This morning I went into town with baby, whilst my cheeky toddler is at nursery. She goes for two mornings a week, so that I can get all the chores for the week done without fuss, in an eighth of the time it would usually take.
I didn’t intend to go to the supermarket, it just happened. It seemed so easy. Baby was asleep, I could steer the pram with two hands and I didn’t have to pull 2 stones of toddler along the floor by her reins. “Yey!” I thought, “I feel so chilled out! Let’s just ‘pop’ in quickly to get a few bits…”
There were loads of offers so as I was toddler free I took my time – half a luxurious hour later I was just managing to push the pram round with the rammed basket dangling precauriously on the handles. Baby was stirring, grunting and grizzling. “Ok sweetie, mummy’s finished now, just hold off for a moment..”
I got to the checkouts to find there had been a zombie apocalypse. There was no one to be seen; the silence echoed. Unusual for 9.15 on a Tuesday morning. Baby let out a sharp terradaptor cry. Panicking ever so slightly, my eyes searched back down the aisles for signs of life: there was a teenage boy stocking shelves. Further on the other side of the store, the cigarette counter was being restocked by another shop worker; chatting to a third member of staff, who was clutching a set of keys and looking quite important. I made eye contact with her. “The self service tills are free” she said in a bored nasal tone, pointing to a set of computer screens.
Hmm, thanks a bloody lot.
Baby was starting to go red by now, boiling point was near. There was nothing for it but to take on another role: checkout girl: let’s just get this done! I scanned my items through and stuffed them into two flimsy plastic bags. The computer froze several times: ‘please rescan your item’; ‘please wait for assistance’; ‘unexpected item in the fucking bagging area’…By now, baby was red hot in her fluffy winter coat and the dummy I pressed into her mouth was duly cast like a bullet into the chocolate shelf. I grabbed the flying dummy – and a chocolate bar at the same time – and continued to pursue this ridiculous task. Every time I messed up, Mrs I Am Very Important With My Keys would approach the computer and correct it for me with an air of the highest authority. After what seemed forever, my shopping was complete. ‘Do you have a club card?’ asked the computer. ‘Yes but I can’t be arsed to get it out’ I retorted. ‘Please enter the amount of bags used’: ‘2’. ‘You will now be charged for the bags’. ‘And lovely bags they are too’, I replied, getting a strange look from the girl next to me about to enter self-service hell. Oh – she also had a baby! A fellow inhabitant! “It’s so difficult doing this with children,” I rattled, “I will shop online next time.” She smiled sympathetically and turned away.
Ok, maybe it’s just me.
I manoeuvred my shopping into the bottom of the pram just before the over-packed-5p-thin-as-a-nappy-sack bags split in half, and walked out of the dark and into the sun, chomping my chocolate bar and smiling at my babe who had finally gone back to sleep.
….now, I think I remembered to take my card out of the chip & pin device…
Mummy Rules x