Mondays are grocery shopping day. In a perfect world I only go to the big market once a week. In the bad old days of not that many years ago, I would have a baby in the sling, one riding the cart and several more trailing behind. Today it was just the 4 year old and me. Grocery shopping bliss. And she was such a helpful child today. She had her own "list" and rode the cart happily, hopping off to help me collect our usual items. She was rewarded with a "special" yogurt in the dairy section for being so helpful (i.e. no tantrums, a minimum of begging). The yogurt deal started years ago when my older girls were little. If we all made it to the dairy section and if there had not been any major meltdowns then they got to choose a treat. Of course, occasionally, the tantrum would happen on the way to or at the check out line. Then the yogurt went back. They were already screaming anyway. I have even walked out and left fully loaded carts unpaid for in the store to carry a kicking, raging child to the car and then drive home. Without any food. I don't remember having to do it more then twice....thank goodness.
So there we were today, at the end of the check out line pleasantly chatting with the 75 year old bagger. He was sweet and funny up until the point that he asked me if the child singing to herself on the cart WAS MY GRANDDAUGHTER? My blood ran cold. I knew that I hadn't bothered to put any make-up on this morning, but give me a break! Yes, I have very short, white hair but I have been operating under the illusion that the face was still young. Damn, my self esteem has taken a big hit. Short of a face lift, I need to pull myself out of this funk.
Tomorrow I get my meat at my local butcher. My butchers are the cutest guys around. And they flirt with me. I don't care why they do it, I just know I always feel like a million bucks when I leave. So, I am off to buy me some meat. Grandmother, my ass!
Monday, May 22, 2006
Time for a Face Lift
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5 comments:
this is a test
Further evidence that I can NOT give up my haircolor. When my number one son was in first grade, I went to school one day to have lunch with him and one of the kids asked him if that was his grandma. I guess it's too early to teach him to say "No, my Mom was of legal age when she had me."
I seriously considered buying a bottle of Clairol's Grey Buster # 40 Auburn. The I remembered how much I HATE white roots. You can be sure that I had my make-up on this morning!
OHHHHHHHH, that's a killer. Grandmother. HMFPFH....I am sure I would get the same reaction if I didn't color my hair. I would LIKE to think I have a young face, but, well, it's probably just not true. :)
Well, the furnace man thought Pickle was Rob's grandfather - Pickle was about 45 and Rob was 2!
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