Shopping for School Supplies and Guerilla Warfare - I see no difference

I never had children of my own. In fact, I did not plan on ever being a parent. Nevertheless, life has a funny way of tricking you into these things. No, I did not become accidentally pregnant, I got married.

Let me give you some background. When I became a step-mom, I inherited a 16 year old boy. He was already way into the brain damaged state. I cannot tell you how many times that child has called me from school to bring his head to him.

"Cheryl, I left my head on the pillow. Do you mind bringing it to me?" he would say in his sweetest voice when he called from the principals office. Being the dutiful wife and step-mother, I would load his head in the car and deliver it to school. The principal's assistant was always very cheerful and met me in the driveway. I did not realize until later that she spent the greater part of her morning collecting children's heads.

Then the fateful day came. My new husband phoned to ask me if I would take my step-son shopping for school supplies. Being an ignorant person about this activity, I gladly accepted. What a great way to bond with my new son than to spend an hour shopping! Or so I thought.

I was so excited. Nick brought home his list of supplies which looked completely innocent to me. At this time I did not realize that 1.2 million children in the local school system were instructed to buy a chartreuse colored binder with the rings spaced 1.21 millimeters apart. I also did not realize there was only one manufacturer based in Fiji that produced only 500 per year.

At first glance, the store looked calm and quiet. I was lulled into a false sense of security, grabbed a basket and took off down the aisle. All of that changed when we rounded aisle 14. Books, legal pads, and ink pens were flying everywhere. I was nearly blinded by a gluestick! Three women were tearing each other's hair out over a package of paper (the only one left). In order not to look chicken in front of my son, I threw myself into the fray.

When I was able to receive visitors in the intensive care unit, my husband and son apologized profusely for sending me into the warzone. They sincerely believed I had spent time on the front-lines before. It took me a while to forgive them and I'm still not sure I didn't suffer permanent nerve damage from being thrown backwards over a shopping cart.

The next year, I got smart. When Nick brought home his list, I promptly called his Dad and announced "no worries, I've got it covered." Even though he protested, I stuck to my guns. I had a plan! That list went with me straight to the office and was promptly deposited into the able hands of my assistant who ordered everything on-line. The cost was $4,000 but still cheaper than 3 days in the hospital and the anti-anxiety drugs.