Tuesday, November 19, 2013

It's Beginning to Look A Lot like Manslaughter...

I’ll admit…I like grocery shopping a little more around the holidays. What’s not to like? Chinese toilet plungers in beautiful autumn colors, pumpkin spice scented toilet paper, the first round of ugly Christmas sweaters, and some of the scariest crap you’ve ever seen in the women’s lingerie department. If you have to consider which walls are load-bearing when you plan your R-rated photo shoot as Mrs. Clause, Steve down at the Quickie Pix is gonna need a cornea transplant come Christmas morning. But at the particular store I shop at *wink wink*, the seasonal drawers hit you in the face as soon as you walk in.

It reminds me of the time the kids and I were shopping for Rae-Rae’s birthday party. We were on about our sixth trip across the store when I remember that we still needed to get some balloons. I should’ve known better, but for time’s sake, we cut through the women’s department. Bubby is walking beside me working on his Li’l Jon impression and, Rae-Rae is following close behind.

By the time I hit the poster stand with Twerkzilla’s platinum-wigged, janked up grill on the end of it, Rae-Rae has disappeared. 

Oh God, not now! Bad things happen when Rae-Rae goes to Wal-Mart!

I whip the buggy around and about fling Bubby halfway to the ‘Now that’s What I Call Mariachi’ CD’s. He flies off the buggy, snatching down 47 Spiderman t-shirts on the way.

“Baby, I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

“Huh-what? Huh-what? I’m o-kaaaaaaaaaay!”

Phew! Crap, forgot about Rae-Rae!

“Reagan? Reagan! REAGAN!!!!”

At that point, I see that devilish smile poke out from behind a rack of R-rated butt floss.

No, God, please no! Not the underwear!

“Hey, look, Mom! Party hats!”

My youngest son has found this turquoise and silver polka dotted bra in a size Volkswagen-DDD, and is wearing it on his head like earmuffs.

“Reagan! Put that back, and get over here!”

“Yes ma’am.” Shlump, shlump, shlump…

“Hey, momma, can we get some balloons?”

Oh, what a marvelous idea…so glad you thought of it, son.

So we finally make it to the party supply section, where I’m looking everywhere for the Darth Vader party plates. Thank goodness they have Darth Vader stuff! I throw a pack of Darth napkins, some light saber plates, and a six-pack of glow in the dark noise makers in the buggy.

“Ok, Reagan, we’ve got candles at home, we’ve got streamers. Do you want to get any party hats?”

Mommy brain….it’ll get you every time.

But it wasn’t this particular trip that ruined shopping for me. Rae-Rae had a long-term relationship with Darth Vader that almost landed me in the nut house.

The Halloween before that birthday, I was grocery shopping with Rae-Rae. It was in October, so we took a stroll through the aisles of Halloween crap up front.

Yeah, that is Spiderman! Oooh, that IS scary. No, it’s not real. Ok, time to check out!

He was sitting in the top area of the buggy, and was about to fall out of from trying to lean around me to see everything. He started pointing at something and yelping “Stah Whas! Stah Whas!” I turned to see what he was looking at, and sure enough, there was a large picture of Darth Vader hanging from the ceiling. I looked up at it, and just happened to glance at the man in line behind us. I wouldn’t have noticed him at all, but he was a dead ringer for Carl, the dad, on Family Matters.  It was eerie how much he looked like him!

 I turned back around, and Rae-Rae started leaning again. This time he was trying to look at the Carl-clone behind us.

“Reagan! Stop staring!”

Looking back on it, I should’ve asked him to roll over and play dead.

He peeked around me one more time, and everything started moving in slow-motion.

I see his mouth open, but I can’t get my hand over his mouth fast enough.

“Hey! You know you black like Dark Vader?”

Oh…..my…..God. I am going to be the first person to EVER be banned from Wal-Mart...AND I'm gonna get a visit from Jesse Jackson.

On a scale of mildly uncomfortable to mortified, I was at my own grave-side service.

But when your kids do something like this, what do you do? Pretend like it didn’t happen? Bust their butt? Say “Actually, he’s more like a chocolate bar than Darth Vader.”

I guess my curiosity got the best of me, ‘cuz before I know it, I’ve turned around to look at the guy. I honestly didn’t know what to do.

“I…uh…he just…uh…Star Wars…uh...sorry?!”

Thank God, this guy had a sense of humor...I think. He quietly chuckled to himself, and I’m just standing there with my mouth hanging open. This laugh either meant ‘oh, kids say the darndest things’ or ‘I’m about to knock this li’l cracker jack into next week.’

“Wow, he’s a little sport, ain’t he?”

“Yes sir, he is. Never a dull moment.”

We finally get checked out and head to the van.

Oh, this just gets better and better. Now I can’t find my keys.

I hear the car next to us chirp as someone unlocks the doors. It’s a big, shiny Lincoln, so I’m doing my best to keep the buggy away from it.

Rae-Rae, still sitting, starts waving like his arms are on fire.

“Hey! Hey!”

Wouldn’t you know it? Dark Vader drove a Lincoln Continental. 

So, if you find yourself wandering through the aisles of Wally World aimlessly, hating every minute of it, I highly recommend trying on the earmuffs in the lingerie department. And if you do, please take a picture so that you can bless everybody's hearts. 


  1. OMG, I'm crying! Please tell me this isn't a true story!

    1. Oh, I wish it weren't true, but it is. There was a good six month stretch where I'd twitch and start peeing on myself if you even mentioned taking my kids to Wal-Mart. Now I just make sure my phone is charged so I can take pictures of the madness. Thanks for stopping by!