I’d begun to believe that I’d always hated shopping, but I’m not sure that is the case. I’ve never been an aficionado, that’s for sure. I’ve always considered “shopping as entertainment” a bit weird--sad really. My shopping trip yesterday gave rise to two new possibilities for me:
1) Hating shopping may just be a relatively recent thing in my life.
2) As much as I despise shopping, it can still be rather entertaining—in a sad sort of way.
Let me recount yesterday’s trip. I need summer clothes. This is something I’ve been putting off and attempting to do online (I do not like to pay shipping in order to try something on and have to ship it back). So, my new van needed a license plate (DMV—another blog) and I figured as long as I was driving an hour into town, I would hit the mall.
I dislike malls perhaps more than I dislike shopping. I lived in Colorado an entire year before I ever felt the need to go to the mall—to get my children photographed (I returned a mere two weeks later to return the tie my son stole, but that is another blog entirely). But, 80% humidity will drive any mall-hater to the mall in search of shorts.
Before I got to the mall, I decided to stop at a discount clothing store, in hopes of avoiding the mall altogether. Now mind you, my children at this point have been harnessed into the car for over an hour, most of which is narrow switchbacks down the mountain from camp (another reason I avoid shopping). So, getting Elliot out of his carseat and strapped into a stroller is hopeless. So, I let him walk. Bad idea.
I grabbed a couple of things to try on. My attendants and I ventured into the fitting room. The one large enough to accommodate my stroller did not lock. I went in anyway. As soon as my pants were down, Elliot swings the door open wide and run out. I pull my pants up and grab him. I park the stroller in front of the door and try again. I have a pair of shorts half way on and Elliot has crawled under the stroller and door. I grab him again and strap him in the stroller. He begins to scream. I try on one more pair. He is still screaming as he begins to throw his body violently against the strap holding him in and nearly topples the stroller.
I grab the items, throw on my clothing and head out of the fitting room. After some more struggles while trying to check-out, we leave.
By now it is lunchtime and we stop at a restaurant. They tell me they can’t put the high chair up to a booth, but Ethan REALLY wants to sit in a booth, so I figure I’ll block the baby in and it’ll be fine. Then Ethan decides he REALLY wants to sit next to me, but there’s no room with the baby blocked in. Whilst I’m arguing with Ethan, I turn to see Elliot, crawling on top of the table, heading for the salt and pepper. I grab Elliot, ask for a table with a high chair. Ethan begins to pitch a fit because he REALLY wants a booth. I threaten to leave. Eventually everyone calms down and we have a relatively nice lunch . . . until Elliot begins screaming because he is finished.
On to the mall. I attempt to make a bee-line for the store I want, but in a new mall, I’m lucky to find the directory. In fact, on the way to the directory, we pass the play land (bad) and a nice young man who wants to moisturize and buff my nails and obviously has no idea what it’s like to shop with two small boys. I’m way too polite and end up spending several minutes trying to tell him no thank you while Ethan begs me to go back to the play land. I make it to the store. I grabbed a few pair of crops and head for a fitting room. Why they don’t make the doors and walls go to the floor is beyond me. Ethan promptly sticks his head under the sides to see if the other two rooms are occupied. I instruct him on etiquette and he decides to just lay on the floor and look out under the door, watching traffic. Elliot thinks that’s a great idea, but carries it further and crawls out under the door. I again pull my pants back on, run out, grab him and strap him into the stroller, screaming. I’m sure all the other customers were grateful to hear us finally leave. I end the day with two pair crops, and three tee-shirts. I hope I like them, because I don’t really recall what they looked like on me.
Later, as I sat in the play area letting them run, I called my mother and arrived at the conclusion that although shopping is still not what I’d call fun, it is definitely entertaining. And, many years from now, I may just enjoy it.
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