Pick your poison, Sam’s, BJ’s, or Costco, they are all the same. They sucker you in with milk at $2.99/gallon and the next thing you know you’ve bought so much stuff that you have to strap your kid to the roof just to fit everything in the car.

For my family, it has been a slow slip into the world of warehouse stores. We didn’t even join until our first child was born. Even then it was out of “necessity.” I honestly don’t think I would have survived this long as a parent if I couldn’t purchase diapers by the gross. We paid our $35 and never looked back. But, membership comes at a price.

The last time I was in our local store, I remembered I needed a little toilet paper. But they don’t sell just a few rolls, so I went on to purchase 48 “super” size rolls of Charmin. Good news, if I need to use the facilities. Bad news, if I want to put anything else in the closets for the next six months. I now have toilet paper stashed all over the house, I think I even stored some at the neighbors’.

My purchases may be large and out of control, but at least they are for household staples. My husband, though technically a member, is banned from the store. I am afraid he is going to come home with two gallons of milk, a pack of diapers, and a dozen plasma TVs. You go in for a gallon of milk (conveniently located in the very back corner of this monstrous store) and you can pick up just about anything else along the way. Want a 3-carat diamond ring? Grab one. Want a $200 pair of Seven Jeans? Grab one. Want a dune buggy? Grab one. Somehow you go in planning to spend $3 on milk and you come out with a carload of junk and $300 Visa bill.

Folks used to sell your soul to the company store, but it turns out I sold mine to the warehouse store. And when they ask me in February if I want to renew my membership, you better believe I’ll hold out that Visa card, say yes. Then, I’ll load of the car, strap the kids to the roof, and drive home with a smile on my face.