Go Big and Go Home

by Cathy

We are avid Costco shoppers now, thanks to my husband's persistence several years ago.  "It's worth it to shop there and it will be cheaper in the long run," he said. True dat. What we didn't expect were the impulse buys, the-things-you-never-thought-you-needed-until-seeing-them-at-Costco effect.

It's fun browsing and checking out what unexpected things you may find on any given trip: Lacoste polos for men, Gucci watches and designer jeans are just some things you may run across. However, because this can turn into a huge money-suck, I usually put on my blinders and head straight for the food items I am there to buy. And I'm usually pretty good about that...

...unless, I go there with my kids.

As a rule, I usually never try to take my kids to Costco if I can help it because the store targets those impulse buys just as effectively to kids as they do to adults and we don't need double the temptation. However, the temptation did come on this last trip with the family, in the form of 53-inch tall stuffed bears.

Stuck like glue and feet firmly planted. ONE of these was going home with us today.

My kids have seen these impossibly ginormous bears on two other occasions at Costco and each time they beeline right to them, pull one out, throw it on the floor, roll, writhe and flop around on it, lay there on top of it, petting it, jumping on it, ooohing at the softness of it and aaahing at the comfortable reprieve it provided. I always made them put it back but today, I said, 'What the hell. It's better than having a real live dog they've been (no pun intended) hounding me about lately.' So they decided on a color and off Honey went into our cart while Bella was delightedly astonished ("Wow! I can't believe you guys actually agreed to buy something FUN for us!") and Ari was jumping like a flea around our cart all the way through checkout.

Costco shopping: milk, tissues, big honking stuffed bear

My husband is not any better. He fell in love with a new dining room set that was available to take home in FIVE giant separate boxes. Right there! Stocked on the floor!

"Um where are we going to put those boxes to take them home?!" I questioned incredulously. "See? This is why we need an SUV," I made my case for the umpteenth time. But do we really need a new dining room table? Really? Costco makes us think we do.

As we strolled around crashing into everything and everyone because we couldn't see where we were going, we spotted several other carts sporting Teds by equally duped parents who exchanged knowing smiles with us as we crossed in the aisles. We know.

We drive one of the biggest sedans on the market but when packed to the hilt with giant tubs of pasta salad, large pizzas, vats of fruit salad, four people and a gargantuan bear, literally stuffed between the two kids in the back seat, we were low-riding it pimp style, back to our house, getting more knowing smiles from other sympathetic Costco parents in neighboring cars. They know.

"We need to buy that SUV, honey," I mentioned yet again as I climbed over a palette of LaCroix and Ice Mountain bottled water to get to the passenger seat, where I had to sit Indian style.
"We don't need an SUV," his stubborn ass replied. "Those things are gas guzzlers."
"And you think this isn't?! This has just as big of an engine, but we don't have the height! The room! Hey, you wanna shop at Costco, we need a bigger vehicle to haul the stuff home in."

Once home, we again literally stuffed our tiny refrigerator to the gills, whereupon every time we opened the barely-shut door, the fridge literally spit out tubs and bottles that were wedged between other slippery containers and popped out onto the floor as if saying, 'OUT! I have no more room!!'

"This is ridiculous!" I yelled hunched over picking up said tubs and bottles. "Honey, we need a bigger fridge!"
"No we don't," said my purposely overly stubborn husband. "You just have to learn how to organize."
"Organize? How do we organize ALL of these things with such little room? Hey, you wanna shop at Costco, we need a bigger fridge."

In their excitement, the girls quickly rearranged their room, throwing doll cradles and yet more stuffed animals into the walk-in closet to make room for Big Bear. He now sits in front of Ari's bed, taking up a ridiculous amount of much needed floor space. In fact, I had to hide a pop-up hamper filled with princess dress-up clothes under the bear's ass for him to sit on since I had no more floor space left in the room.

"Honey, we need a bigger house," I lamented as I returned from battling it out with the grizzly and plopped into a kitchen chair, exhausted. Joe glared at me, his cheekbones exploding with unsaid anger. "Hey, you wanna shop at Costco, we need room for Big Bears."