It is time to go school shopping again. When you have daughters. When you hoped for daughters. When you are thrilled and thankful that you were given daughters. You have fantasies. At least I did. You look forward to them becoming teens. Teaching them to use make-up. You visualize fun shopping trips together and going out for lunch. Having nice chats about their lives. And do you know what? All of those things happen.
And when you're the Mom of the Perpetually Grounded. Sometimes more.
When you pull up at the store everyone is excited and they laugh because they are matching, wearing the really funky big yellow sunglasses they both bought . Or one of them does and the other one gets ticked off and says, "no I was wearing mine first, take them off." And then they argue about it in an obvious way all the way in to the store and in to the restroom where they get distracted by the fact that only one of them has a brush and won't let the other use it until she gives her a hug which results in a mock slap fight which is when you say act your age and the youngest holds up 4 fingers and says, "I'm this many." They then emerge from the restroom with their arms around each other and skip into the store. Ahead of you. While you follow a little behind and smile because you don't really know them but think they are kind of cute.
They pick stuff out and go in the dressing room and they show off their outfits and they look adorable and you smile and tell them so. They come out wearing something a color blind hooker with delusions of actual dress size would choose and you frown (or if you're me laugh) and shake your head no and they roll their eyes and say "why-not?" They beg a little bit and then finally give up when their sister tells them they look like a freak and they have no taste. Or they tell their sister "shut up, I hate you, you suck" and then they give up. Sometimes the middle one will pick out a dress she really loves and it looks nice but kind of "different" on her. You tell her it is a nice dress ...but kind of different. She says she knows, that's why she likes it. When the youngest (the one who was born with no tact) sees it she says, "No. Do not buy that dress. Just don't. It's awful. Mom, tell her, don't let her buy it. Think, she tells her sister, what would Stacy and Clinton say about that dress, they would shame you!" And then the middle one tears up and has a tantrum in the middle of the store, flinging the clothes around, announcing, "I freakin hate her, she's a jerk, you both hate it, fine I just won't get the dress." And you have to take her out in the aisle for a whispered lecture about her mouth and acting her age and then console her and tell her the dress is fine. Because it is. It's just...different. The youngest ( one who was born with no tact) then follows this up with a loud proclamation in the tightly enclosed changing room hall that a skirt she tried on looked "gay". (she didn't mean cheerful) Disregarding the fact that she not only has good friends but a beloved family member who are Gay and that I pointed out to her before that using this as derogatory slang might hurt someones feelings. "But no", she says, "I mean it looks gay", in a special tone meant to explain to me that she meant "gay" in the "I don't like it sense", not the "people who are fine with me" sense. So yeah, Dense and Tactless. So I resort to "just don't talk anymore today, please."
You tell them to head to the underwear section while you grab notebook paper and when you return they are all aflutter because they found cute undies with elephants and peacocks on them. The hold them up and then the youngest says "look, peacocks" and then puts them over your head and at that moment you hear "Hi there" and turn around and it's your neighbor. Luckily the one who has lived next to you a long time and is still willing to speak with you and acknowledge you in public. You make yourself feel better by forgetting she is the neighbor who will talk to anyone, about anything.... forever but she is very sweet so you really don't mind when she stands there for 15 minutes discussing her dogs sensitive stomach and that she ate grass this morning but never did throw up. (the dog that is). You finally get away and somehow have arranged for a play session for the dogs even though you missed that part and don't realize it till she shows up at your house that evening. It may have been while you were distracted by the girls dancing past you wearing polka dotted rain boots with the elastic still holding them together. You let them get the cute underwear even though they are more expensive and are so glad you did when the next day during the middle ones birthday dinner, which includes their dad, your son-in-law and her boyfriend, the youngest tells the middle one to watch how she's sitting in her skirt and the middle one announces "I don't care if you saw them, they are awesome, they have Elephants" and the youngest answers "well I have Peacocks" and then the oldest who didn't even go shopping with you chimes in with, "Oh yeah, well I have Seahorses". And then smiles like she won a contest.
