walmart-induced panic attack

After arriving in town (Zion to some of you out there), it was necessary to procure some supplies for our three-week visit. I considered bringing my own diapers and wipes and baby food and such, but with two measly suitcases allowed to me (unless I felt so inclined to pay the $25 per additional bag, thank you very much, Delta) and the prices I pay for these things in New York, I decided a trip to the local Walmart would be in order upon my arrival. I considered Target for about 10 seconds and then realized that Walmart is cheaper, and I felt good about saving a few bucks even thought this move has likely crippled an entire town somewhere down south due to the evil conglomerate. (Give me a break--I've been paying ridiculously higher prices for nearly a year now. I think I deserve a trip to the local Walmart.) Zach and I got in the car and headed over after leaving Sarah with Grandma (very smart move on my part as Walmart and four-year-olds are not a winning combination). At first I felt like I was in a suburban paradise. I got my products for ridiculously cheap prices. The selection was huuuuugggggeeeee. I could get whatever brand, style, flavor, color, or size I wanted. I'll admit this was certainly a perk. Yogurt for $.50? Are you kidding? I'll take eight! Cheetos on sale? You bet I'll buy a bag. Milk for $2?????? This must be a dream come true. So maybe it wasn't a good idea to shop while hungry. I got my wipes, my diapers, some baby food, and my other necessities. It was at about this point that things took a turn for the worse. It took like 40 minutes to get to the front of the store from the back. Zach decided that the shopping cart contraption I had strapped him into was not nearly as awesome as riding in style in his stroller and started to squirm and scream. Where has the binkie gotten to? Lovely. Retrace steps for 10 minutes. Decide that in a store the size of the entire city of New York not likely to find missing binkie. Return to baby section to buy more binkies. Walk another 40 minutes to front of store. Wait, wait, wait in line. Finally the lady is checking me out and filling bag after bag after bag. Find missing binkie and inform lady I no longer need the new binkies. The woman behind me kindly informs me Zach is missing a shoe. Crap! Oh, right, it's in the diaper bag. Phew! At this point I'm wondering how I'm going to carry all these bags. Oh, right--shopping cart! Stressing over whether all my bags are making it from the shopping bag whirlygig contraption they use to the actual cart for transport to the cart. It turns out this is my responsibility. Store is feeling bigger and bigger. Perhaps I am a bit agoraphobic. Anxiety kicking in. Swipe card. Enter zipcode. Breathing faster. Must escape soon. Receipt. Feeling sweaty. Feeling hot. Too much space in this store. Twenty more minutes to walk from register to door. Ummmm, where is the car? Could this parking lot be any bigger? Ummmm, did I put my credit card back in my wallet? Must check. Yup. Found car. Where are the keys? Rooting around in bag. Keys. Unlock car. Load bags. Breathe. Breathe. Screaming child in carseat. I'm not sure he likes these wide open spaces either. What am I supposed to do with this darn cart? Leave the child to return the cart? Put child back in cart to return cart and then replace child in carseat? Breathe. Breathe. Hands are feeling clammy. Leave child. Return cart to cart corral 20 feet away while feeling guilty for leaving child unattended in car. Run back to car. Get in. Try to calm breathing. How is that I used to do all of this routinely? I think I might need more practice before moving to the suburbs of New Jersey.