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April 27, 2017

no-fun-Mondays

A week before the school year started my sitting schedule changed to include Mondays.  It took me a few days to grasp a Mon-Thursday commitment during the school year instead of just Tu, Wed, Th.

I informed Gretta, when she requested my services for an additional day (in the eleventh hour), that her two boys would be dragged to the health club followed by grocery shopping every Monday.  I call it 'no-fun-Mondays'.  Gretta accepted this arrangement.

Initially I figured the tots would detest our Monday rat race.  One-year-old Gilbert dared to take up precious real estate in the overflowing cart where I strapped him in the seat each week.  I tucked groceries around him -careful that his chubby fists couldn't reach my squish-able purchases.  Steering the two ton load with one hand, I adapted to using my free hand to rescue wandering Theo.  He often risked being flattened by another shopper's cart.
Best eaten outside of packaging!

Just before Easter, I stocked up on Easter basket goodies.  I lost my focus for a minute while searching for regular jelly beans instead of the new-wave, fancy-flavor variety.  When I turned back to the cart, I discovered Gilbert was attempting to eat bright yellow peeps thru the package. 

This is my grocery cart on a non-sitting day.  Use your imagination to figure out where I would squeeze a baby. 
Even though I complete a rigorous workout Monday mornings, I get sweaty all over again once home:  unloading a $375 mountain of bags, whipping up the boys' lunch, and searching for pantry and fridge space to stow my soon-to-be-devoured loot.

With two broken door shelves, excess food gets stacked on the bottom outside the drawer of apples.  It's always fun searching for something I know is in there SOMEWHERE!
Our grocery store jaunts included spying escaped Mylar balloons, spontaneous 'rain' in the produce department, friendly elderly people, and the occasional piece of cheese shared by the meat-counter personnel.  This AFTER a ball pit, non-stop TV, and a train table in the health club daycare.  As it turns out, errand day was the bomb for my two young charges. 

In no time, it was clear that I was the only one ready for a toddler-style melt-down by noon on Mondays.  Something had to give . . .

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