But anyway. Let's return to the store where in typical fashion the middle one finds everything she likes within a half hour. She knows what she likes when she sees it, grabs it up and is good to go. Which may be why she came home with red pants, a yellow and purple floral print skirt, a gray and white plaid dress with ruffles down the front and neon green Converse. The youngest one tries on 50 things and picks out 3. They will be great looking outfits put together with excellent style. 2 of them will be worn once and never seen again. The other will be seen once a week and the rest of the time she will appear in jeans and tank tops.
The middle one is becoming bored and antsy...and a little frisky. She starts riding the shopping cart when I'm not looking, rotated with complaining about how long it takes her sister to find things, telling me she is horrible and she hates shopping with her. The youngest finally makes her small selection informing me that we will obviously have to go to another store because this one has "nothing". We are walking towards the front. I am momentarily distracted by a cute blouse. I hear the words, playfully uttered, I'm going to run you over and turn to see the middle one revving up the cart behind her sister to a good clip just as the youngest stops beside me. And yep. That's when it happens. And the youngest for the Second time in public, that I know of, the first time being in 8th grade math class. LoudlyYells Out.....
you got it.....the F Word .
when her sister rams the cart into the back of her ankle. The middle one quietly says, "I was joking, I wasn't really going to hit you, why did you stop?"
As for me and the circle of elderly people who just happen to be surrounding us, we are aghast. And none of us can escape because they are blocking the aisle. The angry looking gentleman behind the middle one can't get past and the gray haired lady with very red lipstick looks like she would know how to handle this if it were her kid and at that moment I would be happy to oblige her with a new child. Everyone is frozen in place by my kids and it's like a slow mo movie moment. The youngest finally looks up from holding her ankle and nonchalantly scoots off to the side so everyone can get their highly offended selves out of there.
I am a study in the other F word; Flabbergasted. You would imagine after dealing with my oldest, who once went through a period where she refused to wears shoes or wash her clothes and told people to F off if she thought they looked at her funny, I would be immune to this. But no. I am not. All that I can get out of my mouth is "Excuse Me?"
Obviously it is time to go and to top off our trip I am so busy with the under the breath lecture in the checkout line ( in which the one with no tact actually tried to defend herself with the reasoning, "but it really hurt bad" ) that I don't notice it's my turn until the cashier has to call out ma'am several times before I realize he means me. Which the long line of people really appreciated. Even better when the middle one blocked the aisle with the cart again and someone had to say excuse me, ( very snottily I might add, the rudeness of some people, geez ; ) to get past. Oh yes, we were a big hit!
And the youngest actually had the guts to ask, "where are we going next?" when we hit the parking lot.
That would be home.
Forever. Because I'm Never leaving the house again.
Or at least not with them.
Until tomorrow.
Because the youngest one didn't buy anything to wear back to school but two tops......
and some Peacock underwear.
© 2010 All Rights Reserved
Showing posts with label Shop Dead. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shop Dead. Show all posts
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
The G Families Big Drug Store Adventure
Or. How many Grounded-s does it take to buy a pregnancy test. Or. How long does milk really last in a hot car. Or. I know it's Wednesday but would you seriously expect me to be wordless. However..
This post was written without any quotation marks because I don't feel like it. I didn't double check my other punctuation either.
My Monday started pretty much as usual except for when the kids told me that morning, Oh by the way we get out early this week because it's the last week of school. I somehow missed this because they haven't done it before and I thought all the important stuff was over so I kind of lost interest and just looked forward to not waking up at 5 am....even though I will anyway.
Middlest informed me she would be out at eleven so I figured, ok, I would get her first then hit the grocery so that I could waste the morning playing on my blog. I then lost track of time until a quarter till when I had to hurry and get dressed to rush out the door. At 11 I texted, leaving. As I was pulling away she sent: you actually have 20 more minutes. Great. I was in the car so I decided to head to the store first. All I needed was a handful of things including milk and a frozen lasagna since I was planning ahead to not feel like cooking dinner.
