§ Music

Tuesday, March 05, 2002

Another Shopping Adventure

Monday, after I picked up Devon from school, I dragged the kids to Wal-Mart with me.  There were a few things I needed, a couple of things I wanted to look at and mostly, I just had the desire to get out of the house.  Well, as most of our shopping expeditions go, this was no great thrill for the kids.  Sebastian whined, Devon complained and Jenica slept in her car seat.  When we got there, I promised all of them a soda from McDonald’s.  Bribery is never the answer.  Except when you can’t think of anything else.  Heh. 

Ok, so um, they get their sodas and are relatively well behaved.  We did get to have a rather extensive conversation in which Sebastian insisted that the reason daddy smoked at work was to attract bad guys.  The kids know that Daddy smokes and they vehemently disagree with his choice.  Devon has gone as far as to throw Dad’s lighter over the fence into the neighbor’s yard.  Sebastian tells Dad on a daily basis that smoking will kill him.  Rather than just quit like a good daddy (*grin*) he insists on explaining that he only smokes at work and not at home.  (Lie.)  Granted, he’s not allowed to smoke in my house and NEVER EVER EVER in my minivan, but I have caught him at the side of the house on a number of occasions, or in his car.  Ew.  Ahem.  Anyhow, Sebastian explained that Daddy has to smoke at work because that way the bad guys will come to smoke with him and then Daddy can shoot them.  Er.  I wonder if the Highway Patrol agrees with such tactics?  Hm.

After we were done sipping our sodas, I decided that just in case the halos on my angels started to slip, I should grab the stuff I needed first so we could make a hasty retreat when the time came.  They were being so good, I figured I could squeeze in a little time checking out some of the “want” items.  Fun.

Eventually, I came across a pair of jeans that are too cute for words.  The problem was that there were two sizes.  8 and 14.  Uh?  What I really needed (I think?) was a 10 (ok 12) but I didn’t have much choice.  I figured I’d at least try the two on and see if either would work, even.  So away to the dressing room we head.  Thankfully, the wheelchair accessible room was free.  I hate using that dressing room if it’s not necessary because I wouldn’t want someone who truly needs it to have to wait, but in this case, I truly was a “special needs” mommy.  I especially needed to watch all three of my kids and there was no way we were all three going to squeeze into one of the small rooms.

The whole time Devon is insisting, “We’re going to get in trouble for being in this room.“  “No we’re not,“ I explained.  “The lady said we could come back here so I could keep an eye on you three.“  “But, Mommy, this room is only for people in wheelchairs!“  Keep in mind, everyone within thirty feet of the dressing room area can hear the child.  “We’re fine,“ I snap irritably while trying to squeeze my fat ass into jeans that were obviously not meant for someone who partakes in excessive amounts of fried foods and whose only daily workout is typing 75WPM while chatting with someone halfway across the world.

“Which size are those?“ Bastian asks innocently.  In a loud voice, Devon replies, “Eight!  Hey.  I’m almost eight.  Maybe those are my size, Mommy.  They don’t look like they’ll fit you.“  I refrain from commenting and squeeze and twist just a little more.  Aaah… the zipper is… almost… “Maybe you should try these, Mommy. The ones with the 14,“ Devon says even more loudly than before.  Meanwhile, Jenica has found the mirror and is delighting in licking her hands and smearing them over the entire lower half of the mirror.  “I don’t need the 14’s, Devon.  The 8’s are fine.“  Aaaaah, yes!  The zipper was finally up.  And other than the lovely tummy pooch hanging over the top they fit perfectly!  Well.  Ahem.  Ok.  Maybe not.  I mean, just because I had to pant to stay conscious…

Resigned to the fact that the 8’s wouldn’t work, I peeled them off.  Now Bastian is licking his hands and smearing them on the mirror.  “Sebastian Dante!“ I chide.  “That’s inappropriate behavior.“  “What’s inappropriate, Mommy?“ Sebastian asks sweetly.  “Smearing your hands on the mirror,“ I say flatly.  “NO! I mean… what does inappropriate mean?“  Shit.  Inappropriate is shouting out your mother’s pants size to half of Wal-Mart.  But ok, I can’t say that.  So I go into the “Inappropriate means something that is not nice or not polite to do…“ speech.  Sebastian promptly ignores me.  Jenica giggles and slimes the mirror some more.  Devon hands me the 14’s and says ruefully, “Maybe you should get a size 28.  You should wear the same size as your age.“  No, I tell myself, Don’t snap at him.  He doesn’t know any better.  He’s just trying to be helpful.  Out loud, “Thanks, Devon.  I’ll consider it if these don’t fit.“  Or I’ll consider home liposuction with my freaking Hoover, dammit.

