The trumpets did not blare; not literally. But mommy boot camp began at 7am this morning. We were out the door by 8. Why ? School shopping. My soldiers tried on every piece of clothing and shoe they/ I own. I was ready. I had a list.
It began with the supplies. I had originally decided to do this on a separate visit, but much like the dentist's office, it only prolongs the agony. Besides, the kids had their lists in their pockets. They have their lists in every pocket of every pair of pants, shorts, sweats, and capris they own. I know. I've washed them. And you all know how I feel about that. "Quiet Mother!" I scream in my head. So let's move on....
My children made me dizzy. I stood there while they zoomed around the school aisle; pulling, plucking, choosing and collecting everything from index cards, folders, glue stix to scented book sox and stinky erasers. Does that make science better? If it has a hint of orange? What happened to grocery bags? I'm old. We came to an agreement; no super sharp scissors, we do not need 7 boxes of crayons AND markers AND colored pencils. I just nodded, double checked the list and swiped the card.
Then came shoes. My daughter had a pair of flip-flops and a grungy pair of sneaksleft in her closet. That was it. Her foot has doubled in size since last week. Her booty socks are so tiny and tight even THEY leave blisters. She goes ape in the store, yanking no fewer than seven boxes of shoes and has three more under her chin and tucked in her arms. "WHOA!" We come to an agreement. It's BOGO plus I have a coupon. That means two for you, Maddie. Ben has decided that for each occasion over the next year he will wear galoshes. They have big green frogs and huge poopy brown mushrooms on them. We come to an agreement. He will buy two shoes (of the same size and style) and I will buy one pair for him. Maddie calculates this means she can have four. (?)We come to an agreement. She may have three and I will buy one more for her. I do something completely unlike me, I buy frivolous shoes. They are incredible and I think I will wear them for every occasion for the next year...Go ahead Ben, get your damn galoshes.
Finally, we head for coats/clothes. My kids both need dress coats, play coats, jackets, pants, shirts, Maddie needs socks....It sounds like I've not shopped for the kids since they wore onesies, but that's not true. If you're a mom, you know this is actually a light list. While one is trying on, the other is moping in the racks of clothes or beating the sibling with what is already in the buggy. I am almost ready to find a fantastic spot for those plastic hangers hiding in the bottom of my buggy. I get what I need and head to the register. So far, pretty good. I've only hissed twice and used that low "mommy growl" once. Their lives and fannies have been spared.
NOW it's my turn. I need to get clothes. I send the children to a spot where I can see them and instruct them to sit. They begin to play the "Don't touch me " game, which is followed quickly by a silent shoving match. I have begun to hyperventilate and my pulse can be seen in my forehead and eyes. EVERYONE heads into the dressing room while I try on. My children are quickly subdued since my elbows and arms flailing to get into the clothes has knocked each of them in the head, chest, back and eyes. I'll check for concussions in twenty-four hours. We are in a closet. I give up.
We come to an agreement. I get a couple of things and we all agree that we need to eat.
On the drive home, there is a joyous ripping sound and my car begins to wreak of oranges, strawberries, vanilla...kind of like an angry TCBY's. Whew! Thank GOD I drive a convertible.
My kids are extremely excited; all new stuff. We come to an agreement; new clothes will not be wadded up in drawers. New supplies will make it to and through the first day of school. Shoes will NOT be used as boats for the miscellaneous wildlife at the pond or in mud puddles.
I sigh. My credit card's numbers have worn off and it's smouldering. I slip into my frivolous shoes and am content. One kid goes dashing outside with their new winter coat on. The other is gluing name tags that they made with their new crayons on their new notebook paper (cut with? Yep, new scissors).
I make an agreement; I let them go and enjoy their new stuff and click my shoes.