As I headed in I get a text from Biggest. Please take me to the bank on my lunch hour. She pulls this all the time and usually I say no because she works 2 blocks away from the bank and I'm trying to encourage her to learn how to drive but every now and then I do it just to humor her and visit for a few minutes. I told her it would have to be fast because I would have milk in the car. She said, I wanted to talk to you too. At this moment Middlest starts texting me again about getting a ride from someone else. I say, no because I'm already out and it will kill just enough time in between the store and picking up Biggest. I am wandering through he store stopping every two feet to field texts from both of them and at one point was so distracted I wandered away from the chicken legs even though I meant to buy them, which turned out to be a good thing. Biggest was being cryptic and Middlest was being a pain because they had wasted so much of my time that she was ready and I was still in the store.
I finally head out and get Mid and tell her to text Big and tell her we were on our way and to be ready because I have milk in the car. We pick her up and head to the bank and she says:
I kind of wanted to stop somewhere else too.
What?? I have milk.
She says, I still don't feel good, how long is it usually before you can tell.
Digress to the conversation and question I had asked her a couple days ago when she said:
I don't know what's wrong with me. I've felt nauseated all week and all I want to do is eat tomatoes. And I'm so tired all I can do is sleep.
Yeah, that question, to which I got the reply
I don't know.
So I asked it again and got the same answer, so I asked....
Have you been being careful?
You don't need to know if I'm being careful.
To which I replied, I guess we are going to the drug store. But make it fast, I have milk.
And Middlest asked, what are you talking about?
No answer, to which she replied, Oh.... you guys suck at keeping secrets.
So we pull up at the drug store and I say I'm staying in the car to wait, I guess because I thought I could keep the milk colder that way or something, I don't really know. Biggest starts to whine that she wants me to come in and when I won't she starts a tug of war with Middlest to which I say:
No, someone she knows will end up seeing you and think it's for her and we will end up with rumors. But she persisted until I remembered my milk and told Middlest to just go.
Let's stop a moment to ponder that Biggest is not only married she is going to be 23 years old next week.........Ok, let's go...
I sat there for about 3 minutes and then decided I was bored and would go in.
I also knew what was going to happen next.
And yes, as I traveled down the aisles I followed the sound of the giggling and then heard, oh wait, I hear mom ( I carry a big noisy key chain and pretty much sound like Santa coming) and came around the corner to find Biggest taking her phone away from her ear because she was calling me,
Which was what I knew was going to going to happen next.
She then asked, Where do they keep them?
I looked at her and said, How would I know I haven't been pregnant in 15 years.
They were standing in the tampon aisle. Yeah, wrong aisle ladies.
So we proceeded to look until we found: The pregnancy tests.....behind locked glass.
Apparently they are a hot commodity. I had no idea.
We then have a 5 minute diatribe from Biggest about how stupid that is.
So I tell her, hey, I have milk.
So we stand around and she dithers until I tell her which one to get.
Then she asks, Who opens the case?
Me: Ask at the pharmacy. 2 yards away.
Biggest: You ask.
Me: No.
Goes on several more minutes before she turns to Middlest and says: You ask.
To which Mid and I both firmlyshout answer, NO no.
Biggest: I don't want to ask at the pharmacy, should I ask at the front?
Me: I don't care who, just ask someone, I Have Milk!!
So she goes to the front. Middlest and I stand there for a few moments before we look at each other and remember where we are standing and run to the end of the aisle to gawk in fascination at a canned tea display.
Middlest says, Tea will work. Tea, yes, that is safe and looks innocent enough.
Biggest comes back saying. I can't believe this. Half my clients are in here today. They're everywhere. I don't want anyone to see me. Please go ask..
Me: Um, No.
Middlest? No Way.
Me: I have milk.
She goes to the front and comes back and says "I have to ask at the back."
