Oh, Wal-Mart, How Much I Hate You

I live in a town where less than 15,000 people reside. The main stores to shop at are Safeway, Rite-Aid, and Wal-Mart. I try to drive to WinCo (much cheaper than Safeway) to do the majority of my grocery shopping, but it is a good 20 minutes away, and by the time I load all the kids and the groceries two times, I am ready for a nap. Last year our Wal-Mart decided to start stocking some basic groceries, creating a one-stop-shopping scenario, which is cool when you are hauling screaming kids around with you. I have another cookie exchange to go to tomorrow, and I am out of chocolate chips, so I decided to brave the weather this morning and head to Wal-mart to pick some up along with a couple of other needed items (pull-ups, a dustpan, and wax paper). By the time we got in and the greeter handed us our cart, John and I literally looked like we had stepped out of the shower. Even Charlie's legs were nearly soaked with water, such is how hard it is raining right now. I have to tell you, though, I was in such a good mood when we got there, that I wasn't even stressed about John running free in the store. He was behaving pretty well, sticking close, and I was thinking, "I don't know why I don't take the kids out shopping more often. It's not that bad." Until we hit the baby section. While I was trying to find a brand of pull-ups that would not leak, John went around the corner and found a toy that he really liked (one that you put balls in and then it "pops" them out), and he tried to put it in the cart. Thus ensued the biggest tantrum I'm sure Wal-Mart has ever seen. When I told him we weren't buying it, John threw himself on the floor and started crying, no screaming, that he wanted this toy, and why couldn't he get a present. I tried to pull him away from the toy but he wouldn't budge. I tried walking away, thinking he would follow, but I could just hear him screaming two aisles away. People were looking at me, as if to say "what are you going to do about this, you horrid mother with the spoiled child who is ruining my shopping experience with all of the screaming?" I went back and got John and lifted him into the cart, his ultimate punishment, threatening him that he would have to ride in the cart until he would stop crying. His hysterical crying shifted from being mad about the toy to screaming, "I miss my dad. I miss my cousins. I miss S-A-N-T-A-A-A..." How can you miss someone you've never met was my question for the day, but, whatever, that boy has a flair for drama (like his mother, perchance). Quickly I pushed the cart over to the food section because I could do without the pull-ups and the wax paper, but I had to get the chocolate chips so I start baking when I got home. I couldn't find them, and over John's still shrill cries, I turned to a Wal-Mart employee and sweetly said (pretending that I didn't have child experiencing a meltdown in the cart), "I'm not finding your chocolate chips. Where might they be?" And, wouldn't you know it, that Wal-Mart employee said to me, "Sorry, ma'am, but we sold out of chocolate chips yesterday. We should have some tomorrow, though."

Oh, Wal-Mart, how much I hate you. Don't you know you are the only place to shop in this town and are invariably out of whatever I come in to buy? Here is a short list of things Wal-Mart has run out of right before I have come in to purchase it: a sprinkler, skim milk, a swimming pool, red binding tape, a spring-form pan, parchment paper, benedryl, punch balloons, boys shoes (size 9 1/2), Orange Clean, Oreo 100 Calorie Packs, a doll that wets, a heart-shaped cookie cutter, potting soil, lawn chairs, fingernail clippers, carmex, Dry Idea Unscented Clear-Gel deodorant (the only kind I use), muffin tins, canning jars, freezer jam pectin, an umbrella, black tights, a white t-shirt in my size, a white t-shirt in my husband's size. Throw in the fact that Wal-Mart.com never shipped me a diaper bag I ordered six months ago, and has yet to refund me my money, and I am about ready to walk into the store with a backpack full of explosives.

When I found out they were out of chocolate chips, I am proud to say that I did not throw a fit. I picked up my very wet, screaming child, and my baby in his car seat, leaving my cart in the middle of an aisle, and left the store without buying a thing. Today. But you know I'll be back there tomorrow (hopefully by myself) to buy pull-ups because I only have one left. What are the odds that they will be sold out?

Oh, Wal-Mart, how much I hate you, because what choice do I have? You have a strangle hold on me, you cruel, cruel store. Where else in this town can I go to buy a package of toilet paper or a toothbrush? Rite-Aid? Um, no. Have you seen their prices?

Amy