Wednesday, July 31, 2013

The Insanity of School Supply Shopping

The 
Despite the cooler temps, we visited the Monon Aquatic Center with Memaw, Papa, and cousins. 


 The older two boys and I hit the FlowRider, a surf simulator ride.  (Note:  I am the only one old enough to have a driver's license in the line.)





The reason adults opt out of the surf simulator ride: the next day I could barely move!

 Some kids prefer to spend their water park time this way...
 Papa gravitated to the Lazy River over the water slides.  Go figure.
Cooper desperately tried to reach the 48" height requirement for the mega water slides.  He stood on his tiptoes and stretched out his back.  The hard-nosed life guards wouldn't budge!
Fun was had by all.

If the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result, than I'm insane.  Absolutely crazy.

Exhibit A:  school supply shopping.

This is the umpteenth year in a row where I approached school supply shopping with optimism.  I insisted on including the boys in the purchasing process believing a trip down the Crayola aisle would collectively raise excitement about the upcoming school year.

I imagined the experience to be exciting, bonding, rewarding.

Hence, the insanity.

What I forgot was:

1) The school supply list is about as large as the phone book.

2)  The (wonderful) school teachers wouldn't dare request a singular folder.  Instead, it has to be a yellow, pocket, regular-sized, with fasteners folder.  Finding a yellow, pocket, regular-sized, with fasteners folder in a Walmart aisle that looks like it has been pillaged is a bit like finding a tiny button in one of those (delightful) I Spy books.

3)  Four boys see little need to strictly follow a school supply list.  In their minds, a teacher doesn't really mean to list Scotch tape when a Lego eraser set would be so much more fun.

After I'd spent an inordinate amount of time looking for an ultra-fine black sharpie appropriate for an art class, I lost it.  I whined, "This is just so, so, so....stressful."  It was as if a collective Amen went up from the school supply aisle as fellow mom shoppers joined in my sentiments and bemoaned their own list stress.

With the list (finally) completed, the four boys and I dragged two carts up to the register.  We piled a heap of school supplies (plus groceries...a true glutton I am) onto the conveyer belt.  The not-so-nice Walmart employee shot me a disgusted look.  She moaned, "You really need to separate the school supplies from the groceries on the conveyer belt."

Imagine if a swimmer who just crossed the Atlantic Ocean was greeted with "you should have done the backstroke instead." 

That's how I felt.  

I wanted to say: 

Lady, if you only knew what I've been through to get to the conveyer belt finishing line you would just say, "Congratulations." "Well done."  "I'll happily ring up your groceries and school supplies despite the fact that they are intermingled."  "Here's a medal."

I chewed my lip.  I kept it together. I said not word one.

I vowed to break the cycle of insanity next year.

Hope I remember.












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