Let’s Talk About How Grocery Stores Aren’t Made for Moms (or Our Sanity)🥴
Ever tried to do a “simple” grocery run with a toddler?
Spoiler alert: it’s never simple.
Today, Odin and I wanted to make dad lunch for his birthday… prepared my list and headed out on our adventure. He already threw a fit getting in the car.
Knew I was screwed. Why? Because here’s the thing—sure, there’s that cart with a child’s seat attached like it’s the holy grail of shopping solutions, but what do you do when your kid refuses to sit in it? What then?
Suddenly, my “solution” is a wrecking ball on four wheels, and my toddler is the wrecking crew. Odin insisted he push the cart. 😮💨
But get this! I forgot my damn list in the car.
So there I am, monitoring the cart, trying to remember what I put on the list, and keeping a 3 year olds attention.
Turn away for two seconds (because I dared to pick up tomatoes), and WHAM—he rams it into a pistachio end stand. 😱
Cue the side-eyeing me from behind pristine, quiet shopping carts.
And because the universe loves a good joke…
Decide to distract him with gummy snacks trying to get him in the cart… I catch a whiff of him—yep, he’s pooped. Right there next to the avocados 🥑
The one time I was grateful I’d put him in a pull-up.
But hey, now I’m a mom pushing a poop-scented shopping cart with a three-year-old REFUSING to sit down… I get it bud. If I had 💩 in my pants I wouldn’t want to either.
Meanwhile, I’m trying to mentally reconstruct a grocery list that is still left in the car, all while feeling the weight of a hundred silent judgments.
And let’s talk about those looks, shall we? It’s that subtle-but-not-subtle glance that says, “Control your kid,” or “Doesn’t she smell that?” Yes, Brenda, I smell it.
But I can’t fix it while I’m simultaneously hunting for the tzatziki that I swear is in this aisle…or maybe it’s the next one?
The constant loop of “What am I forgetting?” playing in my head is now paired with “Who’s noticing that my child smells like the neighboring cow farm?”
Then we finally FINALLY make it out of the store, and Odin decides this is the moment he needs to stop traffic to RAM our cart over the speed bump. 🤦🏼♀️
But Jenna what about the 💩
Frantically trying to wipe him as he wiggles like a damn worm… a car pulls in right next to us. So I try to shield his private parts like some half-crazed ninja, hoping no one catches a glimpse and feel I’m met with even more judgment.
Sprinkle that in with thoughts of getting stolen from the parking lot… sure sh*t got 💩 on my fingers
Because nothing screams “handling it” like your kid naked in a parking lot while you’re elbow-deep in feces.😫
And this, right here, is the bullshit reality of what we call a “grocery trip.”
There’s no such thing as a quick stop for moms. It’s not just navigating the aisles; it’s managing chaos while trying to keep some semblance of composure.
It regulates your nervous system while your toddler pushes you to the brink. And it’s doing it all knowing that at any given moment, a stranger will judge you for not handling your kid like some perfect Stepford wife with a perma-smile.
So no, grocery stores aren’t “made” for us.
They’re set up for the fantasy version of motherhood, where the kid stays put, smiles sweetly, and lets you shop. But in real life? We’re out here running obstacle courses with ticking time bombs for children, dodging judgment, and just praying we don’t lose our sanity along the way.
So yeah, if you see a mom battling it out in the aisles, maybe—just maybe—offer a little grace. Because behind that tired smile, there’s a woman who’s one dropped jar of pasta sauce away from a total meltdown.
Steve better LOVE these homemade pizza rolls🥹
