Don't go Grocery Shopping on Wednesday

Wednesday is Senior Citizen discount day. Sometimes I forget in my weekly planning and I will pull in to the sea of Crown Victoria's in the parking lot and wonder why the store is so busy. Oh. I remember now. It's because in my little town, there are at least 10 retired citizens for every one citizen under the age of 40. And they all have to wait and shop on Wednesdays so they can get their 10% discount on Metamucil and cat food. Oh, surely I can come back another day. We can live without milk, and bread, and cereal, and, crap. I really do have to go inside. So in we go. All of us. All five of us. A small army - captain mommy and fellow soldiers gearing up for the battle that is the grocery store on old fart day.

Now, to my credit, I am good at shopping with all my kids along. It sounds like maternal suicide to go to the grocery store with a 6 year old, 2 four year olds, and a baby. But really, I manage. (you still don't believe me, do you?) The kids don't put extra food in the cart because if they do, so help me, they will never eat another fruit snack for the rest of their lives. They stay within arm's length of the cart because they know if they don't some strange person will grab them and they will never see their mommy or daddy again, ever! We even manage to make it out of the store without buying treats at the checkout line (except for my cherry coke that I hide until the very last second so that when the kids finally see it, I can say, "Oh, we already paid. maybe we'll get you something next time!")

But see, senior citizen day has an entirely new set of challenges. First, there are the old people that want to stop and tell me that all my children are beautiful and ask me their names and ages. Then, they bend down (an undertaking in itself) and say hello to each child. When my children don't answer, but simply stare with a wide eyed puzzled look on their faces (because after all, they are totally terrified of the strange people waiting to grab them and throw them in to a van to never see their family again), said old person stands back up and glares at me... implying that I really ought to teach my children some manners. But you see, nice old lady, we don't know you. We are here to buy yogurt and Popsicles, not to be interviewed by every Edith or Erma that we happen upon in the produce section.

On the other side of things, there is the old person that doesn't want to talk to us, but would rather I, my children, and every other child in a ten mile vicinity simply vaporize in to nothingness. How dare I bring those heathens in to public! And on a Wednesday, no less! Really? You don't think I should be at the grocery store? That's sad, because I come here for fun. I love shopping with four children. It's the easiest thing in the world... especially when crotchety old fogies like you are giving me nasty looks!

Why haven't I learned? Do the aisles crammed with slow moving carts and motorized grocery buggies not sufficiently deter me to stay far far away on Wednesdays?! I'm making a new commitment. No more Wednesday shopping... no matter how desperate things may seem. I dare one of my family members to drink the last of the milk on Tuesday.