Wal-mart - it's not just for grocery shopping any more!

This picture has nothing to do with this post.
At all.  I just think he's adorable. 

Potty training Zachary was the single most painful year and a half long experience of my life, so I'll admit, when it was time to potty train Cooper I put it off for far too long.

Finally, I decided I was going to have to just do it, so as I put him to bed, I prepped Cooper (and myself) the day before I was going to start.  "Cooper, you are getting to be such a big boy!  Do you know how Zachary wears underpants, and Daddy wears underpants and Mama wears underpants and not diapers?  Well, starting tomorrow you get to wear underpants too!  You get to go pee and poop in the potty!  Isn't that wonderful?"

The next morning when I went in to get him out of bed, he had taken off his diaper, put on underwear, and that was that.  Boom.  Totally potty trained.  I guess he was ready, huh?

Anyway, it was blessedly easy, which I'll have to say I think I deserved after the train wreck that was potty training Zachary, but having small children who are potty trained is not without it's own particular brand of challenges.

The greatest of these challenges is, of course, having a potty plan for when you are not at home.  Since I am a creature of habit, I go to the same places over and over and I have a potty plan for them all.  Except one.  Zachary's Tae Kwon Do class has a bathroom, but the setup is such that if a class is in session you have to walk through the middle of the class, thereby interrupting everyone's concentration, and then you have to do it again on the way back to your seat.  But class is only an hour, and I always make sure Cooper goes to the bathroom right before we leave for class.  It's only an hour, right?

So one day a few weeks back we were sitting at Tae Kwon Do, watching Zachary's class, when Cooper leaned over to me and said "Mama, I have to poop!" Oh great.  The class was in the middle of forms, which requires some concentration, so I asked him "Can you wait till we get home?"  "No Mama, I need to poop now!"

Ok then.  I made a split second decision that I would take him to Wal-Mart, which is just across the street, so he could use the bathroom there instead of interrupting the class twice.  We went, and he went, and everything worked out just fine.

Until the next time we were sitting in class, a few minutes in, and Cooper said to me "Mama, I need to poop.  Can us go to Moo-mart?" (Moo-mart is what he calls Wal-Mart because, hello! we do what Mickey Mouse does!)  After asking some questions I determined it was pretty urgent, so off to Moo... I mean Wal-Mart we went.

Now every time we are in the general vicinity of Wal-Mart, he decides he needs to go there to poop.  When I told him the other day to get his shoes on because we needed to go to Wal-Mart so we could get some groceries, he replied "YAY! AND US TAN POOP THERE, TOO!"

Um, yeah, kid, I guess we can.

An open letter to the lady I was rude to in Wal-Mart.

Dear Lady,

First, I'd like to thank you for taking SUCH an interest in my little family.

Yes, I'll agree with you - I have two very cute boys.  And yes, they have a LOT of energy.

How wonderful for all of us that we were able to cross paths down EVERY SINGLE AISLE, even when I went out of my way to try to avoid you.

Also, I'l like to take a moment to thank you properly for all the unsolicited parenting advice you had to offer.  Clearly your wisdom in raising children knows no bounds!  I think it's a wonderful thing that your boys -spirited little scamps at that age! - were able to calm right down when given a little task or chore to help their grocery-shopping Mama out.  How wonderful for you that having your boys pick out which pork-n-beans to buy - one big can or two little ones, Mama? - made them into such well-mannered little children while you shopped, but I'm afraid my boys, one of whom I cannot catch and who has knocked down three displays and two people, and the other of whom is strapped into the cart, throwing his entire body violently backwards and yelling "HELP! HELP!" at the top of his voice in an effort to extract himself from the cart, may be beyond the "choosing which marshmallows to buy" stage.  But you're right.  It's excellent advice.  I'll certainly consider trying that next time we shop.  Which, of course won't be HERE, because I'm pretty sure we're going to be asked to leave and never come back if zj breaks anything else...

