Without proper planning, shopping at Costco with kids in tow can bring a parent to his or her knees. Costco and other big-box retailers can be your friend with quality items in bulk at good prices, but without proper information, it can also be your checking account’s worst enemy.

Hopefully, these six things I’ve learned over the years of committing many mistakes will be of some help.

A shopping list for Costco is a must

When I go with my kids to a regular grocery store, they sometimes will talk me into getting them a treat, like a box of Pop Tarts. On these occasions, the kids are happy: they get a junk food breakfast the next day, I get well-behaved children for the rest of the shopping trip. Total cost: $3 or so. Well worth it, in my book. But shopping at Costco with kids — oh, boy. Can those things can add up quickly. If your children talk you into Pop Tarts here, not only are you out about $45, you’re also stuck with 192 Pop Tarts. And, if your kids are like mine, they won’t eat half of the flavors. My fear is that on some Costco run, in a moment of weakness, my kids will talk me into purchasing something random like a king-size waterbed.

Know the samples schedule

It is important to know the tasting samples usually aren’t set up until the store has been open for an hour. Use this knowledge to your advantage. If you want to make a “quick” Costco run with the little ones, go right when they open. If you want to feed your kids lunch with no mess, no fuss and no cost, go right at 11 a.m. before the other moochers get there.

Reward your kids at the end …

Speaking of food, if you are planning to bribe your kids with treats to eat for good behavior, make sure you offer them the stuff for sale in the food court area after you check out. It is unbelievably cheap. The other day I told my kids I would buy them pizza for lunch if they behaved. Three slices of pizza (each slice larger than the plate it came on) cost me a grand total of $6. Better and cheaper than 192 Pop Tarts.

… or the beginning

The food court will sell you a smoothie or cup of ice cream and divide it up into however many kids you have, so for my family, our three kids each get their own cup of ice cream to eat as we walk around the store, for $1.50. Total.

Get a cart every time

Even if you’re just making a quick trip in for, say, a bottle of vitamins, get a cart. There’s a decent chance that in addition to your vitamins, you’ll impulse buy a $500 stand-up paddleboard or some other strange item you didn’t know you needed until that very moment.

Know which day of the week is best

Avoid shopping at Costco with kids on weekends. The place is an absolute zoo. This includes Fridays as well. Don’t go on Thursdays either because that’s the day everyone trying to beat the weekend crowd goes. Mondays are just as bad because that’s when shoppers are buying groceries for the week. Come to think of it, Tuesdays and Wednesdays are both pretty busy days as well. The truth is, I’ve yet to find a day of the week where Costco isn’t a complete madhouse.

Hopefully, these tips help make your next time shopping Costco with kids at least moderately bearable. Now I’m off to go fill up my king-size waterbed.

A version of this first appeared on Indy’s Child. Shopping at Costco with kids photo: © Voy_ager / Adobe Stock

As an at-home-dad for more than a decade, I pride myself on the ability to read and understand ancient languages. I am the Rosetta Stone of baby talk. Toddler got a problem but has the vocabulary lower than the dog? I’m your guy. A teenager that has invented a new system of language based on memes and TikTok? I can write the dictionary and teach it at the next convention.

But the Post-it Notes my wife leaves around the house? Well, not all codes were meant to be broken.

The Post-it Notes are based on a language I can only assume take its inspiration from fairy dust and abstract art. I run across these colorful cryptic message many times throughout the day. Sometimes I can make progress, such as “Surely, that is a word that starts with an X!” Then I realize that it’s not an X, but a sign invented for deaf musical geniuses … and how can I not understand that?

Let’s take the above Post-it Note as a typical example. I found out many years later that this was meant to be a grocery list and not a communication from a new alien civilization asking me for help. Using my highly developed reading and writing skills, I determined that the first word on the note is “juice.” We are off to a good start.

The second word, now that is a P followed by butterfly wings. I consulted my Egyptian Hieroglyphics urban dictionary. I concluded that I was supposed to let the pee fly at the grocery store. Then I realized that if I squinted, it’s could be a B. Which would be PB, shorthand for “peanut butter and jelly,” two separate items that aren’t one product. I deduced that my wife wanted a sandwich and then she would pee in an airplane. This is going smoothly, no?

