All About How I Almost Punched a Guy at Wally World

I'm not typically a violent person. But I literally almost decked a guy in the checkout line behind me at Walmart today. Well, at least I wanted to.

But first rewind.

I was at Walmart with five kids and a 30 week fetus. If that doesn't give you a feel for the sort of mood I was in to begin with, then you've never been at Walmart by yourself with five kids.  On top of that, I'd given in to the kids' begging for one of those gigantic carts with the two extra blue plastic seats in between the handle and the actual shopping cart, thinking this trip would go better if I could keep a few more of them contained. I should have known better, because three minutes after we walked in the door everyone but the one-year-old decided to jump ship and go on-foot...in a different direction. So now, not only am I lugging an empty shopping cart monstrosity, and trying to keep four kids in my field of vision, but I'm desperately trying to remember what on earth I came here to buy in the first place.

Oh ya, bread.

And milk.

And applesauce, but never mind the applesauce, we already passed that isle and we are NOT going back.

Over to the other side of the store for light bulbs and then we'll be done. I'm looking for a specific LED light bulb to go in the ceiling fan in Ollie and Cal's room....except that I can't find it. No, it's not that I can't find it, it's that I can't concentrate on even looking for it, because every time my eyeballs scan over a box with the intent to read the words on it, I'm forced to stop and turn my attention towards my children.

"Please don't pull on her, you're hurting her."

"Come back over here, you need to stay where I can see you."

"No, I'm not buying slushes on the way home."

"Where are your shoes, child?! Did you lose them in the store or leave them in the car?"

"Stop bothering him."

"Don't climb on that. This isn't a jungle gym, it's a grocery store."

"You, stay on this side of the cart. You, stay on the other side. Do not cross sides and do not touch each other."

Yep, I actually sound like this. That's what I've become.

I grab a light bulb that looks like it might be what I need and toss it in the cart. (Turns out it wasn't, and I'll have to go back later. *sigh*)

There are lines several people long at all the open cash registers. (Which is only like three, even though there are 400 of them, why is this?) So, I pull in and wait.

Just as I'm  finishing loading my items onto the conveyor belt a guy comes and gets in line behind us. He's younger than me, probably mid-20s. He has shoulder length curly light brown hair tucked under a baseball cap. He's wearing a plain tan t-shirt, and light jeans with a hole ripped in one knee. His shoes are construction boots covered in what looks like concrete dust. In a voice so loud I'm sure half the store can hear it, he says, "Oh wow, kids! I love kids. Look at all these kids!"

I totally ignore him, because I'm trying to #1 Pay for my stuff #2 Keep my older three from picking up every single item on the rack nearest us #3 Keep my 3-year-old from getting his fingers pinched in the wheel that turns the bagged groceries, and #4 Prevent my 1-year-old from standing up in the shopping cart and falling out on her head.

Kid-lover Yeller Guy takes this as a challenge, and raises his voice even louder.

"I SAID LOOK AT ALL THESE KIDS. SON OF A GUN. ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR. FIVE. WELL, I'LL BE, AND ONE ON THE WAY TOO. YOU SURE HAVE YOUR HANDS FULL, DON'T YA? I JUST LOVE KIDS ALL KINDS OF KIDS, RUNNING EVERYWHERE. HAHA!"

Now I'm ignoring him on purpose, and trying to convince the older three that they need to come closer to me, and maybe help put sacks in the cart. Of course they don't want to. The cashier is trying to ask me something. I don't hear what it is. Kid-lover Yeller Guy isn't deterred.

"FIVE KIDS, AIN'T THAT SOMETHIN'. THREE BOYS AND TWO GIRLS. BOY, I JUST LOVE KIDS ALL KINDS OF KIDS. THE GIRLS ARE SO CUTE. AND THE BOYS ARE TOO. SOMETIMES BOYS ARE SO HOMELY THAT THEY'RE THE CUTER FOR IT. ANYWAYS..."

My card isn't working. I'm not sliding it in the right slot. That's what the cashier is trying to tell me. She's pointing at a sign with directions on it, as if I look like the kind of woman who is going to be able to focus long enough read what it says. I'm ignoring Yeller Guy with all my might. So much so that the cashier is glancing nervously back and forth between the two of us, because it is so obvious that he is talking to me, and so obvious that I am pretending like he isn't.  I'm trying to grab kids and put them on the cart, or in the cart, or anywhere, so that we can go. I'm having trouble squeezing my pregnant belly in between blue cart-monstrosity and the cash register desk so I can reach my grocery sacks to put them in too.

"...HEY! HAVE YOU EVER SEEN THAT MOVIE CHEAPER BY THE DOZEN? WHERE THEY HAVE 12 KIDS AND THEY BUY EVERYTHING IN BULK? YOU'RE ALMOST JUST LIKE THAT! HAHA! HAVE YOU SEEN IT, THEY HAVE LIKE 12 KIDS...."

I turned around and made eye-contact with Yeller Guy for the first time and I gave him the "Death Stare". I seriously wanted to punch his lights out. But I wanted to leave more.

Thank you for making an already unpleasant shopping experience even worse by being an idiot and going on with your idiot comments. At full volume. You're hilarious. *Rolls eyes*

I'm tired of people acting like I'm setting some kind of world record by being out in public with my five kids. That doesn't make me an anomaly. Five is not THAT many. HELLO we live in Utah. If you are surprised by large families, then it's time you got over it. If you don't like large families, that's your business, but keep it to yourself.