January 2, 2011
Finally, the Superstore and Victory opened today.
And Mer needed groceries.
So did we, if I am to be completely honest.
However, we could have waited another couple of days, but apparently, Mer couldn't.
In other words, Mer had money and had we not taken her for groceries, she would have gotten her eyebrows waxed, bought new clothes, genuinely all around looked good.
But she would have also been hungry.
At 21, I'm not entirely certain she can discern between looking good and eating.
So I discerned for her.
This expedition, however, turned out to be very interesting.
A learning experience almost.
For both Mer and me.
At Victory, she came out with chicken breast, stew beef, fresh veggies like celery, broccoli, carrots, onions, garlic, etc.
As well as other things. . .things that fall into the "stuff-Mum-would-NEVER-buy-and-probably-doesn't-even-know-are-available-in-this-store" category.
Chicken "tenders" for example.
I have NO idea what part of the chicken a tender come from. . .or if it actually even comes from a chicken.
Beaks, anyone?
And a bag of these huge cut french fries.
Enough to feed an army.
Again, how much potato is really in those fries?
I kept my mouth shut.
Reigned in my maternal self, the one that was screaming, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING????"
Until Stephen started to get that look in his eye, the one that was saying french fries of unknown origins and fried beaks looked mighty tasty.
I did have something to say about that.
I think it was. . . . .
NO!
Stephen was with us.
As a referee.
Previous excursions into the grocery store have left Mer and me unable to communicate in a manner expected of two women, one of whom gave birth to the other.
Our foray into the land of foodstuffs wasn't as traumatic as it has been in the past.
But there were some sticky moments.
Particularly when I took a moment to look in her cart.
And made her, yes, I. Made. Her. put things back.
Because it was either put them back when I said to.
Or do it at the cash register when she was confronted with a reality we have all experienced before.
The holy-shit-I-don't-have-enough-money-I'm-so-embarrassed-what-will-I-have-to-put-back-reality.
Because I was not participating in her reality.
The Mum-I-don't-have-enough-money-so-will-you-pay-the-difference-reality.
I went through her cart with a viciousness I don't think she knew I had.
Gone was the PC Meat Lasagna.
The one that can feed a family of 8 and still have leftovers.
Mr. Noodles. . .bye bye.
Those packets of processed putridity don't even have enough nutrients to qualify as real food.
The D'Italiano Frozen Baguettes, two to a package, were thrust a Stephen with the command, "put that back in the freezer section."
Oh, and while you're there, you can take the following:
Frozen, concentrated Welch's Grape Juice.
Chocolate Milk
Tropicana Orange Juice
And don't think I'm being mean.
The child had lots of other things in her cart to quench her thirst.
Although we did almost come to blows over Kool-Aid.
Which in no way, shape or form will ever resemble "healthy" and "wise" choices.
The Shake'N Bake almost started a smackdown at the check out.
And the cursing that resulted from the removal of the two boxes of Pizza Pockets was enough to make even me blush.
She did get fruit, cheese, milk, eggs, yogurt, sour cream, whole wheat bread. . .
. . .which also required some negotiation. . . wraps, Miracle Whip. . .
. . .because while I was able to get her to price down items like mustard, she abjectly refused to replace her Miracle Whip with the PC brand.
I had to be willing to make some compromises.
On occasion, okay several occasions, I had to ask that all important grocery shopping question,
"Do you REALLY need that?"
Also impetus for a battle royale, especially in the jam and jelly aisle.
Apparently, separating Mer from her Smucker's Double Fruit but 1/2 the calories jam is a place angels fear to tread.
By the end of the shopping phase, but before the cashing out phase, I had managed to remove may of the preservative permeated goods, and replace some brand names with equally good not so brand name goods.
When all of a sudden she blurts out,
"SHIT! I need garbage bags!"
Which ultimately lead to the demise of the PC Meat lasagna.
At first she wanted to trade in her PLPs
(personal lady products)
Until I mentioned that a frozen lasagna wasn't going to do her any good when Aunt Flo came visiting.
There was some resistance.
But Mer got her stubborn nature and overt pigheadedness from someone.
She just chooses to forget who that someone is.
At the checkout, the child who grabbed her cart, ready for a happy adventure grocery shopping had been replaced with a surly, cantankerous young woman still reeling from her mother's cart purge.
As well as said mother's refusal to pony up any cash for those unnecessary items.
In the end, she left the grocery store with lots of food.
And about $3.79.
She also wasn't feeling much love towards her mother, and flatly stated when I was trying to make conversation with her,
"I just don't want to talk to you right now."
The real world is a harsh, cruel place.
On the drive back, I asked her what she planned on doing with this food.
"Eat it", she replied.
D'uh.
"How?", I inquired.
And here was the learning something part.
She had no idea.
It dawned on me (no pun intended) that the idea of cooking food and freezing it was simply not in her repertoire of realistic things to do with food.
Hence, tomorrow morning, at 10.00 am, before she goes to work for 2.30, I will enter Mer's kitchen, provided it is clean, and teach her how to prepare food in advance.
Beef stew.
Stir fry.
Chicken cacciatore.
Mum's homemade biscuits.
Cooked, placed in containers, put in the freezer available for consumption when required.
Given how well we grocery shop, this could be an interesting endeavour.
Either we'll come out of it meeting our desired end.
Or her kitchen will be coated in chicken parts, saturated with spaghetti sauce, bursting with biscuit dough and swimming in stir fry.
Pray for us.
Title Lyric: Cooking Book by Lazytown
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