Target, I gave Kent a grocery basket to carry a couple of things in and told him he was being a "good shopper," and ever since then he's been dying to carry a basket and shuffle around the store with it at .5 mph. Most of the time, I just want to put him in the cart and get the job done, especially since I usually have Dean strapped in the BabyHawk and he likes it if I keep moving. Kent still tells me each time that he wants to be a good shopper, though. Today, I explained to him that there are a lot of ways to be a good shopper, and one of the best ways is by being patient and helpful, as he almost always is on these outings. He's just gotten to the point where he really can help me if I keep him engaged, like choosing a flavor of fruit strip or a shape of pasta, or telling me what he wants on the pizza we're buying to have for lunch. As we were strolling down the cereal aisle, he started talking again about something he's been wanting for a while, Cocoa Krispies. Except he calls them Hot Cocoa Rice Krispies, which I just love. We had them around the house when I was pregnant, and he knows they're a Sometimes Treat but he wanted Sometime to be Today. I was okay with that.

We checked things off the list, loaded up the cart, and headed toward the checkout, and I got in line behind a woman with two preteen daughters. They had completely filled the conveyor belt with everything bright and colorful they could find in the store, from clothes and bathing suits to hair bands, candy, and home decor. Their total was $677. I cannot imagine ever having that kind of money to drop in one trip to Target, but I'm cheap, and I don't have preteen daughters. Anyway, they happily grabbed all their purchases, and then I put through our rather modest collection of pantry items and toiletries.

Reusable bags loaded up, and boys still happy, I head toward the exit, and I realize that the severe thunderstorm coming in from the west is here. The parking lot is completely grey. I'm thankful that I grabbed the umbrella out of the car, I warn Kent that we're about to get really wet, and then I splash into the crazy puddles, pushing a shopping cart with one hand and holding the umbrella over my kids with the other. I have to take the umbrella away from Kent's head when I load the bags into the car, so he just sits in the cart, squinting with a goofy half-smile on his face and already soaked to the skin. I realize quickly that there's no way to get the boys into their carseats while still holding the umbrella, but by now, it has blown completely inside out, so it's fairly useless anyway. At this point, all I can do is laugh and enjoy the rain. I make my best attempt at folding up the umbrella to chuck it into the car, open Kent's door so he can climb, squeaky-shoed, into his seat, take the cart back to the cart return area (because I think it's important, even in the rain), and then put a very surprised-to-be-wet baby into his carseat. Kent gets strapped in as well, and then I run to my door and attempt to climb in, despite the fact that my jeans are drenched and, as such, are glued to my skin and will not allow me to sit down properly. After I finally get in the car, I take off my wet shoes and socks, brush my hair so it doesn't dry in a tangly mess, then exclaim, "Holy moly!" which sends Kent into fits of giggles. He asks me in between snickers if I'm saying holy moly because my hair is wet, and I reply that I'm saying that about all of it, the whole thing.

We get home, I change two very wet diapers and get everyone into dry clothes, and then I start the pizza and get Dean down for a nap. A little while later, Kent and I sit down to enjoy our meal together. One of my favorite things he's saying right now is that he likes a particular meal we're eating, and it's a bonus to me if he says this while actually eating from more than one food group. He surveyed his sausage pizza, his box of raisins, and his cup of milk, and said in his sweetest voice, "I like this lunch, Mom." Me too, kid. It might have been a lot of trouble to get to this point, but I like this lunch, too.

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what kent said sounds like such an awesome reward for a harrowing trip! too cute.
great blog! Want hot cocoa rice krispies too.
Ditto and Ditto...when we were kids, mom would wait for the thunder to roll from far away, then we were allowed outside to play in the rain swollen streams of the gutters...there were no storm sewers in those days...and few cars to interrupt the play!
No wonder you didn't answer your phone when I called during my lunch break (11:30 your time)!
The rain adventure is a very Kipper-ish adventure, don't you think?
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