Missing Kansas

I went to Base this morning with all three kids. Never good odds, but lately I have been using marshmallows as bargaining tools*, and it actually went pretty okay.

We did the Post Office, Commissary, and "Story Time" at the library before heading off Base and making a quick stop at Medelo's (the Portuguese Grocery Store) for milk and yogurt.**

The Commissary has these very cool three seaters cart/buggies^ which bless my life each time I go shopping with all three kids and just myself. Praise the Lord for small miracles.

But Medelo's does not have any such option. In fact, their carts are the same terrible-sideways-wheel-rolling-carts that they have in Turkey, and Abigail's seat doesn't include a belt. Never good when I am going 1 on 3.

But I'm only grabbing a few things so I put my one Euro in the grocery cart to unleash it, deposit Abigail in the baby seat, allow Sidge to sit inside the big part of the cart (please don't tell JB)^^, and let Isaac help me push the cart.

After telling Isaac that we couldn't look at the toys today due to my low level of energy, we headed to grab 7 things: 2 gallons of milk, 2 packs of yogurt, one bag of lettuce, and 2 packs of Chicken. Seven items in total.

Medelo's is always very crowded. Both inside and outside. The parking outside is designed for tiny European cars (of which my van does not even come close to qualifying) so I always have to either (a) pray a lot, or (b) just park far away and walk. Once inside, the crowds are no less dense. The carts are difficult to steer, the people don't speak English (can you believe it?!) and, well, I have three kids.  

So I was excited that I was below the required number of items for "Express Checkout" at Medelo's. Granted, there isn't even a number on their "Express Checkout" signs, but heck, I only had seven items. That has to be "Express." Right?

Wrong.

I get in line with my cart, and immediately, the woman at the register makes a "tsk-tsk" noise, shakes her hand, and points to the sign.

I look up at the sign. There is no number. It says something in Portuguese about Express but there is no number.

The woman at the register doesn't speak English. When you are flustered, finding your second language (especially when it is only three months old) is not easy. Thank goodness the woman in line in front of me spoke English.

Woman in line says: "You have a cart."
I say: "I know, but I only have seven items."
Woman in line says: "It doesn't matter. You have a cart."
I say: "I don't understand."
Woman in line says: "You have to have one of the little hand baskets."
I say: "But I can't carry a hand basket. I have a baby. And two little boys."
Woman in line says: "It doesn't matter. You can switch your stuff to a hand basket if you want. Then you can use this line."
I say: "That's okay. But thank you for explaining it to me."

What the woman didn't say was, "You can put your seven items in a hand basket, take your baby and youngest boy out of the cart, leave your hand basket on the floor, take all the kids outside, walk grocery cart back to return area, retrieve Euro, come back inside, and then get in the 'Express Lane'."

I don't think so.

So instead, I took my cart with my three kiddos over to the regular lane. While waiting in the very long line, I took a look to see if there was a reason for this rule. Maybe the lanes were narrower or something and couldn't fit carts. But they were not. The lines were exactly the same (other than the sign above which is written in Portuguese and must say something about hand baskets which I can't read.)

I admit. Culturally things are not so far removed from America here in the Azores. It is nothing like Turkey. But there are still little surprises that leave you just a bit confused, frustrated, and reminded that you "aren't in Kansas anymore." The rule actually makes sense. Forget counting items. If you can fit it in a hand basket, it qualifies.

But some days, I really miss Kansas.

Footnotes
* I tell the boys that when they get home they will get five mini-marshmallows. As they disobey or fight during the outing, I can take one marshmallow away at a time. This allows them, to, hopefully, get at least something when they get home which prevents and "all or none" issue for both me and boy. I have tried giving one reward, and ultimately, I am hesitant to invoke the "big Daddy" and, if I do, they absolutely lose their mind with sadness. Much crying results.

** The local milk is much healthier (due to lessened pasteurization) and much cheaper. It is $1.50 for a half gallon organic compared to $4.50 for Organic Valley at the Commissary. As far as yogurt, he Base has next-to-no yogurt choices. Maybe two or three kinds, and they are usually not there because they've been bought out or the delivery plane never arrived. But the Portuguese store has nearly two whole aisles of yogurt and yogurt drinks. These people really like this stuff here!

^JB grew up calling a cart a buggy. I cannot bring myself to say buggy, and if JB is being honest, he has come to my side now. He mostly calls it a cart now. (Thank the good Lord.)

^^ JB had an adult patient who fell out of a grocery cart as a child and was permanently impacted by this. He does not think kids should be anywhere near a cart unless secured. Because Sidge is old enough to stay seated, sometimes I fudge on this rule a bit. However, truly, grocery carts can be very dangerous and should be respected. Living in Turkey where kids were always just loaded into them, I lost a lot of my worry about them.