fashion foolishness

I usually consider myself a decent decision-maker when it comes to parenting. Not great, but not awful either. That was, until I took the boys to Ann Taylor LOFT.

I had some Christmas money to spend and was already out in Grandville, so I thought I would give it a try. The boys are usually pretty good shoppers, and I believed if I put them in the double stroller that they would just sit back and relaxed while I perused.

Yeah, right. I should have known my problems were beginning when Caden began whining at the store entrance about wanting a sucker. I struggled to get the double stroller through the double doors. Should have turned around there. Didn't.

As I maneuvered the large stroller around the tiny store, I intentionally worked my way to the back where the sale rack was located. There I found a few pairs of pants to try on and headed to the dressing room. The vocal crabbing increased from the boys, but I was determined to see this through.

Except I couldn't see the stroller into the dressing room. It was too big. I told the boys to hang on as I tipped it slightly to fit it through, but to no avail. Finally I decided to park it next to the dressing room. But the tiny store left me no where to put it. Leave, you think? If only...

Once in the dressing room I stripped down and began to try on pants. "Mommy!" Caden exclaimed, "you have underwear like me!" I affirmed my newly potty-trained son that yes, we did have matching underwear. However, this was not enough for him. He continued on talking in a loud, non-dressing room voice about my "undies." Meanwhile, distracted by my undergarment conversation with my three-year-old, the younger brother slyly opened the dressing room door and was apparently headed for the nearest exit (or the sales rack, whichever came first). Talking about my underwear no longer became embarrassing as I left the dressing room wearing nothing but. I corralled Evan, headed back into the privacy of the dressing room, put on pants to cover my well-discussed underwear and left the dressing room.

Somebody had moved the beast of a stroller. Final straw. There was a small coup of women forming to eject me from the store. I quickly threw the boys in the stroller, left the store (still struggling to get through the doors) and put two crying boys in the car.

You would think I made a mental note on the way home not to shop with my boys again. Instead I was thinking how I need to make sure I'm wearing publicy acceptable underwear...all the time.