This is one for the ages.
This will be one of the those stories that I tell my grandkids when they wild out and their mom, my daughter, fusses at them. In all my grandmotherly glory, I will scoop up said grandchild and whisper to them, “Oh, you want to hear about your mom when she was your age?” Because that is what grandmas do. Grandmas, back me up on this.
And this moment of conspiratorial glee between myself and my future grandchild will justify all the pain and sorrow my children put me through at Costco on October 16, 2020. It has to.
As you know, since the rumpus, I go to Costco once a month. Mr. B and the Teacup drive with me, because it is far away. The big two are in preschool and elementary school, respectively. Whilst I shop, Mr. B and the Teacup get a treat from the Starbucks drive thru nearby and they watch an animated Disney classic in the car. When the shopping is complete, I trudge to the car with a cart ladden with goods. Mr. B snaps a photo for blogging purposes. We load up, drive home, and that is what’s up. Shopping rarely takes more than an hour.
On this fated day in October, both of my children’s schools were on Fall Break. So we took them with us to Costco. We thought nothing of us this, because we had done it before, in the early rumpus. The trip was chugging along like normal. I was about 3/4 done when I got to the pharmacy. We needed some sharps, so I joined the line. It was two people deep, which wasn’t that bad, even considering there appeared to only be one pharmacist working.
I pulled out my phone to check Shopkick and Ibotta, making sure I wasn’t missing any good deals or scans. And because I was so heavily invested in the savings it all, I neglected to notice that nearly ten minutes had gone by and the line hadn’t moved at all. How could this be? I saw the pharmacist helping people. But the two people in front on me were doing nothing. They were still as statues. Had I wandered into some kind of Narnia situation where these were not actual Costco shoppers, but frozen Costco shoppers who had endured the wrath of the White Witch? I peered around. To my left, a tower of protein powder, at least 6 feet high. To my right, crates of granola bars, as far as the eye could see. What was I missing?
By now it had been 15 minutes. Leaving my cart with the statues, I rounded the corner to behold another line, of living, breathing people. These were the people who were being helped by the pharmacist. I had been in the wrong line the whole time and the statues never bothered to tell me, because statues cannot speak. It’s not their fault.
So I joined the new line. Problem solved, right?
Wrong! Problem not solved. This line was about seven people deep and each person appeared to have never been to a pharmacy before. I’m now thirty minutes into my pharmacy wait time and I get this text.
MR. B: We have a problem
ME: YUP. This pharmacy line.
MR. B: Okay, we have another problem.
ME: No, thank you. I have enough problems.
MR. B: The big two have to go to the bathroom.
ME: Okay. Can you bring them in?
MR. B: I forgot the masks.
Only in rumpus time, friends!
I abandon my place in line. I grab a box of disposable masks and hightail it to the register, all the while Mr. B implores me by text to hurry, things are getting dicey out there. I pay for the masks and whatever else I have in my cart. I fly to the car on eagle’s wings. Strap a mask on each of my children’s faces and watch as my husband runs with them into the Costco. I begin shifting through the cart, making mental notes of the things I wasn’t able to buy, doing the intellectual gymnastics of trying to determine if we missed an essential or a luxury. We can get through a month without popcorn. Toilet paper, not so much. The Teacup is in the backseat, singing along to “Into the Unknown” and munching on a chicken nugget. Life is good for her.
Then I see Mr. B approach, one girl on each arm. All three have Eeyore faces, so I fear the worst. “What happened?” I implore the second he is within shouting distance.
“I was a trick!” He calls back. “They tricked us!”
Turns out they didn’t need the restroom at all. They just wanted to go inside.
The deviousness! The chicanery! My own children, y’all! My two little princesses. Tricked! Fleeced! Bamboozled!
I’ve gone through the five stages of grief by the time they get to the car. My husband apologizes, though he did nothing wrong. The children apologize. I forgive them. They forgive me, even though I did nothing wrong. The baby sings off-key and we all have a good laugh about mom running through Costco for on reason at all, hahaha. That’s right children, laugh it up. I shall have my revenge. One day, 20 years in the future when you have children of your own. And you’ll never see it coming.
Batteries. $16.99. No one tells you, when you have children, just how many batteries you’ll be purchasing. Holiday shopping tip: don’t buy the kids in your life any new toys. Just buy them batteries and then all the toys that their parents have stopped feeding batteries into will seem like new again!
Assorted 30 count chocolate box $14.99. We abstained from trick-or-treating this year. So I just bought my kids the candy I knew they liked as we all enjoyed a bonfire with Reese’s s’mores. This is the way to go. I don’t know if I’ll ever go back to letting strangers decide my candy intake again! I mean…my children’s candy intake.
These masks. (Please imagine me saying that in my best exasperated mom voice. Thank you.) $11.99 for 50. It ends up being 23 cents a mask. Or, in my case, about $3.99 a mask. :/
Carrots! Six pounds for $4.99.
I bought the wrong ones. Here’s what happened. My Frying Pan is obsessed with these vitamins. On the way to Costco, she reminded me about the vitamins no less than 17 times. But of course, I found myself near the vitamins only as I was dashing out of the pharmacy with the masks. Not wanting to get in trouble with a persnickety five year old, I grabbed the first bottle of vitamins that looked even remotely orange. That I got the wrong ones is no surprise. These were $13.99.
Five pack of toothpaste is $12.99, so $2.59 per tube.
Salsa! $5.99 for a jar that tastes like a spicier version of Chili’s salsa. Sold!
Okay, so remember that Halloween bonfire I told you about? I have never roast hot dogs in the great outdoors, but if my husband was already building a fire, why not? $13.99 for three packs of 12 dogs, so $4.66 a pack. Or $.38 a dog. Also, now is a good time to mention, we have an actual fire pit in our backyard. We’re not just lighting leaves aflame without a plan.
Shall I compare thee to a white bag of chocolate chips? Thou are neither as semi-sweet or as high in percentage of vanilla. Poetry! $9.99.
Pumpkin Streusel muffins. I’m addicted to Costco muffins. Two giant six packs for $7.99. That’s $.65 a muffin, which is waaaay cheaper than Starbucks.
44 bags of gourmet popping corn cost me $9.99. That’s $.22 a bag. Cheaper than Starbucks. If Starbucks sold popcorn.
You’ll notice this trip did not have the usual “KB stands at the car with all her groceries” pic. Because we didn’t take that picture. Because of PottyMaskGate. Please accept this picture of me embracing toilet paper, something I never would have done before 2020 but I find myself doing a LOT recently.
Have your children ever pranked you at the grocery store? Have you had a potty emergency at the store? Do you fantasize about the day when your children have children? Tell me all the tales in the comments!
Kristen B. is wife to the best Prince around, mama to the spunkiest little princesses, and lover of all things Disney. She started her savings journey three years ago and is now dedicated to making her family’s wishes come true one coupon at a time. She is so excited to take her love of saving to the next level and share her journey with you! Click here to catch up on Kristen’s Savings and join in on your own savings adventure!