In case you're wondering, baked beans are on sale this week at Bi-Lo. I made this discovery after pummeling into the display shelf that housed the canned beans with my rocket ship grocery cart. Feeling helpless, I watched as 40+ cans fell in a slow motion type fashion onto the floor and into my cart.
"Well, crap." Distress flooded through me as I stared dumbfounded at the mass of cans. When I realized that the store was officially void of a good Samaritan, I began to re-stock the blasted shelves. As my awkward pregnant self tackled the project solo, I realized that I didn't feel bad one bit that most of the cans were now dented. In fact, the burgeoning couponer within hoped that all future bean shoppers would be awarded an additional discount due to their imperfect form. To them I say, "You're welcome."
The fun continued when my body informed me of its urgent need to use the bathroom. Gritting my teeth, I pushed open the public bathroom (*shudder) door with my little ducklings in tow. Exercising my right for privacy, I didn't invite them into the stall.
"Stay by the sink" I instructed. "Please don't touch anything. Especially if it's wet." Two seconds later,
"Mom! I have to go potty too!" Grateful for her bathroom independence, I give Eliza the green light to help herself to the remaining loo.
"Henry! Do not come in. I need my privacy." Eliza hollered. Ignoring his second Mother, Henry continued to spin in circles. Satisfied with his lack of attention, she and I began conversing on the serious topic of bowel movements from our respective stalls.
Having already crossing the line of "over-share" in this post, I'll just say that her questions were in-depth and I took my time in answering them. I provided her with the personal detail she may (or may not) have wanted in my poop-related responses. A minute or so later, I exit the stall and discover that another shopper had entered the bathroom, was waiting to use my stall and just heard our entire crap-inspired conversation.
I was horrified.
"Well, crap." I thought. I quickly turned my attention to Eliza's need for toilet paper as I graciously allowed the stranger passage into the stall I had just exited. I wanted to bury myself alive for a second time that hour.
Needless to say, I'm ready to leave all this crap behind (pun intended) and enjoy the weekend. We're cooking up something special for our kids and I can't wait. Happy Labor Day weekend one and all.