She heads to the back and Finally someone comes to open it while she turns red and points.
Then Biggest quickly scouts for her clients and all 3 of us head to the counter while she pays for it making sure to noisily spill her change and turn even more red and call plenty of attention to the three of us standing at the counter with one item. Middlest and I making sure to hang back in case there is any doubt. As we leave about half of Middlests' high school shows up for some reason and we narrowly escape starting rumors.
Then she tells me that before I came in she saw a guy from school and he called her over to talk but she didn't want to, so she said, no you come here and he wouldn't and just said he'd talk to her later.
I panicked for a minute and forgot that they found the aisle after I came in and asked, did he see you in that aisle, no wonder he wouldn't come up.
She looked blank and then laughed, oh, no....we were in the tampon aisle.
Ok,
So I say, Let's get you back to work before my milk goes bad.
Biggest: No, I want to go to your house. Is Dad home?
Me: Yes and what about DecentGuy? He might want something to do with this.
Biggest: He said I should wait but I don't want to. I want to do it now.
Which translates in to: I Want My Mommy.
on the drive home the possibilities start to sink in and I ponder whether it is more appropriate to cry over spoiled milk......or being a Grandma.
We get in and I rush the milk to the Icebox CU and hit super cool while Biggest rushes in to the bathroom.
Then I try to act natural while I talk to my husband. Biggest comes out and I ask, are you feeling alright? No answer. Not even a nod. Her Dad calls her in to the office and shows her something he wants her to read. I keep trying to catch her eye and once when I do she just looks at me and then keeps reading. I'm about to bust a gasket and try to remain calm because she doesn't seem to want her dad to know anything. He just keeps talking and talking and she answers him and avoids my eye until their conversation is finished and silence falls for a moment before he looks at her and asks......
Are you pregnant?
Whereupon she looks up and says, NO!
What's this... ESP?
I'm just checking, he says, you guys never tell me anything.
When we are alone again she asked if it might be too early to tell and I really don't know of course because if she doesn't know the possible time frame how would I? But I tell her I thought it would be too early for the symptoms she was describing if it was too early to show up on a test and maybe she had a virus or just wasn't taking care of herself.
Later, I ask my husband, How did you catch on?
Him: I've only seen that look on your face 3 other times.
The milk wasn't spoiled either.
© 2010 All Rights Reserved
This post was written without any quotation marks because I don't feel like it. I didn't double check my other punctuation either.
My Monday started pretty much as usual except for when the kids told me that morning, Oh by the way we get out early this week because it's the last week of school. I somehow missed this because they haven't done it before and I thought all the important stuff was over so I kind of lost interest and just looked forward to not waking up at 5 am....even though I will anyway.
Middlest informed me she would be out at eleven so I figured, ok, I would get her first then hit the grocery so that I could waste the morning playing on my blog. I then lost track of time until a quarter till when I had to hurry and get dressed to rush out the door. At 11 I texted, leaving. As I was pulling away she sent: you actually have 20 more minutes. Great. I was in the car so I decided to head to the store first. All I needed was a handful of things including milk and a frozen lasagna since I was planning ahead to not feel like cooking dinner.
As I headed in I get a text from Biggest. Please take me to the bank on my lunch hour. She pulls this all the time and usually I say no because she works 2 blocks away from the bank and I'm trying to encourage her to learn how to drive but every now and then I do it just to humor her and visit for a few minutes. I told her it would have to be fast because I would have milk in the car. She said, I wanted to talk to you too. At this moment Middlest starts texting me again about getting a ride from someone else. I say, no because I'm already out and it will kill just enough time in between the store and picking up Biggest. I am wandering through he store stopping every two feet to field texts from both of them and at one point was so distracted I wandered away from the chicken legs even though I meant to buy them, which turned out to be a good thing. Biggest was being cryptic and Middlest was being a pain because they had wasted so much of my time that she was ready and I was still in the store.
