I've never loved shopping. I'm crazy cheap and really want every purchase I make to be $20 or less--which is pretty much like searching for unicorns and leprechauns. For clothes, I tend to hold out for clearance season--when anything that would fit a woman of my average size has sold the fuck out long ago and I'm left to get creative with a $10 extra-small dress (aka, SHIRT) and a $6 sweater that's 2 sizes too big (aka, TUNIC). My college roommates will attest that I was no better at the grocery store, where I refused to use a cart for the length of my late-teens and early 20s, buying only what my two arms could carry. "The cart" seemed like such a commitment to spending time and money in a place where the florescent glare and walk-in cooler climate was already a deterrent. I could not bring myself to use one.
As a mom, I've gotten better about grocery shopping by necessity--mostly because canned beer with butter beans and ketchup are not enough to sustain a pair of growing kids for a week at a time. I've long since given in to pushing "the cart"--which woulda been a hell of a lot easier 15 years ago, when it didn't have my under-age entourage hanging off of it. Clearance shopping for clothes is still my jam, but it's definitely harder now that I'm older and "boho" can end up looking more "hobo" if I'm not careful with my "creative sizing" practices.
Unfortunately, this form of bargain-hunting takes a considerable amount of time that, as a mom, I no longer have. Online shopping is great when it works out--but that $50 minimum for free shipping most places cling to has become "the cart" of my adulthood. I want no part of that noise. Plus, I often get what I pay for in the fit department with online purchases. The model I scrolled over was probably safety-pinned to within an inch of her life to give that dress some shape--because the same piece is more like an over-sized pillowcase with a neck-hole when it shows up at my house. In my lengthy experience, it's usually best to just try the cheap shit on the store.
So shopping, these days, is a like paramilitary operation--weeks of reconn from across a crowded Target, taking unexplained detours past the women's section on the way to the toy aisle with begging children in tow. Or trolling Old Navy online, clicking "find in store" and making mental notes of local inventory until my next kid-less moment, when I can rappel in like a SWAT Team and perform a surgical extraction of whatever item I've been stalking.
Through careful coordination with Ray and brief half-hour windows before and after my extremely part-time work schedule, I recently had the opportunity to indulge in some kid-free shopping of both the grocery and retail variety. So often, in my reflections on the Mom Experience, I write myself into a place where the hidden value kids add to mundane routines is mystically revealed to me, where I realize that I'll one day long to re-live these character-building instances where my kids thrust simple errands into adversity. In this case? Not so much. Here's why shopping ALONE is a mom's unparalleled bliss.
1) Because getting in and out of the car takes less than 20 minutes.
2) Because I can cross a parking lot without obliviously walking into the path of oncoming cars.
3) Because I can be the asshole who forgoes the cart at the grocery store (and then proceeds to overload my hand-held basket until it's weight threatens to separate my arm at the elbow).
4) Because buying one bottle of wine vs. a full week's worth of groceries allows me to check out with "10 Items or Less".
5) Because, when the old lady in front of me pays with a check, I can peacefully zone out on headlines about what a Duggar did or who Taylor Swift is dating without one of my kids lying down in the checkout lane because waiting is "SO BORING".
6) Because I can listen to whatever I want in the car between stores--a song, NPR, the quiet current of my own thoughts--without interference from the constant back-seat barrage of questions, comments, and demands to which I must respond with no less than full verbal acknowledgement.
7) Because I don't have to share a dressing room with someone who's trying to crawl under the dividers into the next cubicle.
8) Because I can focus on the task of pawing through the underwear bin in search of my size without simultaneously fielding questions about why it's "taking SO LONG".
9) Because at no point during the outing will I scream and cry about losing an imaginary contest like "who blinked first".
10) Because I will never be compelled to hide in the center of a clothing rack.
11) Because I won't wrestle those around me for the chance to place items on the check-out counter or complain that others got "more turns than me" to do so.
12) Because I can avoid confusing the self-check-out sensors by resisting the urge to fuck with items I've already bagged, especially after I've been repeatedly warned to leave that stuff the hell alone.
13) Because I can exit the store without visiting the toy section or explaining why I won't be purchasing a gum ball the size of a human skull from the machine we pass on the way out.
