I am getting a chest freezer.
It has become a necessity. Suddenly we are really eating like a family of five. I am making mid-week runs to Stop & Shop for frozen waffles and there is no place to shove these morning-meltdown-saving disks of joy in our existing freezer.
Oh giant potato-sack-sized bags of Doritos, how could we have ever let you go?
Saturday, I loaded up the Ladies and we headed out to run a few errands.
Let's just admit that Costco on a Saturday is a full-blown shit show. I miss those days of shopping at 10 a.m. on a Tuesday, where all I had to do was battle the blue-hairs.
First stop was the customer service desk, where a very friendly customer representative must have said "welcome back" to me like six times. Hey, I appreciate it but that guy also knows I am not leaving there without blowing at least a buck fifty on toilet paper.
Next stop, pick up the cart and head through those double-doors of possibility. The good thing about Costco is that they have double kid seats in the front. This is great when you have more than one kid. Not so great when one of those kids weighs 45lbs and is like super tall. So, I put the Little Lady in first and then tried to squish the Lady into the seat next to her but the Lady's legs are too long and she is having a hard time getting her foot through the opening and the Little Lady is complaining that she is getting squeezed and it is super windy and my arms strength can only be compared to that of a jellyfish, so things aren't starting out that great.
The Lady is so tall I can't see over her.
Costco -- look out because I cannot see the end of the cart in front of me and I have no idea where anything is because we haven't been to this store in like two years.
Did I mention I didn't make any list and we aren't getting the freezer until mid-week so I am not even buying the gigantic box of like 900 waffles?
Hmmm. . . what do we need?
Is it me or are people just terribly ignorant of their surroundings? By all means, just stop right in the middle of the aisle when there are like three people with giant carts filled with bulk produce, granola bars and underwear piling up behind you.
We did need to buy a few snacks for the Lady's classroom. We also needed milk and wipes. QT is still a wee bit away from wiping his own moon and there is nothing, nothing worse than realizing that you have an almost two-year-old with poop pants and no wipes left in the house.
We took two laps around the giant playground assembled in the middle of the store. We grabbed some strawberries and some juice boxes. Loaded up on pretzels and veggie sticks. The Lady insisted that she wanted SunnyD. A product I am almost 100% sure she has never had. There was no way I was going to buy a case of SunnyD, in fact she had a better chance of me buying the purple stuff.
The Little Lady wanted mini hot dogs, something we passed by at one point, but she wasn't sure where. After three trips around the refrigerated section she found the box she had seen. Little Lady, there is no way I am buying 80 pigs in the blanket for you.
I forgot about the magic of Costco. That feeling of possibility, the feeling that you may at some point actually need 72oz of ranch dressing, three pounds of deli meat and 182 slices of bread. The delight one feels lifting whatever they are scooping into those little muffin liners and shoving it directly into your face.
We loaded up the cart with a couple of Hanna Anderson dresses, the wipes, some school snacks and that giant bag of Doritios for dad and we headed towards the checkout. It amazes me how you can feel like you have a cart full of stuff and still feel like you didn't get enough. Should I have gotten the Vanity Fair napkins? A tub of vitagummies? Perhaps a canoe. The possibilities at that store are endless. Once that freezer comes I say bring on the pigs in the blanket, the boxes upon boxes of waffles, bring on the bulk. We welcome it.
Welcome back. Welcome back indeed.