Three Kid Circus : The groceries are coming! The groceries are coming!

Thursday, July 15, 2004

The groceries are coming! The groceries are coming!

I woke up to beautiful, clear blue skies this morning. All three kids are still asleep, and I'm feeling great.

We've all been sick for going on two weeks, and I finally got a full night's sleep for the first time in a month. I'm going to putting a big offering on the altar of the Parenting Gods today.

Just a brief rave about the lovely people at I love grocery delivery. I love ordering online. I love it. I LOVE IT! When getting the kids dressed and into the car can take an act of congress, not to mention spending an hour or more shifting kids into assorted positions in the cart in order to accomodate the food, it's more than worth the $4.95 delivery charge.

The thing about having the food come directly to my house, though, is that my kids and my dog get whipped into a frenzy when the truck pulls up. Our long-suffering regular delivery guy "Jack" plasters an "I'm smiling so I don't scream in terror" smile on his face as he enters the front gate.

Donna the dog is territorial, so we have to put her in the bedroom, where unfortunately, she can still see Jack unloading the groceries, so she is barking and howling the whole time.

The kids act like rioting prisoners who have spotted a hole in the fence. It baffles me. We have to put a lock on the gate to keep the kids from trying to escape on grocery day. I guess they sense a distraction... I swear that they do not try to break and run EXCEPT when Jack is trying to push $300 worth of groceries through my gate.

Once we successfully retrieve the kids from the driveway, and get the lock on the gate latch, they enjoy standing on top of the play structure and heckling poor Jack while he works. Oh, not unkind heckling, more like "Jack! I'm wearing big boy pants!" and "Jack! Wanna go down the slide? Jack? Hey! Jack!"

I have to say my favorite, time-honored grocery day tradition involves standing in the doorway, or darting underfoot as the big folks are trying to move the groceries down the entry hall and into the kitchen. It's akin to shooting river rapids, or crossing a mine field. One minute, you are sashaying towards the kitchen, with 4 plastic bags full of canned beans draped from your appendages. The next, you have been bodychecked into the wall by a rampaging 18 month old, who decided that she wanted to see if she could cross the tracks before the train got there.

Poor Jack.