After I got the P and B, she wants “banditos.” An interesting request as I would have to travel all the way back to 1865 Mexico, but I could probably do that. I’ll get the alien civilization to help.

After that, “lunch meet” is up, which again, a bit weird. But I love meeting lunch, so I’ll do that after the banditos. We’ll catch up on the kids and family.

So far, I find that this is going well and much easier than one would expect given my wife’s inability to write on Post-it Notes in any way that a normal person could understand. Once she left me a note to “Make sure you flap the flog” which is not the sexual reference/kink talk I was expecting. Instead, it meant fix the toilet. She’s also terrible at sexting.

After lunch meet is where I get stuck. We need “dimes by Sunday.” Clear as day, that is what the Post-it Note says. I don’t know what is going on during Sunday, but apparently, this is very important to get at the grocery store.

Or — hold-up — what if I’m reading it wrong?

It might say “Dinos on Sunday.”  That’s a bit of an emergency because I’m not planning on making enough tacos Sunday night to feed a group of prehistoric creatures.  Maybe that’s why we need the dimes? That makes sense.

Then the list tells me to get the “Ranch at the Coffee,” but I think that is a harmless typo. What she means is to go to the ranch and get coffee. Like, the cowboy kind that’s served as dark as night and with a little trail dust on the rim. Everyone takes it differently and whatever she needs to make it through the day, I’m here for her. And I’ll be sure to pick up the “reamer” that is next on her list. I can only assume this is cowboy lingo for sugar.

I’m pretty sure that the next item on this Shakespearean manuscript is “mouse traps,” but I’m making the allowance that it could also be “moose traps.” You can never be too careful with moose as they eat all your cheese, the greedy bastards.

I’m having a problem with the next two. It’s either “Twit Fly stuff” or “Twit Fly Traps Stuff.? Writing in straight lines is sometimes a challenge for her.  And I’m not sure what a “Swahes” is either. Using my brain powers again I can make two conclusions.

Option 1: Twits are a type of space pirate flying around our galaxy, and we need to trap them before they swish their hips in an inappropriate manner. I believe Elvis was a Twit Pirate when he was starting out.

Option 2: I have a hell of an infestation in my house with the mouse, the moose, the twits, and the fruit flies, and if I’m not careful, they too will soon read my wife’s Post-it Notes and then wonder why they get yelled at when they return from the store with only Flying Pee and Dimes.

Photo: © OliverFoerstner / Adobe Stock.

Disclosure: NYC Dads Group has been compensated by Peapod by Stop & Shop for this post. All opinions are genuine. Read all the way to the bottom for a special sweepstakes offer from Peapod and the New York Yankees.

Have you ever missed a great moment at a sporting event because you were in line waiting for food? This happened to me last month during a charity softball game at Yankee Stadium.

My kids were captivated by the game and asked me to get them some dinner from the concession stand. They were having such a great time that I couldn’t say no. I ended up waiting nearly an hour for food at the one open stand and missed a few innings of the game. I should’ve fed them at home before we left.

I vowed to be smarter in the future. Going forward, we would “pregame” our dinner at home.

Saving time and energy

We were fortunate to partner with Peapod by Stop & Shop because they have proved to be my pregame solution. I wanted a service that would allow us to enjoy our precious time as much as possible and since they delivered, we were excited to try it out.

The online buying process was swift and easy. Our kids chose some fun items along with the necessities we needed the most to fill our virtual cart. An impressive feature of Peapod is that we could suggest an item or even a completed dish and its Express Shop option would suggest everything needed to complete the order.

Basics like ketchup, napkins and plastic cups for barbecues are the grocery items we tend to forget, but not anymore. The buying process was extremely simple as was the delivery. They offer an option of getting real-time updates directly to your mobile phone via text and because it involved technology, I had to use that feature.

We selected a next-day delivery time that worked for our family. We received a few text messages with the progress of the delivery, keeping us updated until all of our groceries were fully delivered.

Pregaming saves money

We call my kids “beasts” because they have voracious appetites. When we go to the ballpark that constant eating creates a huge hole in my wallet. The worst part is that my children don’t believe in sharing. They all need their own trays of food or all hell breaks loose.