I finally head out and get Mid and tell her to text Big and tell her we were on our way and to be ready because I have milk in the car. We pick her up and head to the bank and she says:
I kind of wanted to stop somewhere else too.
What?? I have milk.
She says, I still don't feel good, how long is it usually before you can tell.
Digress to the conversation and question I had asked her a couple days ago when she said:
I don't know what's wrong with me. I've felt nauseated all week and all I want to do is eat tomatoes. And I'm so tired all I can do is sleep.
Yeah, that question, to which I got the reply
I don't know.
So I asked it again and got the same answer, so I asked....
Have you been being careful?
You don't need to know if I'm being careful.
To which I replied, I guess we are going to the drug store. But make it fast, I have milk.
And Middlest asked, what are you talking about?
No answer, to which she replied, Oh.... you guys suck at keeping secrets.
So we pull up at the drug store and I say I'm staying in the car to wait, I guess because I thought I could keep the milk colder that way or something, I don't really know. Biggest starts to whine that she wants me to come in and when I won't she starts a tug of war with Middlest to which I say:
No, someone she knows will end up seeing you and think it's for her and we will end up with rumors. But she persisted until I remembered my milk and told Middlest to just go.
Let's stop a moment to ponder that Biggest is not only married she is going to be 23 years old next week.........Ok, let's go...
I sat there for about 3 minutes and then decided I was bored and would go in.
I also knew what was going to happen next.
And yes, as I traveled down the aisles I followed the sound of the giggling and then heard, oh wait, I hear mom ( I carry a big noisy key chain and pretty much sound like Santa coming) and came around the corner to find Biggest taking her phone away from her ear because she was calling me,
Which was what I knew was going to going to happen next.
She then asked, Where do they keep them?
I looked at her and said, How would I know I haven't been pregnant in 15 years.
They were standing in the tampon aisle. Yeah, wrong aisle ladies.
So we proceeded to look until we found: The pregnancy tests.....behind locked glass.
Apparently they are a hot commodity. I had no idea.
We then have a 5 minute diatribe from Biggest about how stupid that is.
So I tell her, hey, I have milk.
So we stand around and she dithers until I tell her which one to get.
Then she asks, Who opens the case?
Me: Ask at the pharmacy. 2 yards away.
Biggest: You ask.
Me: No.
Goes on several more minutes before she turns to Middlest and says: You ask.
To which Mid and I both firmly
Biggest: I don't want to ask at the pharmacy, should I ask at the front?
Me: I don't care who, just ask someone, I Have Milk!!
So she goes to the front. Middlest and I stand there for a few moments before we look at each other and remember where we are standing and run to the end of the aisle to gawk in fascination at a canned tea display.
Middlest says, Tea will work. Tea, yes, that is safe and looks innocent enough.
Biggest comes back saying. I can't believe this. Half my clients are in here today. They're everywhere. I don't want anyone to see me. Please go ask..
Me: Um, No.
Middlest? No Way.
Me: I have milk.
She goes to the front and comes back and says "I have to ask at the back."
She heads to the back and Finally someone comes to open it while she turns red and points.
Then Biggest quickly scouts for her clients and all 3 of us head to the counter while she pays for it making sure to noisily spill her change and turn even more red and call plenty of attention to the three of us standing at the counter with one item. Middlest and I making sure to hang back in case there is any doubt. As we leave about half of Middlests' high school shows up for some reason and we narrowly escape starting rumors.
Then she tells me that before I came in she saw a guy from school and he called her over to talk but she didn't want to, so she said, no you come here and he wouldn't and just said he'd talk to her later.
I panicked for a minute and forgot that they found the aisle after I came in and asked, did he see you in that aisle, no wonder he wouldn't come up.
She looked blank and then laughed, oh, no....we were in the tampon aisle.
Ok,
So I say, Let's get you back to work before my milk goes bad.
Biggest: No, I want to go to your house. Is Dad home?
Me: Yes and what about DecentGuy? He might want something to do with this.
