I do not remember what it is like to shop independently. To casually stroll through clothing racks without a baby pulling a sweater or two from the wall, as he expresses a wide-eyed "uh oh!" while the plastic hangers clatter to the ground. Seemingly, clothing stores are the most child-inaccessible places, as all the racks and tables are thisclose to one another, making stroller maneuvers next to impossible without taking out a stack of jeans or pile of camisoles. Undoubtedly, this is a strategic measure to ensure that their stores are toddler free, though I would suggest just widening the aisles a tad so the sales associate doesn't have to scramble after me cleaning up the mess of clothes I leave in our wake as I apologetically make my way to the exit.
These days, shopping isn't so much a pleasurable event as it is a race against the clock to see if I can make it in and out of stores without visiting a little town us parents know as Meltdownville. It's right next to Imgonnathrowatantrum City, in case you wondered. To avoid both, I am usually forced to provide edible entertainment via a lollipop or ridiculously overpriced Auntie Ann's pretzel sticks. Both require extensive wipedowns post consumption and vigorous teeth-brushing when we get home. I am not proud of this routine, but I also need to be able to buy a new bra every once in five years in peace. (You think I kid. And a nursing one doesn't count.) Plus, I consider it a service to fellow patrons, as a lollipop guarantees his mouth is preoccupied and nary a whine can escape when there's a root beer dum dum to enjoy.
So we went to the mall today, and in addition to the bi-decade undergarment I acquired, I also am a complete SUCKER for baby jammies. I dare you to argue that there's anything cuter than a freshly bathed munchkin in fleece footy pajamas. They happened to be on sale for $3.99 a pair at The Children's Place, so I snatched up a couple of keepers and couldn't wait until bedtime to zip him into a pair. As you can see.
These days, shopping isn't so much a pleasurable event as it is a race against the clock to see if I can make it in and out of stores without visiting a little town us parents know as Meltdownville. It's right next to Imgonnathrowatantrum City, in case you wondered. To avoid both, I am usually forced to provide edible entertainment via a lollipop or ridiculously overpriced Auntie Ann's pretzel sticks. Both require extensive wipedowns post consumption and vigorous teeth-brushing when we get home. I am not proud of this routine, but I also need to be able to buy a new bra every once in five years in peace. (You think I kid. And a nursing one doesn't count.) Plus, I consider it a service to fellow patrons, as a lollipop guarantees his mouth is preoccupied and nary a whine can escape when there's a root beer dum dum to enjoy.
So we went to the mall today, and in addition to the bi-decade undergarment I acquired, I also am a complete SUCKER for baby jammies. I dare you to argue that there's anything cuter than a freshly bathed munchkin in fleece footy pajamas. They happened to be on sale for $3.99 a pair at The Children's Place, so I snatched up a couple of keepers and couldn't wait until bedtime to zip him into a pair. As you can see.
So, goodnight BFFs. I'm off to snuggle with the cutest, polkadotiest little bear you ever did see.
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