I ended up going grocery shopping this morning. An unusual thing. It’s one of Mom’s chores, but her arm and shoulder were really sore this morning, and I did have the day off from work, so I asked if she wanted me to come along to push the cart. She thought about it for a minute, and then said yes.

So, I finished eating my breakfast and ran upstairs to brush my teeth and get my shoes, and then the phone rang. Our annual “check the heater” appointment was supposed to be this afternoon, but . . . surprise! . . . they’d be there in 10 minutes. Um . . . okay . . . I offered to go for her (Mom hates grocery shopping, so this should have been an easy sell), but no, there were things she just knew to regularly buy, she should be there . . but just then, Dad came home from his errands and had enough time before he had to leave for golf that he could babysit the heating fellow.

Good. We left, stopped at the post office so I could get my “Three-Cornered” shawl book into the mail back to Schoolhouse Press (since they sent me a nice, fresh, undamaged copy). Then, on to the grocery store. Halfway through the aisles, my phone rings. It’s Dad. There’s a problem so that the heating guy is going to be longer than planned, but Dad has to leave . . . now. Okay . . . Mom and I wheel our cart up to an employee and ask her to put it aside for us, we’ll be back. Then we drove back to the house, just in time to find Dad pulling out of the driveway (after giving me a moment of worry when I didn’t see my car in the driveway–which he’d moved to get his car around the heating truck).

So. Mom stayed home with the heating guy. Dad left for golf. And I took the shopping list and headed back to the grocery store. I retrieved our cart and finished the shopping. And I was doing fine, being responsible. Not tempted by the potato chips or the cookies or the bakery section . . . but then, I had to pick up ice cream for Dad.

Now, you have to understand. I almost never eat ice cream. I like ice cream. The smooth, creaminess of it. What’s not to love? Except I try to keep my consumption of dairy products down to a reasonable minimum for the sake of my allergies. Milk is a mucus product, and may contribute to bodily mucus . . . or not. There’s a difference of opinions there, and it’s not really that important, but it’s the reason I try to minimize unnecessary dairy products like cheese and ice cream. (Did wonders for my waistline when I started this too, incidentally.) Anyway . . . there sits one of my favorites. An ice cream I haven’t had in ages. A couple years, even. Starbuck’s Java Chip.

Usually, it helps that the smallest size it comes in is quart-size. That’s too much ice cream for me to eat by myself, and since it’s not one of the low-fat versions, Mom won’t eat it (or much of it), and Dad doesn’t like coffee . . . and so my better nature usually wins out and I resist the temptation. It will be wasted, it’s naughty, I shouldn’t eat it, I should get one that the parents like, too . . .

But . . . I guess I’m just weak.

• Tags: Family, General • Permalink:Weak //