This Is Us.

This Is Us.
This Is Us. (Couldn't Resist.)

Monday, January 26, 2009

Grocery Store Excursion: An Accident Report

(Just bring your own cart cover and child size bandages...)
Jay is now 8 months and turn 9 months next week... he's growing so tall! I was unable to squeeze him on last time his cute red jumper for church.

Here's a day-in-the-life:
I had been putting off grocery shopping last week, but we were pretty low on essentials. Jay and I head out to Super Wal-mart for some deals. I've gotten in the habit of going to the closest Kroger, but Super Wal-mart has great prices on produce. I didn't buy baby food, but my bill was lower than it usually is. I probably saved $20. And luckily it wasn't the mob scene that
Wal-mart can sometimes be. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
So, I consult Rachael Ray's website for some new recipes (I'm trying out Chicken Thigh Pie and Orzo with Tomatoes and Feta) to make my list and load Jay into the car. Once we unload and Jay situated in cart with the anti-germ-shopping-cart-I'm-a-new-suburban-mom-cover and we wheel into our new favorite discount retailer, I realize I've forgotten my conscientious list. Back out to the car to get it, and then we are off. We cruise the aisles quickly and I don't have to back track aisles, which is a rarity. However, I notice halfway into our foraging that I have blood on my sweater. Jay has somehow cut himself on the cart. And spit up on the floor. His finger is still bleeding and I have no tissue or first aid items on me. (In the car, yes). I pull out a piece of paper to hastily wipe up the spit, and we keep going. Jay is unfazed by the proceedings. When we are back in the car, I put a band-aid on and wind it around the tip of his finger... I only have regular size bandages. Do you see where this is headed?

I know there is a good chance that he may start gnawing on this bandage, but it is still bleeding, and materialist that I am, would rather not have blood all over baby and new-to-me car.

About 2 miles from home, I here rough coughing and pull over in a bank parking lot. With a "Dear Jesus...", I'm able to pull out the band-aid. I was just on his tongue. I think it was too rough to attempt swallowing at this age. We get home, throw said seat cover and baby's outfit in the wash.

Daddy comes home and suggests dinner out to enjoy the unusually warm weather. I graciously comply. We have a great dinner of wings and brownie dessert and walk the outdoor mall like the ordinary, extraordinary family we are!

Who said home life was boring?

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