Anybody that goes to a major league sporting event knows that some of the food is awesome … and all of it is expensive. When you have a family of five, you can easily spend more than hundred dollars in food at the game.

That’s the real advantage of pregaming. Since we order our own food, our kids can pick different things without us having to break the bank. Instead of paying $12 for one hot dog, we can buy a pack of eight for $4 and feed the whole family. That same $100 you spend at the game can feed your family and a bunch of friends before the game.

By pregaming and using a service like Peapod by Stop & Shop you can you can instead use that money on that cool limited edition Yankee jersey you always wanted.

Being fully present

Pregaming allows you to fully enjoy the game without risking the chance of missing out on something like I did.

That day I wasted an hour standing on a line for food (that didn’t taste as good as our own, by the way) could have been used way more efficiently. We were there for a charity game so I wish we could have spoken with my kids more about paying it forward. Instead my son had to fill me on the game.

Even though he was excited about it, I really let my chance to drill down on doing good for others. I also missed out on supporting a few of my favorite celebrities as they swung the bat for a good cause.

I missed the chance to be fully present at the game and it still bothers me today. This won’t ever happen again, from here on out I will be pregaming with the family for almost any sporting event we decide to go to.

Peapod by Stop & Shop made pregaming easy with its great features, ease of use and saved us a ton of time allowing us to enjoy the full experience of a game with no distractions.

Now if only I could get my kids to pay the bill! Need that feature ASAP!

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Ten years ago this summer, we moved to the suburbs. We left the city for the typical reasons. My wife and I decided we needed more space. We thought the boys should have a backyard. And we had no intention of drinking past 10.

In many ways, we’ve adapted very nicely to the suburbs. The boys play in the backyard. My wife loves planting and killing flowers. I’m happy to have a driveway.

Yes, despite my casual complaints and periodic yearnings for the city, I think moving to the suburbs has worked out for my family and me. I’d even say we’ve adapted nicely. We appreciate the hum of crickets, bunnies running around freely, and the thrill of the UPS delivery.

However, there are some ways in which my family – well, me in particular – has not adjusted to the suburbs. So on that, here are six reasons why I still don’t belong in the suburbs.

1. I don’t own a grill

Not an in-ground, electric, or even a hibachi. You ever walk around the suburbs around 5 p.m. on a weekend in the summer? I guarantee you smell someone grilling faster than can say “white picket fence.” However, you won’t be sniffing or rubbing your eyes from the smoke by my house. No barbecue here and no interest. Shoot, we don’t even have a deck to put it on.

2. I’m uncomfortable buying in bulk

Advertisements such as “48 rolls of toilet paper for $14.99” send people scurrying. Customers bring multiple shopping carts and are disappointed when they see the limit is three packages. Seriously, why the hell does anybody need that much freakin’ toilet paper? You know, just because you have the storage space doesn’t mean you have to fill it. Nah, I’ll stick to the 4 pack. Or maybe go crazy and buy the 8-pack.

3. Our house doesn’t have an addition

Nor do we plan on adding one.  Yes, thankfully, we have equity in our house. Yes, I know rates are still low, traditionally speaking. Sure, I wouldn’t mind a bigger house, but instead of competing against the neighbors to see who has the biggest house, I’m simply going to live in mine.

4. We don’t own a minivan or an SUV

We have a Honda Accord. That’s it (I know one car – roughing it). While picking up the boys at camp or attending a school event, it’s hard not to look around, notice, and then wonder, “Does size matter?” Does everyone really need a huge car to schlep around their 2.1 kids? There’s only one time a year I want a bigger car and that’s when we drive toward our rented vacation home for one week. The boys are squished and even have had to carry suitcases on their laps. I feel bad then about the size of the car. But it passes and therefore, I’ll pass on the minivan.

5. I don’t go to the mall

It’s not a rule or anything but I have no interest in going to a mall. We have a huge mall near us – hey, we live in Jersey – with many top stores. One could buy everything they need – clothes, furniture, electronics, kitchenware, linens. And then there are the three wings – under one massive roof. Nah. Not for me. In fact, if the movie theater wasn’t in the mall, I don’t think I’d ever go there. Well, one day, 30 years from now, maybe my wife and I will walk around the mall as a form of exercise. For now, the mall holds no interest for me.

