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I have enjoyed shopping for a very long time. Years ago it was combat boots, stone-washed jeans, and nerdy graphic tees in my shopping bags. Nowadays it’s Converse sneakers, a dry pair of pants, and more nerdy graphic tees. But my shopping bags aren’t for me anymore. They’re usually for my son.
My personal style habits have certainly changed (thank goodness); no more blue hair for this momma. But one of my worst shopping habits has not improved. Send me to the grocery store for bread, eggs, and milk and that’s what I walk out with. Send me to a clothing store for a pair of pants (for baby or momma) and I’ll walk out with shoes, sunglasses, and some clearanced clothing item I’ll sadly never take the tags off of. Shopping is not a word I usually associate with focus.
After getting domesticated and slightly more mature and responsible, I have become a more reluctant shopper. I worry about things like quality and bargain. Long ago I bought things for the sake of buying them, but now I usually talk myself out of purchases before making the major commitment to actually buy.
Shopping is no longer spontaneous. If i am going to go to the effort of packing snacks, toys, and dry pants for my son, you can bet I better have a good reason for it. Sitting in a stroller or shopping cart is my son’s idea of punishment. His patience comes in limited quantities. Equally as embarrassing as a tantrum or prison break from the stroller, are the things that keep him entertained. Playing with pots and pans like he does in our kitchen at home, pulling clothes from the hanger because he laughs when I put them back, or grunting to reach things he shouldn’t touch, my attention must be in two places at once. Even worse is when he honks the car horn on his baby keys at little old ladies who are walking too slowly in the store. With a blushing face, I always offer my apology.