My husband was starting to feel better on Monday and since he really needed/wanted to get out of the house and I needed to grocery shopping, we decided, rather foolishly, to take the entire family on a grocery-shopping-outing. As soon as I got home from driving the car pool after school, we loaded up the kids in the minivan and I grabbed my carefully organized shopping list and coupons, clipped and matched with the sales at the local grocery store.
We live in the boonies and so I try not to go to the grocery store very often. We were nearly to the store when the little tire warning light flashed and simultaneously we heard/felt the tell-tale signs of a flat tire. My husband pulled into the parking lot of a nearby store (just happened to be an auto parts store) and we set about changing the tire.
My husband works from home and he wears pajama pants about 90% of the time. If he has to go somewhere (other than church) or mow the lawn he puts on jeans. For some reason, he was wearing slacks. Isn't that ironic. The men in my husband's family are not known for their ability to 1. stay calm under pressure 2. work with anything mechanical. (I once watched five of his brothers and nephews stand around and watch another non-related guy put a bed together by himself.) and 3. stay calm while attempting to working with something mechanical.
That being said, I was really really proud of my dear husband. He didn't swear as he knelt on the pavement in his slacks removing the very flat tire while the wind blew and the baby screamed. He didn't throw anything or stomp on anything. I was really really proud that we managed to find the illusive spare tire--let's just say the engineers at Chrysler got very very creative. We got the spare tire on and drove the short distance to the Tire Center at Walmart.
While the helpful, cheerful guys at Walmart got busy fixing our tire, we browsed around Walmart. We should have just done my grocery shopping there and saved time and our sanity, but I had a very carefully planned list that maximized the coupons and the sales at Smith's. The car was finally finished (we had to tell the Walmart tire guys where to put the spare--they'd never seen such a strange place to store a spare) and we continued on to the grocery store two hours after we left home. We should have just turned around and gone home, but we had already driven that far and we do live in the boonies.
Even though I had explained to my dear husband and dear children that we were only getting the items on my carefully planned shopping list, my oldest son never left my right hip. He whined and begged and pleaded for every single thing in the store. He totally threw me off my shopping savvy game and reminded me why I usually go grocery shopping at night after he's already in bed. He so annoyed me that I actually refrained from getting some of the things on my list because he was begging for them. Then, in the check-out line he actually had the audacity to argue with me and the cashier when it turned out that one of the boxes of cereal was too big to be considered in the "buy 4 get . . ." sale. I remembered to give the cashier my coupons but I wasn't aware enough to make sure I was actually getting all the discounts and sales. When I got to the car and checked my receipt I was irritated to see that I should have saved at least another five dollars.
We finally got home and my oldest son spent an hour on the bench in the laundry room. The rest of us had a rushed dinner instead of the good meal we were planning followed by an abbreviated Family Home Evening and the kids went to bed. Finally. My husband and I settled down to watch our Netflix movie together. We got about a third of the way through (far enough to be interested) when the movie started skipping and then wouldn't continue. I took it out to clean it and discovered a crack on the edge of the DVD. And we really missed the tortilla chips we had planned to eat with the homemade salsa we had planned to make but didn't get to because I didn't buy the chips because my son was bugging me.
Tuesday morning we woke up to frost on the lawn and ice in the kids' water table. I picked all the red tomatoes and the peppers on Monday afternoon but I had held off on picking all the green tomatoes. They were ruined. Wasted.
Since it was chilly, I decided to dress Molly in the fall outfit that I bought her several months ago. It just barely fit. Surprised and confused, I checked the tags and discovered that I had purchased the outfit in the three month old size. What had I been thinking? She was three months old when I bought it but surely I would have realized that by the time it got cool enough to wear the outfit, she would already be six months old! We did take some cute pictures of her wearing it but she won't be able to fit her chubby little self in it for long. (You can see more at Cindi Braby Photography Blog.)
And then a salesperson knocked on my door this afternoon. I don't know what possessed me to let her in. She was selling meat. Maybe I was hungry. Whatever reason, I bought the meat. I talked her down over 50% from the "original price" but as soon as I signed the check and she left the house, I felt sick to my stomach. (My husband is giving me a hard time, nicely.) Now, I am just annoyed with myself. Irritated.
Well, at least I do have an adorably cute baby and next time my husband and I need to celebrate and the kids get sick, we'll already have steaks in the freezer. Oh, and I wouldn't want to spend this thirteenth year with anyone but my dear husband. I love you, babe.