Anyway, is that your son with you, all grown up now?  How wonderful that he takes time out of his busy day to take his Mama to the grocery.  Such respect!  Oh, he's not that busy because he still lives at home in your basement, is unemployed, and spends his day looking at porn on the internet and playing World of Warcraft?  Well, still, it's nice of him to bring you out.

I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize to you for acting so rude and snappish after I was nice to you for the first 15 times you butted in and I'd also like to apologize for telling your to mind your own damn business.  We're in this together, you and I.  Raising boys is a tough business sometimes, and I certainly shouldn't have snapped at someone who was so CLEARLY on my side.  I was just a little stressed out at that moment, trying to get the bottle of syrup out of cj's hand, since he had somehow managed to open it, and to try to catch zj before he ran into the elderly gentleman with the walker and oxygen tank again. 

You understand, right?

And surely you forgive me.

We Mamas of boys have to stick together.

Yeah, I just ran a mini marathon. My feet could star in a zombie movie. With redneck playlist!!!

So the running bug bit me a while back and it bit HARD.   I'm not an especially good runner.  My form is bad, my pacing is poor, my toes are black and look like they have been stepped on by an overweight elephant.  Also, I'm not really at a training level to run a mini-marathon.  Oh, and my feet... My poor, battered feet...  I am currently missing a toenail, am about to lose another one, and only have two that aren't black or bruised.  I have feet issues.  Serious ones.  But whatever.  I'd post a picture, but I don't want to run both my readers off.  It's ugly.  Maybe, just maybe, if you're lucky, I'll tell you all about my most recent shoe fitting, which led me to wear a pair of brand new, un-broken in, untried shoes for my longest race ever,  but for now, let's focus on the race, shall we?

Anyway, I signed up for, ran (mostly) and successfully completed this little mini, feet be damned.  Here's how it went down:

Starting Line - on the playlist:  Harper Valley PTA by Bobbie Gentry  I always wonder about the women at these races who have to get up at least three hours early to tease and/or otherwise bouffant their hair and carefully apply their makeup.  That woman up there has AT LEAST half a can of Aqua Net on her beehive.  That shit is going to melt once she starts sweating.  Hey!  Why is she in a faster corral than me?  Oh, here we go!!!

Mile one - on the playlist:  Van Lear Rose by Loretta Lynn  Ok, I wanted music to start that would help me pace myself, but... this song is so SLOW I'm practically running backward.  Hmmm... these shoes aren't feeling too great.  Actually, my left foot sort of seems like it may explode soon.  Hey Will, 5:30 Asics Pace Runner, do your really thing dropping trou and going pee in the middle of the race while a pace group is following you is a great idea? Ok, I guess you do.  Carry on, then.  And I kinda need to pee, too.  And what's that weird smell?

Mile two - on the playlist:  I Don't Want To Get Over You by Norah Jones and Willie Nelson  It's my man Willie's birthday today!  Love ya Willie!  Aw... isn't it sweet that the band kids are playing for us?  But could you crank it down a notch?  I'm trying to listen to Willie here.  And... my left foot is REALLY going to explode now.  It's ok, I didn't like that foot very much anyway.   Hi Mr. Policeman.  You are doing a good job keeping the traffic from crushing us on these side streets.  I appreciate that very much.  I'd appreciate it more maybe if you weren't the THIRD COP IN A ROW who was either playing Angry Birds and/or texting your wife/girlfriend/both on your iPhone.  I'm on to you.  I have an iPhone, and I know what it means when you hold it sideways...  And I REALLY need to pee.  And I STILL smell that smell.

Mile three - on the playlist:  I Feel Lucky by Mary Chapin Carpenter   Hmmm... this isn't the best neighborhood, is it?  Damn, my foot hurts.  Anyway, you adorable pit bull, you... you just stay on that side of the chain link fence, ok?  I really don't feel like being bitten today.  Unless maybe you could gnaw my left foot off.  Then it might be ok.  Hey, is that a hooker passed out on that porch?  Also, I'm thinking about peeing on myself.  REAL runners do that, right?  That smell... not going away.  What could that possibly be?

