Possumblog

Okay, back to Number 6

I enjoy shopping. Really. I enjoy shopping for clothes with Reba. No, REALLY! I even don't mind going shopping with the kids--as long as it's only one or two of them. But all of us together?

I'm not particularly fond of that. The kids who are not directly involved in the shopping process quickly get bored, and want to have some diversion, and for some reason Reba wants me to stand right there to ask me if this one, or this one, or this one is better, and all the while I'm trying to keep the internecine strife to a low rumble and keep the manikins from being disrobed and dearmed, or trying to answer a billion inane questions such as what is this stain in the floor. It's not fun, because I wind up being the babysitter for a bunch of babies who do not wish to be sat upon. The best thing I can do is take a couple and walk them around the store, or do what my father used to do and just go back out with a couple and sit in the car.

But someone--a certain bedmate of mine--had laid down the law before the trip that there was going to be no going off on separate shopping missions. For some reason, she thinks it's better to have all the kids in one compact squirming fighting fidgeting bickering going-off-and-hiding-between-the-clothes mass. I think mainly she thinks this because she rarely has to deal with this sort of mass, herself being distracted by this, or that, or maybe by this thing, which is cute, and goes with that.

So, off to The Summit. First stop, Barnes and Noble, where we had to find a couple of books for Ashley, and thankfully didn't all pile out and go in. Reba went in, and only took 45 minutes. I don't know why it took so long. Then on to Parisian. "Bargain Days," as I mentioned earlier. The sale that all of Birmingham's female population await with an anticipation second only to...ahhh, well, probably something, but I'm not sure what. It's actually a good sale--stuff is marked down to something approximating its actual value, rather than the usual equation of Value X 10.

And we stayed together. More or less. I can only stand and wrangle children for so long before I have to get them to all sit down in one place and amuse themselves. First, clothes for Rebecca, so I had Jonathan and Catherine, and after about five minutes of impatient whining, we sat on an ottoman (a Turk's favorite piece of furniture!) in the junior's section and passed the time thinking up words for each letter of the alphabet. Call a letter, say four words that begin with that letter. Move to the next letter. Almost entertaining. But at least the scenery in the junior department is pleasant.

Rebecca got her stuff, then it was off to find something for Oldest. Did that waiting in the women's department with Rebecca, Cat, and Boy. The girls did endless repetitions of various girly pattycake games. Loudly. Boy and I sat opposite them on another ottoman and just sat. Then it was time for Cat and Boy to find something. For once, I was able to leave Miss Wiggly with Mom and Jonathan and I went and looked for pants. Found one pair in his size, and a nice button up shirt, and a big silly yellow SpongeBob shirt. "You DO realize you can't wear that to church, right?"

"DAAaaaad!"

I suppose he did.

Back to the girls, who were still trying stuff on, then the final stop to find something for Mom. Who did manage to find some things, but not a lot, and therefore was perturbed.

And then we paid. I didn't know how much it was at the time, and it's probably just as well, because I know that I am always uncomfortable seeing a grown man cry in public.

Thank goodness it was all on sale, or else we'd be the most stylish homeless people around.

And then, to eat. Johnny Rockets, the loud bright noisy place where you somehow manage to delude yourself into thinking that the fact that your hamburger is served by some guy in a snappy white campaign hat that it's worth spending nine bucks a head. As you can guess, I would rather have gone to McDonalds. Crap, yes, but inexpensive crap. To make matters worse, I had stopped beforehand to get some cash, and I STILL wound up having to borrow money from the Bank of Boy, who was nearly beside himself in anguish at having to fork over some dough so we wouldn't have to wash dishes. Of course, the moment we left we had to go right back to the grocery store just to get him his money back.

Then, home. Where I found out that Rebecca's English project dealing with the book The Watsons Go to Birmingham--1963, had sat just as she left it on Thursday, and she had not even started writing anything, and it was due today. Which meant Sunday was going to be busy, and late, because we had to travel for one of our Bible Bowl competitions, and wouldn't be getting home until late.

About which, in just a moment--for those keeping score at home, that will make #7 on the list of unexpected changes to plans.

Posted by Terry Oglesby at October 10, 2005 10:32 AM