Laugh for the day

This is the text from an active Ebay auction. For the most part I have my kids pretty well trained for the grocery store jazz BUT I rarely take all of them. I 100% know how this mom feels and she is so funny about the whole thing:

******I'm selling a bunch of Pokemon cards. Why? Because my kids sneaked them into my shopping cart while at the grocery store and I ended up buying them because I didn't notice they were there until we got home. How could I have possibly not noticed they were in my cart, you ask? Let me explain.

You havenít lived until youíve gone grocery shopping with six kids in tow. I would rather swim, covered in bait, through the English Channel, be a contestant on Fear Factor when theyíre having pig brains for lunch, or do fourth grade math than to take my six kids to the grocery store. Because I absolutely detest grocery shopping, I tend to put it off as long as possible. There comes a time, however, when youíre peering into your fridge and thinking, ëHmmm, what can I make with ketchup, Italian dressing, and half an onion,í that you decide you cannot avoid going to the grocery store any longer. Before beginning this most treacherous mission, I gather all the kids together and give them ìThe Lectureì.

ìThe Lectureì goes like thisÖ

MOM: ìWe have to go to the grocery store.î

KIDS: ìWhine whine whine whine whine.ì

MOM: ìHey, I donít want to go either, but itís either that or weíre eating cream of onion-ketchup soup and drinking Italian dressing for dinner tonight.î

KIDS: ìWhine whine whine whine whine.ì

MOM: ìNow here are the rules: do not ask me for anything, do not poke the packages of meat in the butcher section, do not test the laws of physics and try to take out the bottom can in the pyramid shaped display, do not play baseball with oranges in the produce section, and most importantly, do not try to leave your brother at the store. Again.î

OK, the kids have been briefed. Time to go.

Once at the store, we grab not one, but two shopping carts. I wear the baby in a sling and the two little children sit in the carts while I push one cart and my oldest son pushes the other one. My oldest daughter is not allowed to push a cart. Ever. Why? Because the last time I let her push the cart, she smashed into my ankles so many times, my feet had to be amputated by the end of our shopping trip. This is not a good thing. You try running after a toddler with no feet sometime.

At this point, a woman looks at our two carts and asks me, ìAre they all yours?î I answer good naturedly, ìYep!

ìOh my, you have your hands full.î

ìYes, I do, but itës fun!î I say smiling. Iíve heard all this before. In fact, I hear it every time I go anywhere with my brood.

We begin in the produce section where all these wonderfully, artistically arranged pyramids of fruit stand. There is something so irresistibly appealing about the apple on the bottom of the pile, that a child cannot help but try to touch it. Much like a bug to a zapper, the child is drawn to this piece of fruit. I turn around to the sounds of apples cascading down the display and onto the floor. Like Indiana Jones, there stands my son holding the all-consuming treasure that he just HAD to get and gazing at me with this dumbfounded look as if to say, ìDid you see that??? Wow! I never thought that would happen!î

I give the offending child an exasperated sigh and say, ìDidnít I tell you, before we left, that I didnít want you taking stuff from the bottom of the pile???î

ìNo. You said that you didnít want us to take a can from the bottom of the pile. You didnít say anything about apples.î

With superhuman effort, I resist the urge to send my child to the moon and instead focus on the positive - my child actually listened to me and remembered what I said!!! I make a mental note to be a little more specific the next time I give the kids The Grocery Store Lecture.

A little old man looks at all of us and says, ìAre all of those your kids?î

Thinking about the apple incident, I reply, ìNope. They just started following me. Iíve never seen them before in my life.î

OK, now onto the bakery section where everything smells so good, Iím tempted to fill my cart with cookies and call it a day. Being on a perpetual diet, I try to hurry past the assortment of pies, cakes, breads, and pastries that have my children drooling. At this point the chorus of ìCan we getsî begins.

ìCan we get donuts?î

ìNo.î

ìCan we get cupcakes?î

ìNo.î

ìCan we get muffins?î

ìNo.î

ìCan we get pie?î

ìNo.î

Youíd think theyíd catch on by this point, but no, theyíre just getting started.

In the bakery, theyíre giving away free samples of coffee cake and of course, my kids all take one. The toddler decides he doesnít like it and proceeds to spit it out in my hand. (Thatís what moms do. We put our hands in front of our childrenís mouths so they can spit stuff into them. Weíd rather carry around a handful of chewed up coffee cake, than to have the child spit it out onto the floor. Iím not sure why this is, but ask any mom and sheíll tell you the same.) Of course, thereís no garbage can around, so I continue shopping one-handed while searching for someplace to dispose of the regurgitated mess in my hand.