Mile four - on the playlist:  You're the Reason Our Kids are Ugly by Loretta Lynn and Conway Twitty  OMG IS THAT A PORTAPOTTY LINE?  I'm totally stopping...  8 minutes later... Whew, that's better.  I can totally do this.  Well, I could totally do this if my left foot weren't about to explode.  Ok, and that smell keeps getting worse.  And worse.  Are we near a dog food factory or something?  Oh... I think I figured it out.  I'M THE SMELL.  It smells like teen spirit up in here, y'all.  And it's bad stuff.  

Mile five - on the playlist:  Tainted Love by Soft Cell  Not.  Feeling. Well.  Nauseous.  Foot. Hurts.  And how the HELL did that song get on my playlist?  Maybe I'll step over here for a minute... My sincerest apologies go out to the members of the Daughters of the American Revolution and/or their groundskeepers for any vomit I may have left near your building.  I can assure you that it is in no way a reflection of how I feel about your fine organization.  

Mile six - on the playlist:  Lyin' Eyes by the Eagles  Ok, I feel better, except for my left foot.  And I'm not sure that will ever be the same again.  Did that Grandma in front of me just Jump. Up. In. The. Air. And. Do. A. Leprechaun. Heel. Kick?  Why yes, yes she did.  Go Grandma.  Right now I hate you with a passion that is indescribable, you and your show-offy heel kicky 70 year old feet that work properly.  Bitch.  I think I'm going to step over here to the side and maybe do a quick amputation.  Or maybe I'll just take my sock off and try running without it...

Mile six point one - on the playlist: Did I Shave My Legs For This by Deana Carter Alrighty, the no sock thing was a bad idea.  Guess I'll get out of traffic and put that sucker back on...  My left shoe, however, I think I can do without. 

Mile seven - on the playlist:  Mind Your Own Business by Hank Williams Jr.  Hi Old Guy.  You must be Gene, since your shirt says "Gene's 38th Mini Marathon."  Either you're Gene, or you rolled Gene in the parking lot and stole his shirt.  Yes, I know I'm carrying my shoe.  Yes, I know it's a bad idea to wear new shoes on race day.  Yes, I understand that the same thing happened to you back in '78 in Memphis.  No, really I don't care.  Gene, I appreciate your wise words and witty anecdotes and all, but I think I might move on over to the side and put my shoe back on.  No, no, you go on ahead.  I don't want to hold you up.

Mile eight - on the playlist:  It's A Great Day To Be Alive by Travis Tritt  Great news!  Now my left foot is completely numb, so it no longer matters if it explodes.  Except exploded foot is going to be Hell to clean out of those shoes before I return them... Hey!  Is this Churchill Downs we're running through?  Awesome!  Also, the smell of horse piss is stronger than the smell of ME, and also considerably more pleasant.  Hey lady?  Why would you stop in the middle of a race to take pictures?  Don't you know you can buy a postcard?  Whatever.  Cool!  Beer tents.  I'm gonna be over there asleep under that pallet of Bud Light Lime if you need me.

Mile nine - on the playlist: Delta Dawn by Tanya Tucker  I love this song.  It's one of those songs I just can't help but sing along to...  Oh, what are you looking at, lady?  It's a good song.  Besides, you are dressed like a middle aged, overweight Wonder Woman.  Clearly drawing attention to yourself is something you know a little bit about.  These people who stand out here and hand out water to all us thristy folks are awesome, but this group from Walgreens is the only group who is keeping the cups and bottles and other trash picked up along the way.  Clearly, being of the retail sort, they are used to picking up after other people.  And... my foot hurts. 

