Shopping excursion started at Toys R Us. We came up with several good ideas, but Thing 1 has always had that shopping gene. And since we were shopping for her very best friend, well, things had to be PERFECT. Perfection didn't come from Toys R Us. What DID come from Toys R Us was her backpack for kindergarten. I really wanted a "nice" one that all the other moms would be jealous of, even had it picked out (Hello, Thirty-One!) but then the @$%^ Princesses had to blow that for me, of course.
It was the only thing I had going--Mommy would get a pretty, "big girl" backpack. But Rapunzel apparently speaks to Thing 1. She called to her, and she dropped it on me: "Mom, seriously, I'm going to be in kindergarten. I'm big enough to pick out my own backpack, you are embarrassing me." How do I argue with that? She's right, but not even for reasons she can fathom. She's my first to go to school, I thought I was ready. And I know it will be fine--but I'm due a little time to freak out. She doesn't need me to pick out her backpack today, what's next? She doesn't want hugs and kisses and cuddles? She doesn't want me to pick her hair color? Decide if she can get her belly button pierced?
Alas, I survived a genuine panic attack. I think, anyway.
On to the mall, to Target. I suggested we eat first. NO. Not possible. But about halfway thru? We start whining and crying that we are starving. Of course. So we find an acceptable gift. But only because one doll is named Delacey. I'm totally serious. Not that we have a complex or anything.
Dinner at Panera. 20 minute break while Thing 2 went #2. I'm serious, public bathrooms are her thing. It grosses me out more than I can even tell you.
I decide to swing into a shoe store to find a new pair of flipflops. As a gift to myself for my impending date of birth celebration.
I swear I will never be one of those parents who apes out on a kid in public. But...in the shoe store, fighting with a big, sweaty lady who was looking thru sale shoes and wanted the same size as me? Thing 1 thought it the perfect time to lift up my skirt. The store was busy. And my ass was pointed toward the door of the mall. Every ounce in my body wanted to literally beat her with that stick. To add insult to injury, as I turn to slap my skirt down and maybe accidentally her hand with it? I dropped my hold on the pair of shoes I wanted and the other "kind soul" picked them up and took off with them to the cash register.
I had complete intentions of leaving the mall right then. And I should have.
Tromping back thru Target, with two girls in "Mall time out", I got sidetracked. Since I didn't get shoes, maybe I could find something cute and cheap for the date of birth celebration dinner. As I picked up three simple things to try on, somehow Thing 1 found a...something. It was like the top half of a prom dress, I have no idea what the @#$% it really was. A blouse? I can't imagine it was THAT short of a dress, but who knows, maybe? She insisted on trying it on while I was trying on my items.
Fine.
My stuff looked much better on the hanger, usually the case when I'm actually WANTING to find new clothes. So, being a silly smart-a**? I decided to put the little purple pretty thing on.
It was a size 5. I wore a size 5 to my Junior Prom. I remember that because I was soooo proud.
I got the thing over my head, my shoulders (it was strapless) and somewhat situated over my "not size 5" bosom. Thing 1 finally noticed, Thing 2 joined in laughing, it was a great moment. Solid bonding.
It was a pretty snug fit. So I expected to struggle, to wiggle. But it was stuck like chuck. Not budging. Not even a little.
Thing 1 thought this was hysterical. And it was. Thing 2 just kept pointing and laughing, together they were laughing so loud the little clerk girl came and knocked on the door to see that everything was "going ok."
HELL NO, but seriously--what was I going to tell her? I was in my skivvies, with this tiny shirt/dress stuck on my DD's.
I got tickled. We all three laughed for about three solid minutes, and then I realized--this really was not funny. This thing was seriously stuck. Badly. As in, I might have to rip it off to get out of it. Suddenly? It was not funny. At all. In fact, it was pretty rock bottom for me, a new low. Healthy lifestyle is back ON. Hardcore. Starting immediately.
But first, I had to enlist help. From a 5-year old. Who likes to tell stories to everyone. For this, I would pay dearly.
As I sat on the floor of the dressing room (aka panel dividers) in Target, my firstborn pulled and tugged while I wiggled, trying to free myself from this size 5 Chinese trap. FINALLY, it moved a tiny smidge, then a smidge more and Thing 1 freed me from my purple prison.
As we busted it out of Target, Thing 1 finally says, "Here is what we learned tonight. If you are going to try something on, make sure you can get it off. Otherwise it could be a really bad deal."
Of course, there was a lady and her daughter walking in front of us, shoulders shaking, taking in every word. She turned around and said, "You are one smart little girl." And then to me? "Don't worry, we've all been there."
I don't think so, lady. But thanks.
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