When a man goes to the grocery store.

I want to discuss this text conversation I had with my husband person. Can I get a huge AMEN here:

When you find out your man is at the store, you immediately think of 3,987 things you need him to pick up for you in order to avoid taking any children with you for said things.

The grocery store is a scary place with alcohol you cannot open and drink while you shop.  Hey Food lion , you would get a lot more of my monies if I was drinking Chardonnay while my 4 year old begged for honey buns that she knows I won’t buy because I feed her healthy things like the goldfish she’s currently eating. I would even bring my own glass and opener. Party on aisle 4 for sanity reasons.

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For real, Matt loves when I send him my list of grocery items he has no idea where to find. His complaint is usually ” There like a mile apart from each other.”  Welcome to my life. I know the grocery store like the back of my hand. After all, I am there daily for the three things I forgot yesterday and clearance wine.

I remember as a child, my Mom would send my Dad to the store and he would come home with items she would never dream of purchasing. For the most part we were thrilled with the weird items. I always noticed he bought things my Mom hated, which I don’t blame him. I mean, if matt did all the shopping I would never get dry shampoo.

After the picture I did not send him, because after a fourth baby I look like a busted can of biscuits trying to fit into Juniors clothing. Each fat cell holding on for dear life as I eat more and more crap I shouldn’t be eating, but you know.. breastfeeding. You can find me in a wet suit this Summer with a beer in my hand.

His selection was that of various forms of Ramen noodles,  mangos and pickled okra. I swear he isn’t pregnant, I just had him tested.

When the kids went looking in the pantry the next morning for cereal, there were great eruptions of celebration that MOM HAD FINALLY GOTTEN RAMEN NOODLES AND THESE COOL CUPS THAT YOU PUT IN THE MICROWAVE.

Screw mom’s steel cut oats. They taste like shit.

It’s my theory that he is trying to overrule me in the kitchen, and to that I say, please do bro. I’ve spent over a decade trying to feed everyone healthy stuff, all the while treading water holding babies.

I still try my best to feed these tiny people nutritious foods, but this is my white flag. There are too many of them to manage everything that goes into their mouths. Like, I don’t have a business management degree.

After four kids talk of salsa gets us all hot and spicy. Then we have to take a bath to cool off so we don’t reproduce again. That would require more groceries.

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