How many times can YOU go to a grocery store in one day?

Let's recap this one, shall we?

I woke up this morning when my alarm went off, instead of an hour or so before.  Is it wrong that I was more than a little excited about this?  Not only that, but the boys were still asleep.  Could it be?!  I dragged them out of bed, and then started tackling the list I had made myself.

This is when being an over-achiever is a seemingly bad life choice.  In the first hour, I made my Aunt Patty's veggie dip (quite possibly the best veggie dip around, not biased; total truth), spinach artichoke dip (always a crowd pleaser), and pumpkin pie with a cheesecake layer underneath.  While I was at it, I made the crust for the coconut cream pie...why not?

Then, while the boys did whatever it was they were doing that did not involve being in my face, I decided to clean the bathrooms...and proceeded to get light headed from the fumes in the process.  That may explain my ever-present headache, or perhaps that's just due to a lack of caffeine. 

I finished the dusting I started on Monday, and mumbled under my breath (possibly over and over again) that my dad needs a maid.  Because he does.  A single man with a large home needs someone to clean it sometimes.  Maybe every 2 weeks...Christmas present, perhaps?  Hmmmm...  Anyway, my dad called to say he was headed home from work, but was planning to make a stop or two, so I decided to extend his table to make a square instead of a rectangle.  Probably, I should've had help with this, but I was determined to mark something else off the list before he got home, so I went balls to the wall and did it. 

When he came in, lugging new barstools (one of which was broken when we opened the box), I was just finishing wiping down the kitchen.  Seriously.  I made him go wash his hands in the bathroom, but warned him to not make a mess because I just cleaned that too.  Stay out of my cleaning path, if you know what's good for you...I always say. 

I did a little detective work and discovered that a Sam's near my dad had the same barstools in stock, so off we went.  When we got there, we had to wait at customer service, and this man who might've been channeling Hitler barked at everyone to go stand by the black rope thingy.  Perhaps a sign would suffice?  What do I know?  We returned the broken one, then went to find a replacement...but there weren't any.  I had called specifically to make sure they had them, so we walked up and down the few furniture aisles, heads tilted to the sky, looking for this damn barstool.

When I went off to visit the Nazi again to request assistance, my dad found it...at the very top.  Twenty minutes later, we've added a serving platter that swivels and apple cinnamon spice air freshener to our shopping cart, but we're still waiting on the forklift to come get this blasted barstool down.  I hear the beeping of (what I can only hope is) the forklift getting closer, and as the little parade draws nearer, I actually hear them yelling, "Forklift!  Forklift!" as if the beeping and honking of the horn isn't sufficient.  I'm in awe.  We check the stool before purchasing to make sure it isn't broken, and then we head off to check out.

I suggest the self-checkout because it's the smallest line, and we pay...only the wildly intelligent (please imagine dripping sarcasm) cashier next to us bumped the kiosk thing.  My dad didn't notice the receipt had printed, so he checked out again.  Guess what that means!  Yep, one more trip to see the Nazi customer service rep.  After I explained the situation, he looked puzzled...then refunded one of the tickets.  I made my dad cut in the ridiculously long line of people waiting to leave the store, all waiting for one person to make sure their purchases matched their receipt.

It.  Took.  For.  Ev.  Er.

After that, it was off to Chipotle, partially because the boys were starving, and partially to shut B up.  See, he either doesn't understand what it means to pester the crap out of somebody, or he's really good a manipulative behavior.  Any which way you slice it, visiting Chipotle is often followed with a conversation that goes something like, "Okay, we ate at Chipotle.  Don't ask me again for at least two weeks."  And he doesn't...but on that 2 week mark, he's all over it.  I swear he counts down.

Last on our list (or so I thought) was H.E.B.  We split up, like we did last night at Target, and did pretty well.  The line wasn't terrible, but the aisles were crazy congested.  I looked at the baking aisle and thought (out loud), "Holy crap, I'm so glad I don't have to go down that aisle."

Stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid.

We got home and I put together the other barstool before assisting my dad with more turkey prep.  After he did that, I realized I needed cornstarch...so I went back to H.E.B. and made a trip down the dreaded baking aisle.  When I got back, I started making my dad's coconut cream pie while he was out on the patio, setting up the satellite on the television out there.  I stirred and stirred and stirred...and used up all the vanilla, which would've been fine except I still had B's cake to make.

SO, N and I went to Target where they already had "Bonus Buys!" out...which made me think.  Who has an almost 7 year old and hasn't bought them a single birthday present yet?  Mom of the year, right here.  N and I snagged a few things we knew he wanted, grabbed some wrapping paper and gift bags, and (at the last minute) remembered to grab the vanilla and Velveeta.  Seriously almost walked out without it.

We were almost home, when I thought to look in the DS game box that N had picked for B at Gamestop...only to discover that it was, in fact, still empty.  SUPER!  I love being out and about when I have a crazy list of prep still left to do for my favorite holiday.  We went back, got the stupid game, and headed home. 

Again.  My dad only called once to see where the heck we were.  I was impressed.

I started assembling the ingredients, mixing them as I went, and then tore my dad's pantry apart looking for baking soda.  Who doesn't have baking soda?  My dad, apparently.  Super.  Since I'd already mixed all the ingredients together, I grabbed my keys and wallet, and said, "Okay I'll be right back."  The look on my dad's face was priceless..."AGAIN!?"

Uh, yeah.  Because if I don't go and I have to throw this stuff out, I'm going to be super pissed and if B doesn't have this kgjaosijgioejgoaiej Captain America cake, I'm going to lose mom points.  I dragged him with me this time, and we sang the song that never ends the whole way there.  Do you know that one?

"This is the song that never ends.  Yes, it goes on and on my friend.  Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was, and they'll continue singing it forever just because this is the song that never ends..."

We're everbody's favorite. 

Back to the baking aisle we went.  I definitely got my H.E.B. time in this week.  We met someone in a similar predicament, on their second or third trip to the store, but we were old pros by this time.  I even told them where the lemon juice was...just because I was feeling friendly.

I made a dozen cupcakes and a small layer cake and my dad is outfitted with baking soda AND baking powder, just in case.  He also has a sifter.  I feel this is necessary in life, PLUS it entertains children for hours...or at least minutes.

Now, I'm trying to figure out what to do with the cake(s) while they wait for the frosting that I haven't created yet.  I still have to make whipped cream tomorrow too, not to mention "lawnmower casserole" and mashed potatoes.  I was going to be smart and make them the night before, but I'm getting up at 6:00 to prep the turkey with my dad, so that's a no-go.

Can I just say how much I love the early mornings with my dad on Thanksgiving?  It's just the two of us, drinking coffee and hanging out.  It's one of the many reasons that I love this holiday the most.  He made my job so much easier by chopping up all of the ingredients for the stuffing tonight.  He just bought super-sharp knives, and the last thing I need to do is to try to chop something when I'm not fully awake and have to go through Thanksgiving missing a digit.

Sadly, I could totally see this happening.  Grace AND beauty, right here...

Aubs

For those of you who were counting...five trips to the store.  Five.  I'm counting the one where we were literally turning into the neighborhood and had to turn around.  Five...