What Did I Come In Here For?????

As I struggle to carry my squirming child in my arms, the empty diaper bag thrown over my shoulder and his sippy-cup in my right hand, I hurriedly walked thru the automatic doors only to be greeted with the required phrase, “Welcome to Walmart.”  I grab the ever annoying but typical cart that seriously needs an alignment that rattles and shakes with each resisting push.  I am easily sidetracked as I pass a sweater that just might look fabulous on me.  Gee, I wonder if it comes in my size.  The next thing I know I have spent about an hour rummaging through the ladies cloths department for the latest fashion that just may enhance my womanly charms and bring out my inner MILF.  Realizing that I still had a purpose for coming in to this mouse trap, I mosey on through to the next department.  Oh my gosh, I don’t have any shoes that would match this new sweater.  Off to the shoe department, I swear I saw the perfect boots that now is a must that I have.  During the time I am searching through the wonderful world of shoes I receive a text message from Verizon.  Oh yea, it’s the time for the bill to be sent out.  Didn’t I hear somewhere that StraightTalk has an unlimited plan that is even cheaper with more features?  Off to the electronics department, I just know they’ve got to carry StraightTalk phones.  Lucky for me they didn’t have the Smartphone in stock, but the new movie I have been dying to see is finally out, so into the cart it goes.  Scotty McCreary has already put out a CD; didn’t he just win American Idol?  Guess I got to get that too.    After being in the buggy for two hours, my child suddenly starts fussing to get down and walk by himself.  No sooner than I put him down upon the hard aisle way of the store, to the toy department I was chasing after him.  Alright child you can have that toy, now help me find your broder (what he calls his brother) a toy too; can’t be unfair now can we.  As I am walking through the toy department I again start imagining how I am going to make up my makeup to augment my new look—my inner MILF—but swiftly remember that earlier that morning this pistol of a child, sitting in the buggy with his new toy and throwing everything that wasn’t out over the side, had spilled all of my foundation powder all over himself and the floor.  Here we go again, off to another department.  I am soon engulfed in all the products that claim to improve and increase my natural beauty (or I should say, after two kids, what’s left of it) and have not only replaced my powder but also picked out new eye-shadow that will make my eyes pop, a twenty-four (24) hour eyeliner, a mascara that will lengthen and thicken my eye lashes, and smudge proof lipstick in three different shades.  I have now spent three hours in Walmart, approximately $300.00 in items and now I can’t even remember why I had to come here in the first place.  Figuring I had everything, I mosey on over to the check out center, pick which of the three lines that are open would be fastest (I have much to much stuff to attempt the ever annoying self-checkout) and prepare to wait in a horrifically long line.  Oh I am so ready to head to the house, my child has started screaming for reasons I can’t figure out, my back and neck hurt from lifting and bending and walking. Wouldn’t you know, once I start checking out, one of the items I just could not live without moments ago, needs a price check.  Once done with this shopping excursion I make the Solomon vow—as I had previously made just two days ago—that next time I am only coming in for the item I need.  I head tirelessly to my car and slowly-but-surely load all the walmart bags into the trunk.  Now it is time to load the screaming kid into his carseat I am overwhelmed with the most God awful, raunchiest smell . . .  Oh for sweet pea, that is why I came to Walmart, I needed diapers.