Biggest: He said I should wait but I don't want to. I want to do it now.
Which translates in to: I Want My Mommy.
on the drive home the possibilities start to sink in and I ponder whether it is more appropriate to cry over spoiled milk......or being a Grandma.
We get in and I rush the milk to the Icebox CU and hit super cool while Biggest rushes in to the bathroom.
Then I try to act natural while I talk to my husband. Biggest comes out and I ask, are you feeling alright? No answer. Not even a nod. Her Dad calls her in to the office and shows her something he wants her to read. I keep trying to catch her eye and once when I do she just looks at me and then keeps reading. I'm about to bust a gasket and try to remain calm because she doesn't seem to want her dad to know anything. He just keeps talking and talking and she answers him and avoids my eye until their conversation is finished and silence falls for a moment before he looks at her and asks......
Are you pregnant?
Whereupon she looks up and says, NO!
What's this... ESP?
I'm just checking, he says, you guys never tell me anything.
When we are alone again she asked if it might be too early to tell and I really don't know of course because if she doesn't know the possible time frame how would I? But I tell her I thought it would be too early for the symptoms she was describing if it was too early to show up on a test and maybe she had a virus or just wasn't taking care of herself.
Later, I ask my husband, How did you catch on?
Him: I've only seen that look on your face 3 other times.
The milk wasn't spoiled either.
© 2010 All Rights Reserved
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
THIS IS A G RATED BLOG- MOVE ON!
EDITED! I changed the name of this post to get rid of creepers. It may still come up in creeper searches but hopefully they will MOVE ON! This IS NOT what you are looking for.
Last weekend we went bra shopping. Something I don't look forward to with the girls. They never make it easy. We headed straight to the juniors section. It was easy to spot with the multi-colored hyperactive selection of patterns. Littlest did a look over of one display and moved on to the next where another teen was happily picking through the colorful collection of stripes, polka dots and plaid, holding one up for her Mom and remarking, "This one is cute." Littlest stationed herself directly next to this young lady. She perused the display with a slump postured, world weary air and loudly announced.
Middlest was seriously thinking of comfort and cute at the same time. She picked several different styles but in the end walked up to me holding three black bra's with some accents that I can only describe as stripperish. "What's up with that I asked," don't you want some colors or at least one basic white?"
I don't like the basic ones they're ugly.
I'm thinking, this should not be an issue for you.
All the colorful ones weren't comfortable and they didn't fit right.
"These look like hooker bras," I tell her.
So... no one's going to see them, she answers.
I'm thinking...no one better be seeing them. She doesn't have gym so I decide I just don't care.
I head back to Littlest who is trying to sneak push up bras past me.
The junior section is full of aided underwear. Why do teens need push up bras? Answer: They don't. I really have a problem with the things that are marketed to young women. It makes me angry that the choices are so limited for young girls who want something cute or pretty but are offered tasteless and trashy. But that doesn't stop the store from stocking them to prey on tired, stressed out mothers. And because the choices are limited, I might be the Queen of Falling Standards but my kids are just wearing me out and I'm starting to not care what they are wearing inside as long as they look decent outside.
Littlest comes out of the dressing room saying, "these work" Two are cute blue ones with a pattern. I ask if she's sure she doesn't want more variety.
No, she hated all of them.
But your striped one has bright colors and it's your favorite.
No, those colors are obnoxious but I like this one.
She holds up the 3rd bra she tried on. It is light blue satin with brown lace. It did not come from the junior department. I check out the cup. It's a cliff in there.
You don't need that.
But it was really comfortable.
So, that is serious push up, you don't need it.
Please......do you want me to try it on again so you can see.....
She knows this is a point because I am wearing out and she is the slowest person on earth in a changing room .
You know what I think, I tell her, how bad was it?
Oh not bad at all....you couldn't even tell."
If I get that and then I see cleavage, it goes, you are in trouble and you are short a bra.
Why can't I have cleavage?
You aren't old enough for cleavage.
