Kidless Adventures in Shopping

Have you noticed how different shopping can be when you have no children with you? Now that baby boy is 6 and has decided that he isn't an actual appendage of mom, I've had quite a few kid free store trips. Of course, some of these might have involved super stealth sneaking out of the house with the keys clutched tightly in my hands to prevent any jingling noise  from escaping and alerting the fruit of my loins that I'm daring to try and escape the house without including them. To-may-to, to-mah-to.

When you take kids to the store, it's as if you mentally gird your loins (How often can you find a use for that twice in two consecutive paragraphs?). You know what's coming. I don't care how well behaved your spawn is. The magical thrall of the grocery store compels them to ask for sweets and cereals and candy oh my! These devious miniature lawyers will sense any small hesitation and pounce like a cheetah, negotiating skills at the ready with their barrage of "Pleeeeease!" with "Pretty pleeeeeeease?" and bartering extra "I'll be good" time for just one treat. Of course, they also sweeten the pot with their promises of "I won't ask for anything else! I Promise!" Which they promptly break five minutes later when you go down a new aisle and they see that super awesome fruit snack that was just advertised 82 times in an hour show. (Way to cram that brand name into their heads ad executives!)

If I have kids with me, I always spend my time alternating between saying an emphatic "No!" to their multiple requests for sugary sustenance and mediating arguments about who picked out the cereal/drinks/substitute whatever the frick (It's not a real word spell check, get over it!) product here. There's also a lot of mental mediation going on. And some pep talks. For myself. To try and not strangle my kids in public. Or pull out all of my hair. Or both. I end up trying to do a marathon sprint through the store because the quicker we are done, the quicker we can leave.

Now, if you subtract those kids from that equation? I can lolly gag. (Do you just love that word?) I can waste all sorts of time looking at things. In quiet. No squabbling or choruses of "Can I push the cart?" No one wants Little Sugar Cakes of Hyperglycemia. I look like a normal, non-mom type of professional woman. Is this heaven? Because there's chocolate, coffee, and books. I think it's probably heaven.

On the other hand, not having those children with me is pretty darn dangerous. I have time to add things to the cart that I don't need but look pretty darn good. (Which probably translates to "will add 5 pounds") With kids it's a dash to the finish line. Only grab essentials, do not pass go, do not collect your receipt. But now I'm perusing. I have half as much chaos without the kids but I spend twice as much money.

So then I think, "I just have to be clever. I won't use a cart. I only need 3 things, I can carry that." Which turns into eight things, balanced precariously on a leaning tower of groceries, cradled in my arms. Meanwhile, the purse is a dead weight on my left arm, I'm wondering when I started carrying 20 pound weights in there, and the people in front of me apparently can't read "Express Lane: 20 Items or Less".

So for the peace of shopping without kids I get to come home with spaghetti arms. On the upside, I got to indulge in one of my guilty pleasures while waiting and got caught up on celebrity gossip. Did you hear about Princess Kate........