Supposedly my work schedule allows me to leave at 4:30 every day.  Sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn’t, due to the deadline-intensive nature of my job.  If I have a proposal that must be submitted by close of business and I don’t have it done by 4:30, I have to stay until 5.

So Tuesday was one of the days where I did not get to leave early.  However, it was also one of the rare days when I actually needed to, since I needed to make a quick trip to the grocery store and I figured it would be easier before I picked up Miss T (her daycare closes at 5:30).  But in my infinite wisdom foolishness, I decided to go ahead and take her with me since I didn’t end up with enough time to go beforehand.

When I casually mentioned to N that I would just take Miss T and swing by the store quickly, he didn’t try to stop me.  He could have tried to save me from my own stupidity, but no.  He told me later that he knew it was a bad idea to take Miss T to a super-busy grocery store, in rush-hour traffic, after a long day at daycare, before she had dinner, and without benefit of an emergency pacifier.  HE KNEW THIS BUT DID NOT SAY STOP, YOU FOOL, BEFORE YOU DESTROY US ALL.

You see where I am going here.

At first, everything was fine.  Miss T had a snack at school shortly before I picked her up so she was in a good mood.  We got to the store and they had one of those carts with the truck on the front.  She likes to drive the truck so I thought we were golden.  And we were, until I made the mistake of selecting my first item.

How that child recognized it as yogurt is beyond me – it was a totally different brand than I usually buy.  The containers were a different size, the packaging was completely different, and I am pretty sure she can’t yet read.  But somehow SHE KNEW and when I wouldn’t immediately give her some she became PISSED.  So now I’m pushing a truck-cart through the store with a thrashing, howling  toddler in the driver’s seat.

Then I decided to compound the situation by getting the other items on my list:  string cheese and juice, two other things she easily recognizes.  Now I’m pushing a truck-cart through the store one-handed, holding a thrashing, howling toddler who wants yogurt, cheese and juice.  Preferably right this second.

I am an IDIOT.  I really should have just thrown in the towel at this point but no.  For I am of the mindset “But I’ve come this far!  Can it really get much worse?”  The answer to that is YES.  It can always get worse.

I had of course forgotten that this grocery store is insanely busy in the hour or so right after work, because it is the only one on our end of town.  The line for the self checkout was about 15 people deep, and the lines for the express lanes were not much better but unless I was willing to attempt shoplifting I didn’t have much of a choice but to join the party.  So I ended up in line behind a woman wearing a bright pink Nike track suit and perfectly matching bright pink flip-flops.  (With pom-poms.  They reminded me of a sombrero.)

So there I stand, with my unnecessarily large truck-cart that is holding three items.  I have a screaming toddler in my arms and a sheen of sweat across my forehead.  Miss T is crazily waving bye-bye while howling angrily and I am quietly pleading with her to just hang on for a few more minutes, that we’ll be done soon I promise.  I know you want to go, but just hang on.

Track Suit Woman keeps turning around to look at me.  There is one person in front of her, and TSW has 5 or 6 items in a small hand basket.  I keep bouncing Miss T on my hip and repeating - loud enough to be heard by those in the immediate vicinity – that I know she’s ready to go.  I know baby, I know, you want to go bye-bye.  I get it.  Just a couple more minutes. TSW glares at me.

Now, y’all, I live in Texas.  Our state motto is “Friendship”.  And people in this town are even friendlier than most.  I firmly believe that at this point 9 out of 10 Texans would have had sympathy and told me to go on ahead of them.  Poor baby’s ready to get home, isn’t she?  You just go right ahead, I can wait. But guess who was in front of me and Angry McScreamerson?  Texan number ten.

TSW continues to give me and my screeching heathen child the evil eye while the cashier rings up her few items.  She then pulls out her checkbook and starts slowly writing a check.  (Who uses a checkbook at the grocery store anymore?  WHO?!  Even my own mother has moved beyond that!)  Finally she finishes and hands it to the cashier.  Then she stands there and waits for the poor long-suffering (and probably newly deaf) cashier, who finally realizes that TSW is EXPECTING TO BE HANDED HER BAGS.  BECAUSE IT WOULD BE TOO MUCH EFFORT TO REACH FOR THEM HERSELF.

By now I am sweating like a pig, Miss T is wailing, arching her back and wanting to be let down, the old man behind us is pointedly avoiding eye contact with the crazy woman and her unruly child, and every college student in the store is refilling their birth control prescription.  And it took all of my willpower – literally every last ounce of strength in my body – to not scream at TSW as she was finally walking away:  GOOD RIDDANCE YOU STUPID FILTHY WHORE.

But I didn’t.  And good thing too because that’s the only store in town that carries my favorite kind of frozen pizza.