Yes. We Bought Groceries During The Denver Game.

Hubs and I did the major haul at the grocery store this afternoon.

It was the haul that involved WE ARE OUT OF EVERYTHING, FROM YOGURT TO TOOTHPASTE.  And it was true; the light in our refrigerator shone as bright as the sun, because there wasn’t a single item on any of the shelves to cause an eclipse.

Of course, spending any time in the giant super center called Walmart on a weekend is not our first choice of HOW TO SPEND YOUR DAY, but listen.  Hubs had every intention of watching the Broncos’ game, and I’ll admit, I was going to sit beside him on the sofa and talk straight through the game, which is what I normally do.  But then Hubs couldn’t find the Bronco game on TV.  He scrolled through channels; he scrolled through times; he double-checked and triple-checked Denver’s schedule online.  And then he had a meltdown that was very similar to something Thing 2 can put on display.  I believe his exact words were, “Hashtag, ANNOYED!  Hashtag, VERYANGRY!  Hashtag, IHATECBS!”

Knowing that there were other ways to catch the game, Hubs turned on the radio and decided to listen to the game exactly like Abraham Lincoln used to do by candlelight on Sunday evenings in his log cabin.

And then our radio station went off the air, with a recorded message that said, “Please understand that we are experiencing technical difficulties.”

Hubs threw his arms high into the air and hollered, “Why does the world hate me today?!”

And that’s when he decided to go outside and talk to the neighbor.

Being the good wife that I am, I turned the TV back on, scrolled through a few channels, and found the Broncos’ football game on an obscure channel that we never watch.  I punched the RECORD button on the DVR.  It was exactly like the game of life was tied, and I ran the ball in for a 99-yard touchdown.  When Hubs came back inside, I let him know that I was a little more than just a trophy wife; I was very useful, in fact, and YOU’RE WELCOME, BECAUSE I FOUND THE GAME.

(Dear Hubs, I know that this is worth a grande, no-water chai latte from Starbucks.)

(Dear Hubs, HINT HINT!)

With the game recording and already in the second quarter, I gathered up my keys and decided to lay on the grenade called MAJOR GROCERY TRIP ON A WEEKEND.  And Hubs, knowing that he really did need to be nice to me, said, “I’ll go, too; I’ll watch the game when we get back home.”

Which is the long version of how we came to be shopping for an enormous cart filled with everything while the Denver Broncos were in action.

Hubs and I ripped the shopping list in half.  We each took a cart.  And I don’t mean to brag, but I’m pretty sure we set a new record for MOST THINGS PURCHASED AT WALMART IN THE SHORTEST AMOUNT OF TIME.  Had it been a game show, we would have been standing under that part of the ceiling that opens up and pours confetti all over your heads while bells and whistles rang.

At one point, I was trying to find a can of cream of onion soup and striking out, because CREAM OF ONION?  Seriously?  Apparently the answer is YES, because this new recipe calls for it, but we’re going to substitute cream of chicken, because that’s what our super center had to offer me today.  Cream of chicken… cream of mushroom… cream of celery… even cream of shrimp, which made me gag a little, because there are some things that should never be creamed.  Shellfish is one of them.  Wild game also comes to mind, because CREAM OF ELK?  Pass.

Anyway.

(Was I rambling?)

I pulled my cart up next to a woman with a little boy of about four in her cart.  They were pulling chicken noodle soup cans off the shelves.  I heard him say, “Mommy, this is taking a long time to get groceries.”  She told him, “I know, and I’m so sorry.  We just need a few more things.  But listen!  We can make the time go a whole lot faster if we talk to each other.  What would you like to talk about, honey?”

And that is when lightning struck, and I realized that I am flunking the class called SHOPPING WITH CHILDREN.  Do you know what I say when I have kids hanging off of my cart, while I’m trying to fill it with groceries?  I say things like, “No!  We are not getting pudding cups!  Put them back!  Don’t stand up in the cart!  You’re going to fall and snap your neck in half!  No!  We are not getting a six-pack of Hershey’s!  No!  You can’t go look at the Legos!  Sit down!  Sit down right this second!  If you scream, I will walk away from the cart and pretend I don’t know you!  Sit back down!  Put the pudding cups back!  I said no chocolate candy bars!”

By the time I’m done shopping, my hair is usually falling out of my ponytail, I’ve usually created more sweat than my Secret can handle, and I’m ready for Calgon and wine.

Does this make me a bad parent?

I assume the answer is YES, but listen.  I’m totally a good wife, because I found that Denver game on TV.

(And this is where Hubs wants me to announce that his Broncos are now 6 and 0, and his Avalanche are now 5 and 0.  He wants everyone to know that THIS IS THE BEST FALL SEASON OF HIS ENTIRE LIFE SO FAR, and that he is on an eleven-game winning streak.)

(Hashtag, GREATWIFE!  Hashtag, WINWINWIN!  Hashtag, UNDEFEATED!  Hashtag, BETTERTHANCHRISTMAS!  Hashtag, PUTTHEPUDDINGBACK!)

Y’all have a merry Sunday evening.

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