Mile ten - on the playlist:  One More Last Chance by Vince Gill Why are all the people around me congratulating each other?  We have THREE.  POINT.  ONE.  FREAKIN'. MILES. LEFT.  That's a 5k, people.  There is a more than even chance that SOMEBODY will drop out past this point.  Like me, maybe.  Wonder how that works?  Do I just raise my hand and ask to be excused?  Get a hall pass, maybe?  Or do I just go sit down on the side of the road and a bus comes and gets me in a few minutes and takes me to the gladiator ring with all the other losers and we get fed to the lions?  Hmmm...  I should have researched that a little better.  I hate being unprepared.  Guess I better keep going.

Mile eleven - on the playlist:  The Church on Cumberland Road by Shenandoah Seriously?!?!?!  Do you guys really think a mini-marathon is a good place to come on a getting-to-know-you date?  Also, dude, I'm pretty sure a line that starts with "I've made lots of bad choices in my life..." is NOT the way to guarantee a follow-up date.  And honey, you are way cute, but you are a hot sweaty mess right now, and your ponytail, which was probably all cute and perky this morning, is all higgledy-piggledy and askew.  You really don't want a guy to see you like that until after the third date.  And... my foot cannot possibly still be a functioning limb at this point.  That's ok, though.  I'll just get one of those super duper replacements like the Bionic Woman has.

Mile twelve - on the playlist:  Bye Bye by Jo Dee Messina One mile and change to go!  At this point, it will be easier to finish than to quit, because of the car is parked pretty close to the finish line.  Smart thinkin', huh?  Hey, is that Austin Powers up there?  Dammit.  I must be dehydrated and delusional.  Nope, that really is some yahoo dressed like Austin Powers.  Also, maybe I'll just get a peg leg and become a pirate, since my left foot is going to fall off soon.  Pirates are in right now, aren't they?  I'd hate to be a pirate if they were so last week...

Mile thirteen - on the playlist:  Beer for My Horses by Toby Keith & Willie Nelson There are two free drink tickets in my pocket calling my name.  After I finish this #&!@*$# race, I will drink beer.  And eat.  Possibly a whole cow.  With a couple chickens and a loaf of bread on the side.  And a pizza for dessert. And maybe a bottle of wine.  Or three.  Oh, and ice cream... Right after I throw up again... 

Finish Line - on the playlist:  Ready to Run by the Dixie Chicks  I can see the finish line!!!  I'm running FULL OUT!  Ok, maybe not.  How about moderately paced?  Anyway, surely the 10,000 people or so standing around the finish line aren't done already.  Yep, they're done already.  Including all those folks over there who are actual marathon runners.  They've run twice as far as I have, plus they've all had time to cool down, dry off, grab a bite to eat, tell a few funny stories, and... OH WHATEVER.  I'm done!  I did it!  And I got a freakin' medal to prove it.  Hey, why does my medal say "Wal-Mart" on it?


And here I am a couple days later, happy I did it, proud I finished, sore, tired, and planning how to do better next time... and there will be a next time.  


Actually, it's kind of like being pregnant.  It sucks and you're miserable the entire time, but you forget quickly enough, and do it all over again, because the rewards are worth the pain.


So, here's to the Derby City Marathon in 2012. 


I'm thinking by then, I'll be ready to run the whole damn 26.2.

That one time that I stole something from the Wal-Mart.

This post is brought to you by Mama Kat's Pretty Much Famous Writer's Workshop.  And by prison.  Which is where I'll go if any police officers or Wal-Mart loss prevention representatives read this post.



Long ago and far away, I had a high-powered career as a retail bookstore manager, where high-powered equals I worked a lot, career equals I got a 15 year pin, and manager equals I was the one who got to clean the bathrooms whenever someone had explosive diarrhea all over the walls.

It was a glamourous job, filled with travel (twice a year we got to stay in a hotel near the airport in Columbus, Ohio) and rewards unimaginable.  It was leading up to one of the trips that I began, and ended, my life of crime.

Here's some background.  At this point, we had a Regional Director (read: big bucks, no actual work) who believed in building what he called shared memories, which to him meant that at a three day meeting, we got to dress up in three different ridiculous outfits and sit in meetings all day dressed like that so as to lose any shred of dignity we may have once possessed all the while being gently goaded and/or violently threatened to SELL MORE STUFF.  Ah, how I miss those days.

