I usually avoid Walmart. I won’t get into the reasons why – chances are you either A) also avoid it yourself, or B) would think I was ridiculous if I told you what I hate about the place. But I don’t like to support the company. Besides, Target and I have the kind of relationship where I really don’t feel comfortable consorting with other big-box stores.

But even I must admit that, for some kinds of shopping, Walmart is the best place to go. This morning, I needed to pick up a couple of cheap picture frames. This weekend, we had two frames knocked off the wall, with their glass smashing as they hit the ground. (As the mother of three boys, I actually have “Frame Replacement” as a line item in my monthly budget.) So I needed to get a couple of two-dollar frames. I open them and scavenge for their fresh new glass, throwing the rest away. Target has some pretty cheap frames, and the ones at Kohls get cheap if you hit the right sale. But nobody has those unbelievably cheap, practically cardboard, frames like Walmart does. And the glass inside is as good as any in the nicer frames.

So after dropping Reid at preschool, I headed over to our new Super Walmart. It opened late this fall, a shiny new behemoth of more than 200,000 square feet. Thankfully, Monday morning proved to be a very good time to go, as the parking lot was near empty and the store was quiet. I browsed through the toy aisles, something that, after all these years, I do as mindlessly as opening another diet Coke. The last thing we need is any more toys! But I walk through those aisles anyway.

I chose the frames I needed, while listening to a loud staff meeting being carried on in the electronics department – punctuated often by chants of “Wal – Mart! Wal – Mart!” Mentally, I tried to decide whether that was better or worse than being a server and having to sing your restaurant’s inane birthday song over and over each night.

Then I remembered that I really needed to do some grocery shopping today. The closest I’ve come to food shopping at Walmart in the past has been Twizzlers and the occasional emergency box of Pop-Tarts. But my Dad keeps telling me how cheap the food prices are at Walmart. I felt bad, but thought how nice it would be to just get the shopping done now, and not have to stop somewhere else. So I headed to the other side of the store (a walk which took about seven minutes).

At first I thought maybe I’d just do a light shopping, but then I started to notice how cheap everything was. By the time I got to the “Hispanic Foods” section, and found the salsa I like – in bigger bottles than usual – for about half the Safeway price, I was grabbing stuff off the shelves as fast as I could. I was worried they’d realize how crazy these prices were, and change them before I could get everything to the registers.

I ended up with an overflowing cart, which I wrangled up to the 100-yard-long stretch of registers. Of course, at my end there were four registers open, all of them for those uncommitted customers with 20 items or less (sic). There was one lane open smack in the middle of the expanse, and then, in the distance, if I squinted, it looked like there might be a couple of registers open down at the other end. But there was no way I was going to take the hike down there to find out. So I rolled down to the middle and got in line.

Which is where I stood for the next three and a half hours. Or maybe it just felt like that long. The cashier was pleasant, and was happily having long chats with each customer. Unfortunately, she did not seem to have the ability to chat and scan items at the same time. She also did the old manuever which makes me – who survived a summer in college as a supermarket checker – crazy. She’d pick up an item with her left hand, run it over the scanner, then bag it. Then back with the left hand again, and repeat. I wanted to tell her, “Hey! What about righty? You know, you are allowed to use both hands!” But those who know me will be impressed to know that I didn’t say anything, which is good because it always feels good to rant, but I almost always feel guilty afterwards. I mean, I know she’s not being paid a fair wage. And then there’s the off chance that it would turn out she has some sort of horrible injury and actually can’t use her right hand.

I got through my turn (our chat topics included: the weather, what temperature her daughter kept the house at last night, how Walmart has changed the PLU number for onions, how quiet the store was, the quality of the plastic bags, American Idol and OH MY GOD LADY JUST SCAN MY ITEMS) and the trek out of the store and to my car. As I loaded the bags in the back, I came out of my trance and I realized what I had done. I felt so dirty. I swore to myself that I would never grocery shop at Walmart again. It’s not worth the way I feel afterwards.

But I got that whole cart of groceries for less than $150. Damn you, Walmart.

It was fun to have her along as I got totally different comments from strangers. Usually I get variations on “Three boys! Oh my!” Or, “Did you want a girl?/Are you going to try for a girl?” Or the old, “I had all boys, too, dear. You will survive.” (accompanied by gentle patting of my hand).

But with Kiley we got “Oh, all those brothers and just one girl, she has it made.” And, “Just the one girl? She’s a little princess!” And my favorite, “Your children sound WONDERFUL.” I NEVER get that one when I just have the boys with me.

I also got to watch Aidan and Kiley waltz around Target, complete with dips and turns.

I do wonder why Aidan needed 20 (twenty) glue sticks. There will be 25 or 26 kids in his class. What class needs more than 500 glue sticks for the year? What exactly will they be gluing? Is there some sort of black market in glue sticks, and the teachers plan to sell them off to supplement their salaries?

I’m also wondering why Mack needs, specifically, a ruler with three holes, a fabric pencil case with three holes, and paper with three holes…but no binders or folders with three rings.