Stop and...Shop?

Last Sunday my college roommates came to visit. It was a fun time as usual, but one of those days where reality kind of sneaks up on you. Three carefree college girls have morphed into career women, home and dog owners, mothers....basically we're getting old. Ten years ago our Sunday would have consisted of sleeping late, nursing a hangover, getting a coffee and taking a drive. This particular Sunday still involved coffee of course, but a "drive" has transformed to a walk with a stroller and our beverage of choice at lunch, was caffeine free root beer. Gone are the days of sunbathing at the waterfall in the warm, early days of May. Gone are the parties, the bar hopping and the wet t-shirt contests (trust me, I'm a nursing Mother, it wouldn't be pretty). This particular Sunday, we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. Home to our hubbies, children and beloved doggies. It was 2 o'clock and although I'd been awake since 6am, it still felt like the whole day was ahead of me. I decided to grab Carter for some quality, one on one time at the grocery store.

We drove in my car with the windows down and the sunroof open, blasting one of his favorite songs, "Who loves you pretty baby...who's gonna help you through the night". Yeah, I was missing my girls, my college days, but I couldn't help but think about how great my life was now. It was a beautiful, sunny day, my child was being adorable and I was going to have a well-stocked fridge. What could possibly go wrong?

I'll tell you what. No matter how good I feel, how sunny the day, somehow I can always be taken down a notch and humbled. This day was no exception. We parked the car and grabbed a shopping cart. On this particular afternoon, I was excited because I was going to cash in old bottles and cans, which is kind of a new concept for me. We always recycle, but I had decided to make it a goal of mine to actually return them at the store. Carter and I headed over to the dimly lit bottle return area. We began putting cans and bottles in the machine and Carter was delighted to help out. Probably around the tenth or eleventh bottle, he was assisting me in putting one in the machine when, surprise! That evil Magic Hat was half-filled with warm, old, beer. Down my right arm it trickled, right onto my clothing and my two year old son.

Annoyed but not yet broken in spirit, I continued on with the task at hand, when suddenly, a seemingly innocent old man showed up. Before I could open my mouth to stop him, the sneaky little thing began popping his cans in my machine, with my running tab!!! I said, "Oh, I was using that one". He looked at me blankly (I swear it was a facade) and gave me my receipt. However, what he didn't understand is that I had put more cans in since that first receipt popped out. Ooh I was really peeved at this point but decided to let it go for the simple fact that I was always taught to be nice to old folks.

Carter and I finished up with the bottles and turned to leave, smelling like stale beer. As we entered the grocery store, my bare foot suddenly hit the cold tile. Yup, that's right. My flip flop had just broke, right there in the produce department. I had an empty cart and a long list. I managed to pop the plastic thong back into the foam hole and then proceeded to do so about nineteen more times.

There I was, hobbling around Stop and Shop looking like the Hunchback of Notre Dame and reeking of a fraternity house when who do I bump into but a former "flame". Of course, this would happen to me, I thought to myself. Now, as stated earlier, and many times before, I am VERY happy and content in my life, however you would be crazy if you told me you didn't want to look good in this type of situation. With a swipe of my wind-blown hair and a quick adjustment of my geeky glasses, I managed to exchange a formidable, "Hi, how are you?". Dear God, the only thing that would top this off right now is a big ol' box of tampons in my shopping cart.

As we drove home, I couldn't help but laugh to myself. Maybe not too much had changed at all since my days at Plymouth State. After all, like a typical college kid, it was the end of the weekend and I was tired, craving a home cooked meal, and missing a shoe!