Dear Costco,

Against all third trimester wisdom, the kids and I paid you a visit this morning. It seemed like a trip I couldn’t avoid. There’s a birthday party weekend coming up, and our house has been awfully empty of many staples for the past few weeks. Perhaps I didn’t calculate these two realities together–party needs and household needs in one fell swoop. If I had, I might have realized a little sooner that their sum was likely too great for this mama to handle.

My cart runneth over.

I stuck largely to my list, and in spite of this, there was room for nary a cucumber by the time I dragged our haul to the checkout lane. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so grateful for the means to pack a cart full within your walls, to feed my people and to throw a party. It’s just too easy to forget that nearly every package in your aisles weighs a hefty amount, and I didn’t calculate the overreaching workout for what it might be today–not even close.

Then, of course, you had deals on jeans and staple kids’ items that were better than anywhere else, and I have to admit, I caved in that department. Saving money in the long run is a hallmark quality of so many of your products, but I can’t say I loved the final number at the checkout. It is always alarming, no matter how much I gear up for the final bill before I flash my card.

It’s just that you’re so shiny, Costco.

You, with all of your organic items and your sample food carts and your seasonal deals. You’re too much sometimes, really. To know you is to love you and to develop a healthy fear of you as well.

There’s a line from one of my all time favorite movies that comes to mind whenever I enter your coveted gates: “And we are the Price Club. Only instead of a ten-gallon vat of olive oil for $3.99 that won’t even fit in your cabinet, we sell cheap books.” (You’ve Got Mail)

Oh, but you sell both, Costco, and you do it so well. Your products are something great, and your siren song keeps calling to us as mothers of growing children, who, in their youth, have quite quickly become loyal to your brand and your every item as well.

Today, I was thankful for your current furniture display and the wisdom of our five year old who, right before reaching the checkout lane, suggested maybe we “just sit for a few minutes and take a rest.” Never has he appeared more brilliant or astute than in that moment, when I just parked our four hundred pound cart to the side and sunk back into the pillows for a short break before “the moving of all of the things” part two occurred. Thank you for your hospitality, my friend. I hope you don’t mind.

When I left your store this afternoon, taking with me the contents of not one, but two carts on our way out the door (a new personal record, to be sure), I was admittedly overwhelmed. Costco staff and cart handlers came to this pregnant mama’s rescue, pushing one cart to the exit and helping me to unload the contents of both carts into the car for the drive home. If only I could have borrowed the extra help for the unfortunate unloading that took place once we arrived back in our driveway a little later on…

At the end of the day, I am still grateful to you for your product line-up, and for offerings that, in the long run, do save us money and keep our pantry stocked. My overwhelm today was not your fault in the least bit–just evidence of the state I’m in and proof that mamas with 2.8 babes in tow should not party plan and attempt to stock their household in the same trip. You’ve outdone yourself again, you ginormous warehouse full of shiny objects, you.

I’ll be back again in September.

counting my trip as a workout (or four;),

mm