The 14’s were great.  Loose but not so much they’d fall off me if I wriggled wrong, and yeah, I look chunky, but there aren’t a pair of jeans in existence that are going to change that.  They were comfortable and, well, cute, which isn’t something I find in most clothes.  Devon was quite pleased with himself and loudly exclaimed, “14 is just right for you, Mommy!“  True, but that’s not what I wanted to hear.  Sebastian took up the chant, “14! !4! 14!“  Great. Let’s just turn on the loudspeaker so the whole store can hear. 

Just as I’m dropping the pants to the floor, I realize that Jenica has wriggled 2/3 of the way under the door of the dressing room.  Now here was my dilemma.  Should I run out there in my undies to grab her?  Do I send one of the boys, potentially losing two children instead of just one?  OR.. do I bid her farewell and tell her to write when she finds work?  Yes, of course I went chasing after my one-year-old escape artist in my undies.  Hell, the whole store already knew what size I wear, they might as well see what color my undies are, too.  (Green, in case you were wondering.)  Jenica was none too pleased to be retrieved into the captivity of the small dressing room, but I managed to keep her caged and the boys entertained long enough for me to get dressed.

At this point, embarrassment was long dissolved from my range of emotions, so I figure I might as well take a moment to peruse the bras.  It really has gotten to the point where I can’t go without any longer.  The nursing bras are entirely too funky and too big and my old bras too worn (or lost.)  While I’m searching, Devon complains, “This is so boring.“  “Someday,“ I say, “You may actually like shopping for sexy lacy underwear.“  “No I won’t.  I’ll just tolerate it, like Daddy does.“  Ok, that has me stopped in my tracks staring at him.  “What do you mean, Devon?  Daddy likes looking at sexy undies.  He even tells me how nice I look in them.“  “No,“ Devon persists, “He just pretends.“  And then Devon did something so utterly shockingly funny that I giggle just remembering it.  He imitates his father exactly… so exactly that I feel stupid for being so blind.

In a very exasperated and bland voice Devon says, “Yes, Baby Girl.  It’s fine.  I like it just fine.  Get it.“  And then Devon rolls his eyes and grins.  Oh, my GOD.  He’s right.  That’s exactly how my beloved husband reacts.  From the mouths of babes. That sets me to buying something practical and comfortable rather than sexy and lacy.  Talk about taking the wind out of my sails.  No big deal, anyhow.  Wal-Mart isn’t exactly known for quality lingerie, so it was for the best.  If ever I decide The Twins need to be treated, I’ll head to Victoria’s Secret or something.

In all, it wasn’t a bad trip.  It was fun and if nothing else I was forced into acceptance of my not-size-six-anymore body.  Still, how I long for the days where I could shop in peace and quiet and enjoy moments of pensive thought and tranquility.  Someday I suppose I’ll have all that again and miss the hustle and bustle of children.

Page 882 of 933 pages
« First  <  880 881 882 883 884 >  Last »

In Previous Years:

2007

Liberty Needs

I’ve done the “(your name) is” thing on Google (or whatever search engine it was) before, but not the “(your name) needs”.  At least, not… [Read More]

2004

Expression Engine

Many thanks to “Andrea”:http://etherealreflections.com/reflecting.php for my birthday/Christmas present.  She got me a copy of “EE”:http://pmachine.com which I have been playing with for the last several… [Read More]

2001

Thanksgiving Program

The Cast:

Ed & Carmen – Slum Lords From Hell

SimHubby – Since RealHubby is working, I’ve downloaded SimHubby from my Sims… [Read More]