Kathleen McCall:
Occasional�� Muse�

2002-04-05 - 6:42 p.m.

The Beginning of the End

My feet hurt and I'm way cranky. From shopping.

I would have thought, a year ago, that I could never get tired of shopping. I can only remember being tired of shopping once in my whole life, and that was when I was dragged through an entire mall, store by exhausting store, by a very pregnant friend in the throes of Nesting Frenzy. Rugs and curtains and sheets and ruffles and valances and towels and she went into labor that night. So there was that time, yeah, but that was it.

And then today. My comeuppance begins. All I wanted was to buy Older Daughter a second pair of jeans. She had always steadfastly refused to wear them. But at some point we ended up getting her a pair, and she discovered their virtues, and now that's ALL she'll wear. Takes 'em off at night and throws them in the hamper and demands the next morning, "Where are my jeans? Didn't you WASH them?"

So I thought I'd save some of my sanity by buying her at least one more pair. Problem being, I don't actually know what we bought, and this child whacks all the labels out of any article of clothing immediately, so I have no way to know what size they were. And given the build of this child - this is the stork-child - it is NOT easy to fit her in anything.

Take one stork body, toss in a little teenage taste and a generous helping of teenage attitude, and you got yourself some sore feet.

I stood outside the dressing rooms (this would be the teenage attitude thing - at eleven, she is too old for me to accompany her into the dressing room.) I puttered around nearby Nightwear (did you know that April is Nightwear month? I didn't.) I contemplated pajama pants (my life needs more pajama pants) and boxer shorts (but they didn't have the celestial ones or the tropical fish ones in my size) and brassieres (she needs a few more of those but she's cut the labels out of those, too, so I am not sure of the size and I don't want to add any complexity to today's mix) and bikini panties with rainbows (which I don't need and she won't wear) and nurse's uniforms (because I was getting desperate by this point.) Every so often, child would pop out in another pair of jeans to demonstrate how the waist pinched or gapped or the crotch was near her knees, and I got so bored I forgot to be glad that I have a child who does not WANT to wear the crotch of her pants down near her knees.

I even got bored of thinking about all the hours I pushed her around in a cart in Ross Dress For Less, mindlessly roaming the racks, doing anything to escape being home by myself with the baby for another hour. This is only the beginning of the comeuppance, I know.

We left with no jeans, capris, or denim shorts at all. We left with some friendship bracelets that will be a gift to a playmate who returns to her home in another country tomorrow, and one SpongeBob t-shirt, foolishly picked out first to make up to Younger Daughter for the jeans that Older Daughter was supposed to be getting. Which makes me one-down on the Older Daughter score-sheet, since I couldn't very well say, "Since we didn't find jeans, you have to go put the precious t-shirt you've been clutching back."

Notes to self: Do not select even-up item for other child until Primary Shopping Target has been achieved. Feed older child more fatty foods. And finally, before next shopping foray, buy nurse's SHOES.

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