The Costco Fiasco
Yesterday was the most terrifying experience of my entire life. My run of the mill trip to the grocery store became a death-defying feat for the littlest McDonald.
I am a Sam’s Club fan, however, since our membership was about to expire, I thought I’d join my sister for her shopping trip to Costco and see if I was missing out on any great deals that my (cheaper) membership didn’t include. Since I was on maternity leave, we decided to go during the day. We had both Mason and my tiny Malia with us. Now, any mom knows that taking your little ones on a grocery-shopping trip always proves to be disastrous; but, come on, it’s Costco: oversized baskets and snacks for Mason along the way, what could go wrong, right?
The beginning of the trip was great. I used my awesome car seat/stroller combo to glide Malia around the store, and Mason sat shotgun in my sisters’ basket. I decided to pass on my own basket, as I was simply browsing. Mason was being such a good boy. He was, waving to the other shoppers, introducing himself to elderly women and showering his Aunty Nan with compliments.
As we meandered the isles, I couldn’t help but think that my sister was getting totally ripped off. Sure, Costco has more organic options, but really, who eats organic these days anyway? Our family definitely prefers cheaper, crappier food. As the older sister, I was setting a great example: cheaper is better.
That was until we got to the diaper isle.
$24.99 for a box of 160 diapers? Huggies no less? I pay almost double for those at Sam’s! Ludicrous!
I didn’t grab the diapers right away. How could I? That would be admitting defeat. I walked away and grabbed a sample Bagel Bite to distract me from the deal of the century. We finished shopping and decided to have bite to eat. Just as my sister and I were packing up to leave, I saw two ladies stroll by with a box of the sale diapers. One remarked to the other what a great deal it was and said something like, “No one can pass that up!”
She’s right.
There I was heading to the back of the store to get the sacred diapers. As I was departing, Mason ran up behind me and asked to come with. Initially, I thought it wasn’t a good idea, but then remembered that Malia was now 7 weeks old and I had this whole mom-of-two-thing down pat.
I took Mason by the hand and had my other hand pushing the stroller. Imagine my dilemma when I arrived at isle 32 and discovered I had no way to get the diapers from the back of the store to the front. I decided the only way to accomplish this feat was to let go of my three year olds’ hand and carry the box of diapers while he walked beside me. After I had my plan in place, I decided to add a twenty pound box of sale wipes onto the top of the stroller.
Normally, all of this would have been okay as long as my three year old was full, had napped and was one hundred percent obedient at all times.
I looked totally ridiculous. I was pushing a stroller with a box of wipes on top, holding a box of 160 count diapers and yelling across the store to my three year old that had sprinted to the nearest sample station. Just before his little hands could grab a White Castle burger, I swiftly tugged his arm and gave him the reprimand of a lifetime, ending with “You put your hands on this stroller, and don’t move!” He did just as I told him.
Then, as if in slow motion, I watch Mason hulk the stroller in a downward motion. Instantly, the box of wipes went skidding across the floor. I could see the horror on Mason’s face as the stroller flipped completely upside down. Our full drink cups-from our $1.50 pizza and soda combo- busted wide open leaving me ice skating and scrambling to retrieve my screaming, terrified baby.
A state of panic broke out. Strangers began running to my rescue while the little-old-lady-sample-giver screamed frantically about Malia. After I had gained my composure, I carefully turned the stroller right-side up, quickly unbuckled Malia, checked her over, and once she was snuggled close to me, fell back asleep.
By this time Mason was a hot, un-napped mess. He was crying, shaking and babbling about the whole thing being an accident. I calmed him down and picked up my belongings. I piled the diapers and wipes in the stroller, held Malia close, grabbed Mason’s hand and ran as fast as I could to the checkout line to find my sister.
When I finally checked out, my sister came sauntering towards us, joking about us getting lost. That’s when it happened. The ugly cry: the chest heaving, snot draining from my nose, eyes closed so tight you can only see my eyebrows kind of cry. It went a little something like this. My sister was both horrified and confused as to what had just transpired. She took the baby and I choked out the details of the terrifying experience.
On the drive home I began processing the whole event and came up with a few lessons learned: 1. Don’t be too cocky about motherhood, 2. Three year olds are better when they are strapped down to a cart, 3. Always, always, always buckle your baby in their car seat, last, but not least: sometimes I miss working.
Mason and Malia in the parking lot of Costco
before our fiasco