14) Because I can (but still probably won't) buy an over-priced coffee drink from the painfully slow millennial at the Starbuck's kiosk without being guilted into an additional $5 juice box (that I will promptly spill on myself and later discard on the floor board of the car).
15) Because every mommy needs a minute. And those sensible flats aren't gonna buy themselves.
Happy shopping, friends!
As a mom, I've gotten better about grocery shopping by necessity--mostly because canned beer with butter beans and ketchup are not enough to sustain a pair of growing kids for a week at a time. I've long since given in to pushing "the cart"--which woulda been a hell of a lot easier 15 years ago, when it didn't have my under-age entourage hanging off of it. Clearance shopping for clothes is still my jam, but it's definitely harder now that I'm older and "boho" can end up looking more "hobo" if I'm not careful with my "creative sizing" practices.
Unfortunately, this form of bargain-hunting takes a considerable amount of time that, as a mom, I no longer have. Online shopping is great when it works out--but that $50 minimum for free shipping most places cling to has become "the cart" of my adulthood. I want no part of that noise. Plus, I often get what I pay for in the fit department with online purchases. The model I scrolled over was probably safety-pinned to within an inch of her life to give that dress some shape--because the same piece is more like an over-sized pillowcase with a neck-hole when it shows up at my house. In my lengthy experience, it's usually best to just try the cheap shit on the store.
So shopping, these days, is a like paramilitary operation--weeks of reconn from across a crowded Target, taking unexplained detours past the women's section on the way to the toy aisle with begging children in tow. Or trolling Old Navy online, clicking "find in store" and making mental notes of local inventory until my next kid-less moment, when I can rappel in like a SWAT Team and perform a surgical extraction of whatever item I've been stalking.
Through careful coordination with Ray and brief half-hour windows before and after my extremely part-time work schedule, I recently had the opportunity to indulge in some kid-free shopping of both the grocery and retail variety. So often, in my reflections on the Mom Experience, I write myself into a place where the hidden value kids add to mundane routines is mystically revealed to me, where I realize that I'll one day long to re-live these character-building instances where my kids thrust simple errands into adversity. In this case? Not so much. Here's why shopping ALONE is a mom's unparalleled bliss.
1) Because getting in and out of the car takes less than 20 minutes.
2) Because I can cross a parking lot without obliviously walking into the path of oncoming cars.
3) Because I can be the asshole who forgoes the cart at the grocery store (and then proceeds to overload my hand-held basket until it's weight threatens to separate my arm at the elbow).
4) Because buying one bottle of wine vs. a full week's worth of groceries allows me to check out with "10 Items or Less".
5) Because, when the old lady in front of me pays with a check, I can peacefully zone out on headlines about what a Duggar did or who Taylor Swift is dating without one of my kids lying down in the checkout lane because waiting is "SO BORING".
6) Because I can listen to whatever I want in the car between stores--a song, NPR, the quiet current of my own thoughts--without interference from the constant back-seat barrage of questions, comments, and demands to which I must respond with no less than full verbal acknowledgement.
7) Because I don't have to share a dressing room with someone who's trying to crawl under the dividers into the next cubicle.
8) Because I can focus on the task of pawing through the underwear bin in search of my size without simultaneously fielding questions about why it's "taking SO LONG".
9) Because at no point during the outing will I scream and cry about losing an imaginary contest like "who blinked first".
10) Because I will never be compelled to hide in the center of a clothing rack.
11) Because I won't wrestle those around me for the chance to place items on the check-out counter or complain that others got "more turns than me" to do so.
12) Because I can avoid confusing the self-check-out sensors by resisting the urge to fuck with items I've already bagged, especially after I've been repeatedly warned to leave that stuff the hell alone.
13) Because I can exit the store without visiting the toy section or explaining why I won't be purchasing a gum ball the size of a human skull from the machine we pass on the way out.
14) Because I can (but still probably won't) buy an over-priced coffee drink from the painfully slow millennial at the Starbuck's kiosk without being guilted into an additional $5 juice box (that I will promptly spill on myself and later discard on the floor board of the car).
15) Because every mommy needs a minute. And those sensible flats aren't gonna buy themselves.
Happy shopping, friends!
Comments
Post a Comment