The girls went back to school this week... *sigh* That means our short vacation from grocery shopping is over. You're probably thinking, "Oh, Sarah, stop being so dramatic. It's just groceries." Ha! You think you know, but you have no idea! We've definitely got it down to a science, but it's still rough. It starts with printing The List. The List contains just about everything we've ever bought at Costco and is kind of our bible. Heaven forbid we misplace The List; when that happens we end up with four bags of Veggie Straws and two cases of black olives. So anyway, with The List in hand we venture to the storage room and take inventory of what we have and argue if two boxes of Bagel Bites is enough to get the girls through a week or if we should buy one more. Ten minutes later we are on the road to the Yorba Linda Costco. Yes, there is a Costco in Fullerton and yes, it's just down the street; however, for our own personal sanity we blatantly refuse to shop there. The place is a freaking madhouse; it's packed all the time and the employees are morons. House Dad and I are practically professionals at grocery shopping and considering the amount of money we spend on a weekly basis, we pretty much demand competent workers.
As we pull in, I do a quick scan of the parking lot to determine the number of window shoppers that are currently moseying up and down the aisles of Costco saying things like "Oh, Earl! They've got that twenty pound bag of almonds you like!" (Let me also tell you that we don't just go to Costco whenever. If you want to make it in and out in under an hour and not be cussing up a storm when you leave, then it's best to go on a Friday night, Saturday or Sunday morning right when the doors open or Sunday evening about 5:30.) House Dad grabs a flat cart and I grab a regular cart. First up is the snack section....Nutrigrain bars, Goldfish, Wheat Thins, tortilla chips, Wait! House Dad get two bags! They are inhaling them!, Kirkland Trail Mix, 100 calorie Snacks....if possible we don't even stop and park the carts to grab the stuff, we just let them keep rolling. Now cereal....Cheerios, Frosted Flakes, ?Special K Red Berries?, nah, they're not really eating it, Oh look! They've got Cinnamon Toast Crunch! We continue on through the store, trying to keep to the outskirts of the store as the foot traffic is much less. At some point we stop to re-pack the cart. House Dad swears that I can't pack a cart to save my life because I pretty much just chuck the stuff inside for the first few aisles. Really though I'm just waiting to get enough box-ey items so I can form a base layer in the cart. Oh ye of little faith. The frozen aisles are usually pretty entertaining/exciting. Although Costco sells in bulk, they typically don't offer a variety of flavors so when I see that they have blueberry Eggo waffles it's like the clouds have parted and angels are singing from the heavens! We also argue a bit more about what meat items to purchase....we just bought regular chicken breast, but do they need the teriyaki chicken breast? Have they been eating the BBQ chicken wings? Crap, I can't remember. Eh, throw some in. So by this point, we're at the produce section and it's our last stop. Normally there is room in the cart to fit all the produce and have room leftover. Not this week though.... because it's our first trip of the semester we had to buy a lot of stuff that we normally don't buy on a weekly basis so space in the cart is in high demand. To the average joe the carts are full. To House Mom and Dad, we can still layer stuff over the top and balance a few things on the end. Now we park the carts and venture into the terribly cold produce section. It never ceases to amaze me how much the other shoppers lack common sense. The produce area is not big, certainly not big enough for everyone to drive the carts in because they are for whatever reason terrified to leave their cart outside. Really, Blue Hair Lady and suburban housewife, no one is going to steal your two dozen pack of Kirkland light bulbs. We start at one side of the section and work in a clockwise pattern....regular romaine, mini romaine, broccoli, green beans, sugar snaps, white mushrooms - stop to unload on cart - bell peppers, carrots, cucumbers, oh look! They have artichokes again! Such a deal, get three! - stop to unload again - strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, did we miss anything? asparagus! celery! - unload. Now for the non-refrigerated produce...apples, grapes, avocados, onions, oranges, hmm....they have persimmons, do you think the girls might like persimmons? Pause for a moment to consult The List. Alright House Dad, I think we're done. Now comes the arduous task of maneuvering two very full carts through the throngs of people. Somehow we make it to the front without the raspberries falling off the front of the cart and pick out a line with one of the more efficient checkers and box boys. A lot of the employees recognize us and remember we have some sort of interesting living situation that requires us to be there on a weekly basis, but every once in awhile we get a newbie. The conversation goes something like this: "Wow, that's a lot of (insert one of the following: orange chicken, hot dogs, shredded beef). You must have a big family!" "Yep, we've got 24 kids." "Whoa! Really!?" "No not really, but kind of. We are the house directors for a sorority and do the grocery shopping. This is a week's worth of food." "A week? Dang!" Now that the novelty has worn off, House Dad and I are trying to gauge how much money we spent based on the length of the receipt that has already printed. It's looking a little long this time; we'll be cutting it pretty close. *Cue last item* *Deep breath* Yes! *Cue fist pump* We came in just under budget! The checker hands me the receipt, which requires five folds to even fit in my pocket. Now, if we're lucky the box boy did a good job and packed everything in large boxes. Most of the time though we'll get a complete idiot who puts half of the food in boxes and then throws the smaller things, like salad dressing, into the nooks and crannies. I'm not even nice about it anymore. "Yo. We need that all in boxes. Do you know how long it will take us to unload if it's not? My hands are only so big dude." Time to pack it in the truck. House Dad has an FJ Cruiser, which has pretty decent cargo space when you fold the seats down. House Dad crawls inside and then I hand him the boxes, which are a little bigger than copy paper boxes. He stacks them three across, two high and two deep. Yep, that's 12 boxes. And that doesn't include some of the smaller boxes, like cereal, or the flats of soda. At one point, House Dad will realize that the current packing arrangement could be improved and he'll pull a few out, scratch his head, and move some boxes around. Meanwhile I'm trying to estimate the amount of cubic space left in the truck and comparing that with the couple remaining boxes. I'm actually a little scared this time. Am I going to have to hold stuff on my lap for the drive home? Do we need to strap stuff to the roof? Well, Super-Duper House Dad saved the day and managed to make it all fit. It's actually packed so tight I'm confident that if we got in a car accident and rolled, the food wouldn't shift at all. I think the best part was the guy that was parked next to us. I saw him eye-balling our full carts as he rolled up with his one full cart. I think seeing House Dad's superb packing job inspired him to do the same....too bad he had a two door Mercedes with a tiny trunk. lol.
So we make it home without any casualties and then start in on the unpacking. I feel bad for any girls attempting to even walk through the kitchen at this point. All available counter space has been consumed with food and we use the floor as a place to chuck the trash generated from the unpacking. The unpacking process is truly a process. You can't just open up the fridge and put the food in. First, you have to find the shelf you want to use, toss any open tin cans with sandwich bags over the top, pull out any Tupperware, move any of the girls' personal food to the designated shelves, consolidate the condiments which should be stored on the door but always end up elsewhere and wipe out the spilled (insert: grapes, jelly, syrup, soup, soda, odd colored sticky substance). Now you can fill the shelf with food. Being the anal retentive/awesome House Mom that I am, I can't just leave the fridge or drawers without rearranging them in some sort of logical fashion. I mean, really, I feel like all the cheese should be in the same drawer. (*Flashback* One time, in mid-cheese drawer organization I pulled out the gallon-size freezer bag of shredded cheese. I should have known better than to pull it out by the bottom. In slow motion I watched the entire bag's contents spill on to the floor because the last person to use it neglected to seal the bag.) We finally finish stocking, make several trips to the dumpsters to throw out all the boxes and trash and breath a sigh of relief. We're done...at least for a couple days. 
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