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Seeking Solace With My Grocery Cart

Something about wandering through the aisles without anyone grabbing me or calling mom was so decadent. The aisles of the grocery store were my Cheers, where I went and everyone knew my name.
04/08/2013 05:37pm ET | Updated June 8, 2013
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beautiful young woman shopping...

I have this vague memory of loving, no, not loving, but adoring grocery shopping by myself when the boys were little. I remember either going to the store when my husband was home or indulging in a sitter to go as being my best luxury. Something about wandering through the aisles without anyone grabbing me or calling mom was so decadent. I did my best planning and organizing while sifting through the apples or picking which vegetarian-fed eggs I wanted.

The aisles of the grocery store were my Cheers, where I went and everyone knew my name (or not, but who cares?). I was free to fly with that shopping cart in my hands.

As the boys approached school age, grocery shopping started to shift into more of a chore. Ugh, grabbing what we needed to pack lunches and make dinners was less and less of a respite. As the boys grew and grew and grew, the cart started becoming increasingly more filled until at times, I could barely steer it. I never imagined all the milk, eggs, orange juice, pasta, sandwich bread and meats and yogurt that two growing boys could consume.

While I was enamored with heading to the store all by my lonesome when the boys were little, as they got older, I tried to hustle one into going or at the very least, going when they were home to carry in the million or so bags.

This past weekend left me in a little funk. I was over-tired and cranky, as was my ever-loving husband, and I needed a tiny little mental health window this Monday. Typically, I find myself indulging in a longer workout or a pedicure these days to wash the grey of my mood away, but not today!

No, no. Today, I slapped on my hot pink lipstick and headed to the grocery store. With 40-some emails to answer, I threw my iPhone back in my tote and hit the aisles with my big-ass shopping cart in my grumpy pants (OK, they are actually lulu lemon). I planned the week out in my head, bought melon-scented soap, rounded up enough yogurt for the whole street and a few pounds of coffee among a whole bunch of other stuff, and felt remarkably better. Who would have known?

Now back to business as usual....



What's your cure-all for grumpy pants?