6. I mow my own lawn – standing up

While I do hate mowing my medium-sized lawn, I can’t imagine how doing so while sitting down on a tractor would make it more pleasant. Now, if they put a television on the tractor, I might reconsider.  Sorry, Mr. Gardener – I could use the exercise and soon the boys will take over.

So, does this make my family and I outsiders? Hmm, maybe we could drive to a destination a couple of blocks away and turn our noses up when someone suggests we actually walk. Walk? Nah, who walks? We’re suburbanites.

A version of this first appeared on Me, Myself and My Kids.

Some genius has created a tumblr site to document every New York City store that has been replaced by a frozen yogurt place. Delis and restaurants, bars and bodegas, bookstores and clothing stores, spas and pet shops – all have froyo shops where they once stood.

And I’m in the same boat.

I used to have friends. Now I have froyo shops in every direction.

Over the past few years, three of the families in our neighborhood, the ones to which we were closest, have left the city. These were the people we could count on for a last-minute meet up in the park or playground or for an indoor play date in the winter. Mothers were pregnant together. Our children were born close in time. Our children grew up together and attended preschool together. In short, these people were family and were the ones who made life here in this dense metropolis less lonely.

Is this sort of loss part of what it means to be a die-hard, “never ever leaving the city” type of New Yorker? Is the hole left by the loss of good people really replaced by more frozen yogurt — sorry, froyo –options?

One family we lost was our next-door neighbors in our old building. We shared sugar, salt, milk, bread and eggs. We offered to pick up grocery items for each other. We took care of each other’s cats. We watched each other’s children. Our baby monitors worked in each other’s apartments and so we watched Netflix together after children fell asleep. Sometimes we just watched our little ones run back and forth in our hallway.

One family is old friends, friends my wife and I have had since college. We were at each other’s weddings. We went out for dinner to announce pregnancies and life plans and careers and joys and struggles. We celebrated Jewish holidays together and were honored guests at brises and britot bat alike. Our children grew together from infancy. It was a comfort to know they were within blocks of us even as we sometimes each scurried about the city doing our own things.

One family were new friends who we were connected to through a local mom’s group. They, too, have become like family and perhaps this is in great part to the fact that my 4-year-old daughter and their four-year-old son attended preschool together and bicker like an old married couple (they have known each other since they were four and ten months old, respectively).

Each of these families, for their own unique reasons, chose to move from the city (one of them only temporarily, I hope). For the most part, this is not a new tale. It is understandable to want to avoid the crushing rents in the city and to opt for ownership of a much larger space for the same money. This is true even if I would never choose this for myself. And, as I’ve recently discovered, it is also rational to avoid the public school system which needs a tremendous amount of work.

As my childhood friend from Brooklyn – Harry Siegel at the Daily News – reminds us, “the nature of the city is such that someone is always elbowing out someone else, and eventually getting elbowed themselves.” But, for those of us that remain to watch others get elbowed out or who chose to remove themselves before any elbowing occurs, it can be painful. I agree with Siegel that it is far more valuable to “invest our lives where we live” rather than opting out of “our shared civic life — our common schools, streets and politics.” But, I also understand that each family must chart its own course.

We recently moved and we rarely walk by our old building with my daughters. We have felt a certain amount of trepidation about whether seeing the old place would cause them discomfort or confusion. Similarly, when we walk by the buildings where these families once lived, it is not unlike the sadness that overcomes New Yorkers when they see a restaurant or bookstore that was once a staple of the neighborhood gone forever. At least with friends, I can tell my children that they are only a train or car ride away.

“Who used to live there?” my daughter might ask as we pass one of these buildings. “Our friends” I will answer. “Now, do you want chocolate or vanilla froyo?”

Photo: © very_ulissa /  Adobe Stock.

We took a road trip last weekend and, at 14 months, my youngest is pretty obviously outgrown her baby car seat. It was time to upgrade to the toddler car throne, and it had to happen quickly. Which meant I was going to brave Buy Buy Baby on the weekend.