In the meat department, a mother with one small baby asks me, ìWow! Are all six yours?î

I answer her, ìYes, but Iím thinking of selling a couple of them.î

(Still searching for a garbage can at this point.)

Ok, after the meat department, my kidsí attention spans are spent. Theyíre done shopping at this point, but we arenít even halfway through the store. This is about the time they like to start having shopping cart races. And who may I thank for teaching them this fun pastime? My seventh ìchildî, also known as my husband. While Iím picking out loaves of bread, the kids are running down the aisle behind the carts in an effort to get us kicked out of the store. I put to stop to that just as my son is about to crash head on into a giant cardboard cut-out of a Keebler elf stacked with packages of cookies.

Ah! Yes! I find a small trash can by the coffee machine in the cereal aisle and finally dump out the squishy contents of my hand. After standing in the cereal aisle for an hour and a half while the kids perused the various cereals, comparing the marshmallow and cheap, plastic toy content of each box, I broke down and let them each pick out a box. At any given time, we have twenty open boxes of cereal in my house.

As this is going on, my toddler is playing Houdini and maneuvering his little body out of the seat belt in an attempt to stand up in the cart. Iím amazed the kid made it to his second birthday without suffering a brain damaging head injury. In between trying to flip himself out of the cart, he sucks on the metal bars of the shopping cart. Mmmm, can you say ìinfluenzaî?

The shopping trip continues much like this. I break up fights between the kids now and then and stoop down to pick up items that the toddler has flung out of the cart. I desperately try to get everything on my list without adding too many other goodies to the carts.

Somehow I manage to complete my shopping in under four hours and head for the check-outs where my kids start in on a chorus of, ìCan we have candy?î What evil minded person decided it would be a good idea to put a display of candy in the check-out lanes, right at a childís eye level? Obviously someone who has never been shopping with children.

As I unload the carts, I notice many extra items that my kids have sneaked in the carts unbeknownst to me. I remove a box of Twinkies, a package of cupcakes, a bag of candy, and a can of cat food (we donít even have a cat!). I somehow missed the box of Pokemon cards however and ended up purchasing them unbeknownst to me. As I pay for my purchases, the clerk looks at me, indicates my kids, and asks, ìAre they all yours?î

Frustrated, exhausted from my trip, sick to my stomach from writing out a check for $289.53, dreading unloading all the groceries and putting them away and tired of hearing that question, I look at the clerk and answer her in my most sarcastic voice, ìNo. Theyíre not mine. I just go around the neighborhood gathering up kids to take to the grocery store because itís so much more fun that way.î

So, up for auction is an opened (they ripped open the box on the way home from the store) package of Pokemon cards. There are 44 cards total. They're in perfect condition, as I took them away from the kiddos as soon as we got home from the store. Many of them say "Energy". I tried carrying them around with me, but they didn't work. I definitely didn't have any more energy than usual. One of them is shiny. There are a few creature-like things on many of them. One is called Pupitar. Hee hee hee Pupitar! (Oh no! My kids' sense of humor is rubbing off on me!) Anyway, I don't there's anything special about any of these cards, but I'm very much not an authority on Pokemon cards. I just know that I'm not letting my kids keep these as a reward for their sneakiness.

Shipping is FREE on this item. Insurance is optional, but once I drop the package at the post office, it is no longer my responsibility. For example, if my son decides to pour a bottle of glue into the envelope, or my daughter spills a glass of juice on the package, thatís my responsibility and I will fully refund your money. If, however, I take the envelope to the post office and a disgruntled mail carrier sets fire to it, a pack of wild dogs rip into it, or a mail sorting machine shreds it, itís out of my hands, so you may want to add insurance. I will leave feedback for you as soon as Iíve received your payment. I will be happy to combine shipping on multiple items won within three days. This comes from a smoke-free, pet-free, child-filled home. Please ask me any questions before placing your bid. Happy bidding! *********

I am incessantly asked if 'they are all mine' and often 'do you run a daycare' and then of course the oh so clever folk who ask "don't you know what causes that? and "don't you own a TV?" and the ever snooty and appreciated "Are you done yet?"
Guess what folks. You aren't being original or funny every mother of many has heard it ALL before. I don't ask you personal questions, why do you think you can ask me? Once I got so fed up I looked at the person and asked "So what color is your underwear?" in response to a incredibly personal question. They just stared at me so I added "well, since you're asking me a very personal question I thought fair was fair."

I hope this mom sells her Pokemon cards for lots and lots of money and doesn't buy a TV :-)