This particular year, Day One was to be Dress As Your Favorite Character From a Book Day, Day Two was Dress As Your Favorite Sports Hero Day, and Day Three Was Hippie Day.

Good times.

I got online and ordered one of these, ironed a red "A" on the chest, and viola, I was Hester Prynne from The Scarlet Letter.   She's not really my favorite anything, but she's totally recognizable, even to a room full of bookstore managers dressed up mostly as Harry Potter, Hermione, Sookie Stackhouse and Harry Dresden.  I really love Caddy Compson from Faulkner's Sound and the Fury, but didn't want to spend the entire day explaining who I was.  Ok, Day One, check.

For Day Two, since I have exactly zero sports heroes, I - you guessed it - got online and ordered a baseball jersey with "The Beers" on the front, and "12 oz." on the back.  Drinking beer is a sport where I'm from.  Really.  I've medaled a time or two.  Day Two, check.

At this point, I had nearly half a week's salary invested in costumes for a meeting that was designed to tell us there would be no raises that year (true story), I decided to shop for my final costume at Goodwill.  Hippies donate stuff, right?  Anyway, I found some stuff, and used my mad sewing skills, an ugly skirt and a pair of $2 jeans to create these awesome pants:

Home Ec class for the win!

I also found some ugly platform shoes that looked like they were made out of hemp for $2, a vest for $1, and I made myself a headband with the rest of the skirt.  

I just needed a few accessories and I'd be done.

I needed a few groceries anyway, so I stopped at Wal-Mart, a place I typically avoid at all costs, especially after that time I got trapped in an aisle there.  I did my grocery shopping, then wandered over to the jewelry section, where on the clearance rack, I saw a necklace something like this:

It was perfect!  And it was on clearance!  Of course, it was from the Mary Kate and Ashley line, but never mind that.  I've always had tastes that are similar to those of a twelve year old girl.

I tossed it in my cart and headed up front to pay for my stuff.  

After the madhouse of the checkout lane, I headed outside into the bitter cold to load up my car.  

It was as I was unloading the last bag into the trunk that I saw it.

The necklace, the perfect Mary Kate & Ashley hippie necklace, had fallen to the bottom of the cart and was dangling out the bottom, held only by the tag, which was wedged on the side of the cart.

And I hadn't paid for it.

I immediate looked around to see if Wal-Mart security had followed me.  Was there going to be a take-down right here in the parking lot?  Maybe I'd make the next episode of cops.  Whew.  Ok, no security guard.  What about cameras?  Surely they were watching me on camera and getting my license plate number so they could arrest me later.  Plus, they knew my name.  I paid with my debit card and they could track me with that...

Clearly, I'm not cut out for a life of crime.

Ok, think, mj, think.  What would Chuck Norris do?  

I had three options.  1) I could push the cart, necklace still caught in the bottom, over to the cart corral and hope no one noticed.  2) I could untangle the necklace from the cart and go back in to pay for it or 3) I could untangle the necklace from the cart and put it in my bag and drive off like a bat out of Hell and never shop in that store again because my picture would surely be hanging on the bulletin board with the words "Teeny-bopper Jewelry Thief - If Seen Please Detain.  Crazy, Dangerous and Poorly Dressed." under it.

I ran through all the possible scenarios in my mind.  My conscience was telling me to "take the damn necklace back in and pay for it already!" but my super paranoid side was saying things like "They're never going to believe you.  They are going to think you are some sort of attention-seeking klepto with horrible taste."  What to do?  What to do?

So I made my decision, and wore my costume with pride, and even won a prize for second best costume of the day.  

Oh, and I'm not going to tell you what I decided to do.

I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that I may incriminate myself.

Prices slashed! Everything on sale!

There are a blue million great coupon and money saving blogs.

This is not one of them.  I have never aspired to that, and I'm not about to start now.

