When the husband goes shopping

I feel the need to start this story by telling you all the good things about my husband. He’s kind, compassionate, giving and extremely smart in a crazy intelligent kind of way. I’m grateful for all he does for our family and myself. But I also feel the need to let you know that he has flaws. Few flaws. But they are there. Would it be okay if I gave you an in-depth look into my husband’s mind? It can be a beautifully-annoying place when he attempts to grocery shop.

Warning: what I’m about to talk about next is AN EXACT reenactment of a true story. If you are easily agitated, it’s best to stop reading now.

Since my husband works on the road, he’s footloose and fancy free when he walks in the door for one week a month. For this reason, I thought it would be okay to send him to the grocery store for the two things we needed for dinner. As best as I can tell by the detailed description he gave me once he got home, the comprehensive map and written outline were enough for him to be able to procure milk and tortillas with little-to-no discomfort. But then he walked down the cereal aisle and that’s when the phone calls started rolling in.

Chase: Babe. I’m at Fred Meyer.

Katie: Good job?

Chase: And the cereal is on sale.

Katie: Shut. The. Front. Door. I’ve been grocery shopping for ten plus years and I’ve never seen the cereal go on sale. This is a miracle of Biblical proportions.

Chase: I’m sensing the sarcasm in your voice.

Katie: Good! If you didn’t, I would be highly concerned.

Chase: But this is a really good deal. We should stock up.

Katie: Babe, I can tell you really want to get some cereal. Since we regularly eat cereal, it really would be so helpful if you would pick some up. Thank you.

Chase: Okay, will do.  

Now if this were the end of the story, I obviously wouldn’t be writing about it. So let’s keep going.

30 seconds later. Phone call number two.

Chase: Still in cereal aisle.

Katie: Okay.

Chase: There are eight different varieties on sale. Three are more sugary based. I had planned on getting six boxes but now I’m not sure.

Katie: I’m hesitant to ask why because I’m afraid I might come across as more vested than I really am.

Chase: Well, I’ve done the math on the cost per ounce…

Katie: Math?

Chase: And based on the size, some are actually a better deal. But since the kids don’t eat sugar cereal, I’m concerned that getting six boxes might seem like too much.

Katie: Oh that’s right. Our kids neeeevvvver eat sugar cereal (the one week a month that you’re home).

Chase: Wait, should I get sugar cereal?

Katie: Babe, I trust you. It’s your call.

Chase: It just seems like six boxes is a big commitment and I don’t want to mess up.

Yes, peeps. My husband told me that making a purchase of somewhere in the neighborhood of $15 was a big commitment. I’m shocked he showed up to our wedding.

Fifteen seconds later. Phone call number three.

Chase: Still here.

Katie: This is weird.

Chase: I’ve decided I’m going to get two boxes of Fruity Pebbles and we can make a chart so the kids know to only eat it every third day.

Katie: Chart?

Chase: So should I get the fruity Fruity Pebbles or the chocolate ones?

Katie: Chart? Our youngest showed up to school today with only one shoe and you think I’m going to get my life together enough to make a chart to monitor cereal consumption?

Chase: It’ll be easy. You can do it.

Katie: You know me acting as The Cereal Enforcer is actually a chore, not something that brings me any joy?

Chase: So no on the Fruity Pebbles?

Katie: I. Don’t. Care. I have now wasted eighty precious seconds of my unlimited cell phone minutes discussing a topic I blindly support you on.

Chase: Okay. Well, it’s just that…

Katie: Nope. I give you full authority to handle this.

Two seconds later. Phone call number four.

Katie: If I hear the words “Fruity Pebbles” come out of your mouth, I’m not coming home tonight.

Chase: I just wanted to let you know that I figured it out.

Katie: I’m proud of you.

Chase: And I did get two boxes of uuuuhhhh.

Katie: Goodbye.

When I got home, the kids were rejoicing over their new cereal haul and rabidly shoving mouthfuls down their throats. Overall, it was a good day at the Burke house because I only had to go to the grocery store mentally and my husband figured out he could do hard things.

Can I ask just one small favor, dear reader? If you see my husband at Fred Meyer, standing in the cereal aisle while dialing his cell phone, will you “accidentally” run your cart into his ankles? Trust me when I say, my sanity is on the line.