And then there are the days you're all alone. The house is devoid of food. You have taken stock and made the list and prepared the children and remembered the shopping bags.
Of course, you forget the list and the children forget you or any word of virtue you've ever spoken. The grocery store is full and they trail behind you leap-frogging and crashing into the cheese aisle. One physically removes himself from the trolley (cart) at the till (register), getting stuck and crying to anyone who will listen. You bag your own bags and give your brood the curtest, loudest (because you just don't care anymore how quiet your American voice is) direction to Go. Now.
Everyone does the perp walk down to the car, sitting fretfully in a row in the backseat waiting for the promise of crisps. You pop open each bag and steer the car into the McDonalds drive-thru for your own small consolation of diet coke with ice.
And then you cry. Because you just miss your parents and your siblings and your home so much your heart feels forever misplaced.
Yes, sometimes, those days happen, too.
For these #31days I'm writing on what it's like to be at home in Ireland. No matter the continent, I will occasionally find myself in tears after grocery shopping. Ever happen to you?