However, I do love a good bargain.  More than most.  But I'm kinda inconsistent about bargain shopping, and occasionally - ok, more than occasionally - choose convenience over cheap.

I clip coupons, dutifully, every week.  Then usually forget to use them.

I refuse - REFUSE - to be one of the crazies dedicated people who stand in line for 89 hours to save $40 off a flat screen tv.

But I also refuse - REFUSE - to pay shipping for anything I purchase online.

Also, I am a member of every membership rewards loyalty card program in America.

Inconsistent, I know.

Try living in my head for a day...

Anyway, over the past six months, I have re-dedicated myself a bit to the whole money-saving venture, and I treat it like a game.  How cheap can I get a pack of t-shirts?  Can I get something at the grocery - GASP! - free?  It's a challenge, and I'm super competitive, and I like to win.

I know.  Clearly I need more hobbies.

But now, you, faithful readers, get to benefit from what I have learned.  Over the next few weeks, I'm going to share with you ways to save money while shopping that require minimal effort on your part.  Pull up a chair, and let me regale you with my wisdom.  Or at least save you $.40 on juice.  Whatever.

Today's focus is on saving money while grocery shopping.

Here goes:

I do a bit of grocery shopping at Wal-Mart (sad, I know) and Meijer's, but 80% of my groceries come from Kroger.  Why?  Well, it's conveniently located, it's well-stocked, and it's usually not crowded.  Those are my top three grocery store criteria.

I have had a Kroger Plus card for years, and always thought it was a bit of a scam... You know, a way to raise prices then make you THINK you were saving money with your card.  I thought that, until I found out that you can load coupons, directly onto your card, from the Kroger website.

Here's how it works.  Go to www.kroger.com and click on Digital Coupons.  You will be asked to create an account with some basic information and with your Kroger Plus number.  Then, click away!  As you click on the digital coupons, they are automatically added to your Plus card.  When you shop at Kroger and swipe your card, the savings are automatically deducted.

For a lazy couponer like me, this is perfect.  I just go onto the website once a week or so, and add coupons to my card for anything I buy, ever.  Then whenever I shop, the amount gets deducted.

It's like magic.

Also, I found out last time I did this that if you have a digital coupon for something, you can also use a paper coupon on top of that, if you remember to bring it with you.  Which I did, that one time.  And since Kroger doubles coupons up to $.50, you can save a bunch of money if you pay a little bit of attention.  Or not.  I got one of those giant bottles of Tide laundry detergent last week for around $6.00, totally by accident.  I know, I'm really lucky that way...

It gets even better.  If you have an iPhone, Kroger offers an app that is free to download and that lets you do exactly the same thing.  Except you can do it from your iPhone, which is way cooler.  Anyway, you register the app to your Plus card, open the app, click the coupon, and Voila! - you save some money.  This is especially cool because you can do it WHILE walking around doing your shopping.

Also, Cellfire is another great website that lets you load coupons directly to your Kroger card.  I haven't used it as much, but my initial trial has been positive.

Ok, that was easy, huh?  Come back later this week, and I'm going to tell you why you never have to pay shipping costs on anything you buy online.  Ever again.

Christmas card photos - the outtakes.

Because it's a tradition.

It's been a tradition for years.

And years.

"You have to keep your hat ON your head, baby.  Please, honey?  For Mama?"

"No, no zj.  Get close to your brother, but not ON your brother.  Please? For Mama?"

"No, no cj.  Please leave your hat on.  Zj, smile for Mama. Please."

"No no baby.  On. Your. Head.  For Mama. Please?"

"Zj, tongue in your mouth! Hands down! For Mama? Please?"

"Yoo hoo?  Boys?  Look at Mama.  Please?  Over here, please.  Boys? At Mama.  Look. At. Mama. Please?"

"CJ. SIT. DOWN.  CJ.  SIT. FOR MAMA. NOW."

"CJ. SIT. NOW. ZJ. LOOK. AT ME. NOW."

