The Not-So-Savvy-Shopper or A Somewhat DELIcious Experience

It was with great anticipation a few weeks ago, that I headed out to attend the Daily Herald’s Savvy Shopper class. Though I’d been cutting coupons and receiving the Savvy Shopper emails for quite some time, I didn’t really have the hang of the program, nor was I saving money like I wanted to.

Amy, the Savvy Shopper, promised to change that. And at the end of her class that was jam- packed with information, I could see why. I left inspired—and somewhat overwhelmed—armed with her syllabus as well as a full page of notes. I couldn’t wait to get started, to shop and save.

After spending considerable time putting together my shopping binder, I headed to Smiths for my first Savvy Shopping experience. Once there I matched cereal sales to coupons for killer deals. Then it was on to the granola bars which, sadly, Smiths was out of. But no problem, per Amy’s suggestion, I’d simply ask for a rain check at the checkout.
Next, I headed to the beer aisle, in search of a nifty thing called a “beer rebate.” Feeling more than a little sheepish, I walked slowly up the aisle, studying each case of beer, looking for a tear pad with a rebate that would save me serious cash. I hoped not to run into any neighbors while I was shopping and could only imagine—if I did—the phone calls my husband might be receiving.

Bishop, are you aware your wife was in Smiths on Monday morning, shopping for alcoholic beverages?!

But then, just as Amy had promised, there it was—a tear pad on top of a pack of Budweiser. As quickly as possible I ripped one off (one and only one, I want to be a savvy shopper, not a greedy one) and left the Coors behind. Once I was safely ensconced on the bread aisle, I read the rebate form and found that if I bought $15.00 worth of deli items, I would get $15.00 back. How simple. How exciting! Though I’d been embarrassed to be seen searching amongst the beer, I had no qualms about Budweiser picking up the tab for my dinner. I bought a pizza, some lunch meat (both rare treats at our house), and some feta cheese for a spinach salad (all it took to convince my husband that this was a good program).

The rest of the shopping trip went well. I matched more coupons, then headed to the checkout to make my purchases and see my savings.

About this time—and because it had taken more time to shop—my sweet, three-month-old son decided he’d had enough and began howling. He doesn’t really cry, but makes a very loud scream-howl type of sound when he is hungry. It is not pleasant, and there’s nothing that will quiet him at this point, except me. And I wasn’t exactly available to nurse at that moment.

Hurrying as fast as I could, I threw the groceries on the conveyer belt and handed the cashier my coupons and fresh values card. In return he gave me a slightly irritated look that I read as Bad Mom. Can’t you get your kid to be quiet? I couldn’t, and felt far worse for Andrew, hungry as he was, than the impatient employee.

As I stood there, trying to calm my son, and thinking about his need to eat, a phenomenon known to all nursing mothers kicked in—my milk let down. It was then I remembered I wasn’t wearing any nursing pads (for those non-nursing readers, these are wonderful little pads that are worn in your bra to collect your milk, so your shirts aren’t constantly and embarrassingly wet). In my haste to get everyone out the door to carpool, I’d skipped the make-up and the nursing pads. And while I didn’t really care that the male cashier was seeing me without mascara, I did care that in about thirty seconds he’d be seeing me with two round, wet spots on the front of my black, fitted shirt.

Panic set in, and I did the only thing I could think of—I pulled my diaper bag backpack off my shoulder and clutched it to my chest, as if I were afraid someone was about to rob me and make off with the Huggies inside. You can imagine just how savvy I was feeling right about then. The cashier was giving me an even stranger look now, and I didn’t dare glance down to see if my shirt was the reason why. It seemed to take forever for the last few items to ring up—and even longer for him to deduct my coupons, which by now, I really didn’t care about. In fact, I probably would have paid twice the price for all the items in my cart, JUST TO GET OUT OF THE STORE FASTER!

The courtesy clerk asked if I needed any help.

“Yes,” I felt like saying. Isn’t it obvious I need a lot of help? I’m the mother of five—five (and that is a scary number, I’m telling you). I have to keep track of schedules from four different schools. I have to worry about college applications an AP exam dates for my oldest. Two of my children are in braces—at two different orthodontists, of course. I have science fairs, birthday parties, field trips, and check-ups to coordinate. I have to remember what appointments my husband has and when. I spend my evenings running around our kitchen table, helping my girls with geometry, algebra, biology, and health. I do at least four loads of laundry every day, and I’ve constantly got a sink full of dishes because all these kids are always fixing food, eating us out of house and home. Which is why I decided that now, during the most insane period of my life, is a great time to learn to be a savvy shopper, so we could maybe get our grocery bill to be less than our mortgage! Except that this youngest child, my baby, doesn’t seem to care for this program. He doesn’t care about groceries—won’t even take a bottle. He only wants to nurse and will continue to scream until he does. So hurry and get those groceries bagged, buddy!

At last the cashier handed me my receipt, and still holding the diaper bag to my chest, I grabbed my cart and steered my screaming infant out of the store. As I loaded my car, I realized I’d forgotten to get the rain checks, but even the thought of getting my family’s favorite granola bars for free was not enough to get me back inside.

Andrew screamed, and my milk ran in rivulets down the center of my shirt the whole drive home. My savings did not feel like much of a victory, but rather a mess. Sort of like everything else in my life right now. I fed Andrew, put the food away, did more laundry, washed more dishes. Then my family came home.

They were astonished to find a pizza in the freezer, something to drink other than water or milk (and no, it wasn’t beer, though I could use a good, strong drink by about 4:00 each day), and something for their lunches besides peanut butter and jelly. Everyone was appreciative and excited. Some even showed it by being a little more helpful. I felt the tiniest bit savvy when one of my kids—upon seeing Salami in the fridge—said, “cool, Mom.”

Guess food really is the way to their hearts. It was enough that I’ll try savvy shopping again . . . in a month or two.