We The People of Walmart

Sometimes it’s hard not to judge my family’s insides with another family’s outsides.  Maybe it’s just a “me” thing, but I’ve spent most of my life measuring my personal shortfalls against other people’s successes.

While comparisons can occur at any time, I find most of my comparisons happen while I'm shopping. 

At Walmart, we can hold our own.

I doubt you would find any of my family's pictures plastered on the “People of Walmart” website—though I haven’t checked lately. And while we do live in Oberlin, even I won’t shop there in my pajamas. 

However, when we shop Costco, we’re mostly out of our league. 

The average Costco family size is half the size of the Thompsons.

That alone makes us freakish. 

And while I may be a Walmart diva, I’ve noticed that many Costco mothers look like they’ve either just come from the gym or the hair salon.   I fade by comparison--just look at my grainy black and white membership card.  It looks like I’m missing an upper tooth.

And then, there are the children. 

This past weekend, Kenny wandered Costco in one red Croc and one blue sandal.  His random shoe apparel might be overlooked as long as there is nothing else screaming for attention; unfortunately, there is usually always something else screaming for attention. 

Look more closely, and you’ll notice his crowning plumber’s butt as he delicately hoists the backside of his shorts upward.  Underwear would help, but Kenny isn’t into accessorizing yet.

Max, with his big, doe eyes, is often a visual target.  As cute as he still is, his Kool-Aid stains and chocolate smudges are a lot to keep up with. 

After our most recent excursion, John and I took our abbreviated family of four and sat in the Costco dining area for lunch.  As Kenny inhaled his hotdog in a Nathan’s eating contest kind of way, I noticed a few tables down from us an impeccably dressed family of six.  They were absolutely beautiful.

Obviously they were fresh from a church service or a photo shoot.  Regardless, I envied that mother’s skill.  Never had my family ever looked quite that good.  And if they had, never had they ever appeared that natural.

As I watched Kenny wipe the oozing mustard from his face onto the back of his hand, I silently wondered if my boys would ever adorn themselves with anything else besides dirt.

“I just made a burp and it tasted like my hotdog!”  Kenny shared, perhaps a little too loud.

“Daddy?” he persisted, “Do you know how to do that too?”

And while I enjoy the finer things that Costco has to offer, I am thankful that I am at least aware that conversations such as ours are better left to the eating areas of Walmart.  Because, you can take the White Trash out of Walmart but you can't take the Thompsons out anywhere.