The grocery store is not the place you wanna be the morning of the last day of school. As a mother of school age children, it is assumed that you would be at home relishing your child’s last moments before they move up another level on the ladder of life.

Unless you are me.

In which case one would assume the exact opposite.

And one would be correct, by the way.

Honestly, I haven’t been grocery shopping in a week. Supplies have been dwindling. We are down to instant rice, dry cereal, peanut butter and a heel of bread.

Not. Kidding.

Of course, earlier that morning (in our infinite wisdom) my husband and I had eaten the last of the eggs. (As opposed to feeding our young.)

I had nothing to offer my children for breakfast… or lunch… or dinner. (I have nothing to say in my defense so I won’t even try.I’m pretty much limping across the school yearfinish line.)

So off I went, with a 10 minute window to purchase some type of sustenance for the boys. Hair and teeth unbrushed. Remnants of last night’s makeup on my face and the most atrocious, mismatched outfit one could throw together.

I looked like a banshee.

I’m sure I acted like one too.

As luck would have it, I was not the only mother doing the last-day-of-school-food-dash. To say that discovery was a relief is an understatement. We just looked across the aisles at each other and laughed the laugh of the manic mother club.