"Baby, Mama's sorry.  Mama didn't mean to yell. Mama's SO sorry.  Come here.  We don't need any silly Christmas cards anyway."

With both of my regular blog readers the entire blogosphere as my witness, I'm taking these children to Wal-Mart next year and paying $39.95 for the deluxe Christmas photo package.

Sending the kids to the sitter to run errands: priceless.

The number of things I needed at the grocery today: 4

The number of children who accompanied me to the grocery: 2

The number of things I bought at the grocery: 39

The number of things zj put in my cart without my knowledge: 8

The number of things zj put in my cart without my knowledge that were branded with a cartoon character: 7

The total amount I spent: $125

The number of times I said "Zj, please don't touch that": 6,113

The number of times I said "Zj, please put that back": 4,359

The number of times I said : "Zj, please don't climb on that": 3,760

The number of times I said the generic "Zj, please stop" 11,456

The number of times I looked at or interacted with cj during the entire trip:  2

The number of strangers who looked at me with a mixture of amusement/pity/scorn/relief that they were alone: 46

The number of gift cards that zj knocked off a display rack: 368

The number of employees it took to clean up the gift cards: 2

The cost of sending the kids to the sitter so I can run errands: priceless.

The People of Wal-Mart: The Infant Edition. We're obviously in the finals.

A while back, the website The People of Wal-Mart became big news.

Some thought it was the funniest thing in the world since...  well, since ME, and other people thought it was a horrible exploitation of the pour lost souls in tube tops.

I see both sides, really.

But more importantly, it's clear that cj is in the running for the Infant Edition.

So what if we weren't ACTUALLY in Wal-Mart when these photos were taken.

We are quite obviously there in spirit.

Bonus points for:

One sock on, one sock off.

Not one but two different colors of baby food staining the shirt

Dirt on the knees from crawling on the floor.

Cow-licks on both sides of the head.

When I picked him up from the sitter the other day, he was wearing this.  He had not been wearing this when he left that morning.

Bonus points for:

Shirt 4 sizes too large.

Underwear over diaper.

Drool stains on both the front and back of the shirt.

Oh well, at least he's happy.

I really don't like Wal-Mart very much.

Don't get me wrong.  I go there.

Pretty much every couple of weeks or so.

Because I can save $.47 on a pack of underwear.  And since I'm quite possibly the cheapest person I know, that's pretty important to me.

But I hate it with a passion that I cannot explain in words that are appropriate to the internet audience.

Sometimes, I get up at 4am, shower, get dressed and go to Wal-Mart before the crowds hit.  RJ doesn't mind.  What that means for him is that he kids are still in bed when I leave, and they are still in bed when I get home.  It's a win-win situation for him.

I'm pretty sure I developed my intense feelings for Wal-Mart the the one time that I got trapped in an aisle and I had to leave my full cart of stuff in order to save myself an get out.

True story.

I was in Wal-Mart at around midnight.  It was a weekend, and I had just worked a closing shift.  I needed some deodorant, and maybe some olives.  I don't really remember.  It was years ago.

Anyway, I had a pretty full cart of stuff, and I remember that I needed some paper towels, so I went down the paper towel lane.

Obviously, that was a bad idea.

As I was strolling down the aisle, trying to decide - Select-A-Size or regular?  a very conscientious Wal-Mart employee parked a pallet of stuff at the end of the aisle.  No problem.  I was going in the other direction, anyway.

I spent a few minutes trying to decide on the square boxes of Kleenex vs. the rectangular boxes of Kleenex, and then headed toward he checkout.

But...

By the time I got to the other end of the aisle, yet another Wal-Mart employee had parked yet another pallet of stuff at that end.  Hmmm.  What to do?  I peeked my head around the massive pallet of stuff to look for someone to save me.  No dice.  Must have been break time.

I decided the only possible way out was sort of OVER and AROUND the big pallet, and of course, my cart wouldn't fit.

So I did the only logical thing.

I abandoned my cart and got he hell out of Wal-Mart.