There's no crying in grocery shopping!

I cried in the grocery store this morning.

Yes, I was the 26 year-old woman toting two small children, a whole cart of groceries, and crying in the checkout line.

Very embarrasing.

There is an explanation (sort of).

I arrived at the grocery store extra early, ready to brave empty shelves and rotting produce in order to finish my shopping before nap time (and reward myself on the way home with a Starbucks coffee).

It was warmer than ususal, so I decided to leave my coat in the car, smiling at the feel of the sun on my face and joyfully aware of impending spring.

I strapped on my baby, tugged my toddler from his car seat, and set off bravely for the store, applauding myself as I waltzed through the sliding doors (I was still in Oscar mode... feeling very dramatic).

Strutting calmly through the aisles I played the part of a mothering pro, gracefully snatching a bagel for the Tine, leisurely comparing prices and checking off acquired items, graciously smiling at the baby-touchers in produce. 

I tossed in my very last item, Tazo tea for my husband, and proudly reached for my bonus card... which I keep with my keys... in my coat pocket...

OH CRAP!  I didn't lock my keys in the car!

I scrambled through my purse, knowing full well I always put my keys in my coat where they are "easy to find."

After mentally kicking myself in the butt a few times for my stupidity, I pulled myself together and called my husband... again... and again... and again.  In my mind I knew it was ringing, but not at work where he was busy herding 25 sixth graders to their seats. 

No, his favorite U2 song was playing cheerily on our bed at home... where he left his phone, yet again (and honey, if you are reading this, that is your cue to feel very, very bad).

I gathered myself once more and called my next-door-neighbor/ father-in-law to come pick us up.  Once again the phone rang, and rang, and rang... I pictured him throwing the pillow over his head, building his case against whoever had the nerve to call before nine in the morning, but not picking up the phone. 

So I did what every grown woman with children of her own would do... I called my mommy (who lives three hours away).

My mom, who always needs to have the answer, told me to call the police.

Standing in the middle of the grocery store I asked (loudly, what with the panic setting in and all), "Call the police?  What's the number?"

Now of course I was looking for the non-emergency number, but I'm sure anyone who overheard this conversation ducked immediately into the next aisle and proceeded to make fun of the girl who didn't know the number for 911.

We ended the conversation deciding I should talk to someone in the store and see if they could help. 

So I went to a familiar cashier, explained my situation, and waited for someone to take care of me like a Kindergartner in the guidance counselor's office.

The cashier guffawed a little, mustered some advice about the three A's (which we just recently canceled, but thank you very much to the man behind the counter for checking out my last shred of dignity) and basically told me I was out of luck.

In one last attempt I called my mother-in-law, knowing she was at work, but hoping she could get ahold of her husband.

When she picked up the phone I was able to get out, "Hi.  It's Kim," before bursting into tears and ugly crying my way through the story right in the middle of the check out aisle (while my toddler whined for more cookies, my baby fussed in my arms, and the kind cashier continued to scan my milk and diapers without looking up).

I won't bore you with the details of how things worked out from there, but after about an hour of calling, prying at my door with a hanger, and driving around, my father-in-law happened upon a spare key for my car (which would have been great if he found it an hour earlier, but at that point I was just happy to get in my own car). 

After which I drove straight to Starbucks... and don't feel bad about it at all.


What was the worst time you ever locked your keys in the car (please tell me I'm not the only dumb one here)?