Now that both girls are walking, we’ve had a lot of success with “man-to-man defense” parenting. So I grabbed the oldest, Red, to join me on my quest while my wife hung back with the baby. I already knew exactly what I wanted — this year’s version of Red’s Britax Advocate — and where it was located in the store. I thought I could get through the place with surgical precision — in and out in 20 minutes.

As I’ve said before, the Buy Buy Baby is essentially Thunderdome on the weekend, especially the one in Chelsea. When we got there, the first floor was loaded with expecting parents mindlessly zapping registry items, accompanied by a B3 rep in a blue shirt. I was on a mission, but the banter between the Blueshirts and their doe-eyed marks was inescapable. Did you ever overhear a conversation that was so insipid, weird, or just completely wrong that you can’t not listen to it? And then you worry you’ve just gotten more stupid having heard it? It was like that. Some of the gems:

• “If you even think you’re gonna breastfeed, you should pick up two pumps. You don’t want to lug these back and forth.” This was over by the Medela pumps that retail for $240.
• “This is great, ’cause it just stores IN the microwave!” a rep said about one of those big racks that you put in the microwave to sterilize bottle parts. Yeah, hope you don’t need to use your microwave to, y’know, heat up food… while you’re figuring out your newborn. And would it have killed the Blueshirt to ask if these people had a dishwasher? Those usually have ‘sterilize’ settings.
• “I would just get one of each and see which one works out. You can always bring the rest back.” This was was said in front of a wall of pacifiers that had at least 100 options. Conservatively.

I pressed on, avoided eye contact throughout the entire first level, and got down into the bowels of Buy Buy Baby without incident. This is where the big stuff is, and on the weekends feels like a trade show/bazaar/kumite. I walked past the strollers just as a demo of some Bugaboo models was breaking up. The Blueshirt giving the demo said, with a level of seriousness that should be reserved for TSA agents and funeral home directors, “I can’t recommend an UppaBaby. They’re just so heavy. In the city, you’ll really wish you had gone for a Bugaboo.”

One couple in the audience hung back from the pack as they moved on to the next demo. Nodding toward Red at my hip, the guy asked me, “You’ve done this before. What do you think about the UppaBaby stroller?”

I told him about how much I liked the UppaBaby Vista, and the weight thing didn’t seem to me like a huge deal. After all, you’re not running a marathon with it over your head, right? They seemed relieved. It felt like that part in the Shawshank Redemption, where the Tim Robbins character goes to Morgan Freeman with, “I understand you’re a man who knows how to get things …”

Closer to the car seats, I made eye contact with a soon-to-be brother-in-arms, a first-time expecting dad. This poor guy was wearing an Ergo Carrier on the back, a Baby Bjorn on the front with a demo doll in it, and a look of utter despair. Most of the clips were mismatched and nothing was adjusted for size. You could’ve easily mistaken him for an overwhelmed news correspondent in some war-torn country. I offered, “I’ve tried all those at one point or another. What do you need it for?” Like most guys, he wanted a carrier that could go front or back. Wearing a kid any heavier than 20 pounds on the front is murder on your back, so I’ve been really happy with the Ergo. The dude’s wife came back just as I was pointing out that you can pretty easily take apart and machine wash an Ergo, to get puke/poop/hardened applesauce out of it. I think things like the cleanup factor are easy to overlook for new parents, so was happy to offer that little glimpse into actual parenthood.

Once I got over to car seats, Britax had their own brand rep in-store that was kind enough to grab a cart for me, and I was at the register from there. I didn’t really need any help with my purchase decision, but I’ve found these brand-specific folks extremely helpful before. I wonder why more companies don’t make a regular practice of it. They’re not on commission and have a really thorough understanding of their specific product lines.

The whole thing took about 30 minutes in-store, and it was nice to be able to throw a few new parents some friendly advice. I would urge veteran parents to offer to come along for that first Buy Buy Baby visit with their expecting friends. I know my wife and I could’ve really used it our first time there.

About the author

Rich Gallagher is an NYC-based PR guy with experience in sports, video games, tech and beverage alcohol brands. A version of this first appeared on his blog, We’re Gonna Need More Bathrooms.