You learn early on to create a pick-up time from the grocery days in advance. Spend the days leading up to pick-up logging into your app to add things the family requests on a daily (hourly?) basis. Of course you are the only one with the app, you are the mother, the holder of things.
You repeatedly ask children what they would like added to the list. Some give you a grunt, some give you a list. You continue to add, crossing your fingers for a good final outcome because this is a mystery game you are playing, you don’t actually know what will arrive and what won’t. But you don’t have a choice so you play the game.
As the day of pick-up comes closer and the grocery stash dwindles you will wonder if you are living in Lord of the Flies. Can’t you see that the granola bar box is EMPTY? There are demands. One must know which creature made this so. You will be accused of the crime of starving the children. Did I mention that the Goldfish are also gone? I guess I’ll have to give up my MOTY badge.
But then the day arrives. You pick up the groceries – you may feel like a jerk doing so as a masked underpaid and undervalued worker loads groceries into your car. But when you arrive home carrying those bags you will be seen in the light of an angel. Don’t get too comfortable my friend. Turns out the sparkling water was gone and there are no English Muffins to be found. WHAT, PRAY TELL, WILL THE TEENS EAT? Your place as favorite person diminishes further as questions on whether or not you bought this thing or that are met with the reminder that a grunted response to the question of what you want from the grocery store does not translate into, “Buy ham.”
But still, they attack the cupboards and fridge like the malnourished children they are. Finally, there is a new excuse to air out the refrigerator. Clearly the door must be held open to take in all of the new items it’s been filled with – this is still very closely tied to the “there is nothing to eat in here” door holding, since as previously mentioned, some key items are missing that a mother is supposed to just intuitively know to purchase.
The locusts finally disperse, their bellies satisfied for the moment. You hang on to those fleeting moments of bringing the house joy and you again find the app, click on it with a sigh, and begin the process all over again.
