It's the strangest thing.  The feeling I get from having a full pantry.  Seriously, our kitchen storage looks like we're ready for the Apocalypse.  I mean, really, just how many cans of green beans and evaporated milk does one family need?  So, here it is: my guilty pleasure for all the world to see...(cue drum roll)... Discount Grocery Shopping!!!!  I'm not talking about your regular, run-of-the-mill, double-our-competitors'-coupons Grocery joint.  No way.  I'm talking about that famous, German-owned, pay-a-quarter-for-your-cart, bag-it-yourself place where the brands look vaguely familiar,as if you were shopping in some parallel universe.  Most folks on the eastern seaboard know what I mean, but still, I need to change the name to protect the innocent.  So let's just call it "Baldy." 

How, OH HOW, I love to shop at Baldy.  The rush from the grocery cart piled to the ceiling, the slight "Kroger" panic at the checkout line as I wait for the total to be announced.  The joy of paying cash (usually about $135 to 140), knowing that I just saved my family, like, $100 at least.  And my secret delight, realizing all the beads I can buy with $100. 

(Oh, THAT is WRONG.)

 Anyhow, just had to get that off my chest.  I guess it was fresh in my memory from my weekend excursion.  But, that was then....

Today, however, was total blogfodder.

Blogfodder (n): a complete swirl of mayhem and chaos that can only be exorcised from one's life by writing about it on one's weblog.  From the Old German word "Bloggersfoden" which literally translated means "a giant sucking sound."

Ava woke up screaming several times last nite.  Then, again this morning.  Homeschool was fraught with intermittent bouts of screaming as well.   Judging by her movements, I thought she had either something in her eye or something scratched her eye.  Wow.  When it rains it pours.  I tried in vain several times to flush out her eye.  Like wrestling a greased pig.  Not that I would know.  I called the doc and they wanted to see her in case it was a scratch.  I'm not really a big fan of rushing to the doctors.  They always panic on the phone, then when you get there they send you home with a pat on the back and a big "congratulations, it's nothing."

Of course the first thing I think of is "Boy, it would be so much easier if my big kids were in school right now."  I can't take another doctor's appt with the five of us scrunched up in a tiny room with me shushing everyone and asking the MD to repeat everything he just said 10 times.   On the other hand, they were really awesome at getting their lessons done, being flexible while I tended to Ava, and being helpful as we packed up to go.  I would miss them if they were somewhere else all day.  I ended up dropping them at a friend's church where she works. *"Howdy 'M.R." - You're a total rock star!!!"  They sat and finished up lessons while I went to the appt with Ava & Ella.  Bottom line is -- no scratch.  Just good ole' Conjunctivitus.  Congratulations. 

So, after the good news/bad news, I went back and picked up the kids.  Then, onto prescriptionland where I pull up to the window just as the Pharmacist says "Hello" and Ava vomits in her carseat.  All the kids went insane!  "EEEEwwwwww!!!"  "Mommy, roll down the window, it smells like old sippy cups in here!"  The pharmacist nearly dropped her wad of chewing gum onto the counter in utter amazement.  She literally trembled as she said "Gimme me 10 minutes on this, ok?"

I pulled into the parking lot.  Ava was yelling for me to wipe her.  I had no baby wipes in the diaper bag.  But, what I did have was a clean pair of boy's underwear and a half-empty bottle of water. Motherhood is the Necessity of Invention.  Needless to say, exactly 9 and one-half minutes later, I was back in the pharmacist's window looking for my 'script with my face pressed to the glass in horror.

I got the meds, sped our fuming mini-van home, washed kid, washed carseat, clothing, pig-wrestled more drops into Ava's eye, had a meltdown, fixed dinner, did I mention the meltdown?, told neighbor friends that NOBODY could come out and play because we were all infected so go away, get ready for bed and type blog.

So, here I am, a shadow of the woman I think I used to be.  Maybe I can hide in here until Grocery Day.

Later.