Admittedly, the last time I was in the grocery store the leaves were changing colors. But really, I was largely pregnant, buying apples by the barrel at least once per week and having the requisite conversations with the check out ladies about labor and such.
Apparently, I have long since been forgotten.
Yesterday I ventured into Stop & Shop and did my usual lousy job shopping. I do okay in the sections where they sell actual food. Those perimeter areas where food is food, or at least the boxes have pictures of the meal you'll be nuking. Frozen aisles... check. Produce... check. It's the area in the heart of the store - those rows and rows of ingredients that perplex me. I can skip the middle twenty or so aisles because, really - to concoct something seems beyond me at the time.
I'll confess, I looked at my cart and contemplated self checkout. Let's face it, something about a purchase mainly consisting of cold cereal, a half-dozen lemon poppy muffins and a loaf of banana bread kinda screams, "Take care of this yourself". But no. I found myself loading my umpteen boxes of cereal onto the belt as they inched towards my old friends.
I smiled in case the cashier lady recognized me.
She did not.
The bagger then gave me the standard check-out comment that I wait for. "Wow, your kids must really like cereal." To which I smile and get busy swiping my debit card through the machine thingy.
Unfortunatley, my one box of Rice Krispies too many pushed her onward. "How many do you have?"
"Oh, just one - but she's a newborn - so cereal is all we're eating these days." I laughed. She squinted. All I saw was Kellogs. The moment was made more awkward as she continued bagging and grabbed my pop tarts.
It's always been clear that I need help shopping. I was often accused of having kids long before having them, and seriously, the one I have dines on formula so she doesn't count. Apparently I eat like a seven year old. This concerns me for many reasons, not the least of which is that in eight short years, my child's nutritional needs will outgrow my own.
Perhaps I'll hire a nanny that can cook?