That's not fair, Middlest has cleavage.
She can't stop her cleavage, it just happens.
When can I have cleavage?
In two years,.... for now you only wear that with shirts that are cut high.
"Ok". Happy Face, "I promise."
We moved on to clothes because Middlest needed jeans and Littlest worked me for a dress that looked like something from the Mary Tyler Moore show. For someone who can make shopping a miserable experience, Littlest has great style. I finally bought it just because I was so impressed with her fashion sense. .
As we took our turn in line at the busy check out counter Middlest held up the striped black/gray skinny jeans she picked out and showed them to her sister,
When we got home Middlest happily took her things to her room and my husband asked, "did they get everything they need?" Yep, and then it occurs to me.
I forgot that one of my nicknames for Middlest is the bra bunny. She is one of those people that start to fall apart the minute they walk in the door. You can tell where she has been by following the trail of books, paper, socks, shoes, jackets, and yes.....bras. She inherited the compulsion to take off her bra & get more comfortable through genetics from my Mom. Except my Mom usually would do it on the couch at the end of the day. Middlest does it wherever she happens to be. I have found them hid in the office, on the stairs, on the couch, behind the couch, the dining room and even the kitchen. I once opened the pantry door & found one on the shelf, No Joke!
I occasionally hang them from the ceiling fan or light fixtures just to get her attention and hope she will stop leaving them around. Even threats that one of her friends or boyfriend might come over and stumble upon one has no effect. She is my child that took all her clothes off at any opportunity when she was little, so I guess she is the one that is happiest when her spirit..... and boobs, are free.
However, I had forgotten about this when she said it didn't matter because no one would see them. TheSurfer will flee the room if he even senses someone is going to talk about boobs. Sometimes Littlest does it on purpose just to see him run. I don't know how I'm going to explain it when he goes to sit on the couch and it looks like an Emo Stripper has been hanging out at our house.
Oh well, at least I've gotten that out of the way for awhile and the girls are happy. Things are pretty rushed and hectic around here before school but this morning I fleetingly noticed Littlest looked very pretty. She is getting more grown up every day and sometimes it hits me with surprise that she is going to be 15 this year. Every time I look at her it seems something has changed. This morning as she jumped out of the car and reached back for her bag I realized what it was.
© 2010 All Rights Reserved
Last weekend we went bra shopping. Something I don't look forward to with the girls. They never make it easy. We headed straight to the juniors section. It was easy to spot with the multi-colored hyperactive selection of patterns. Littlest did a look over of one display and moved on to the next where another teen was happily picking through the colorful collection of stripes, polka dots and plaid, holding one up for her Mom and remarking, "This one is cute." Littlest stationed herself directly next to this young lady. She perused the display with a slump postured, world weary air and loudly announced.
"These make me want to vomit.......blood."The mother and daughter did the usual reaction to Littlest and froze momentarily, blinked twice and the girl set the bra she was holding down and kind of looked around like she was confused about where she was. That was when I wandered off to pretend I didn't know her.
Middlest was seriously thinking of comfort and cute at the same time. She picked several different styles but in the end walked up to me holding three black bra's with some accents that I can only describe as stripperish. "What's up with that I asked," don't you want some colors or at least one basic white?"
I don't like the basic ones they're ugly.
I'm thinking, this should not be an issue for you.
All the colorful ones weren't comfortable and they didn't fit right.
"These look like hooker bras," I tell her.
So... no one's going to see them, she answers.
I'm thinking...no one better be seeing them. She doesn't have gym so I decide I just don't care.
I head back to Littlest who is trying to sneak push up bras past me.
The junior section is full of aided underwear. Why do teens need push up bras? Answer: They don't. I really have a problem with the things that are marketed to young women. It makes me angry that the choices are so limited for young girls who want something cute or pretty but are offered tasteless and trashy. But that doesn't stop the store from stocking them to prey on tired, stressed out mothers. And because the choices are limited, I might be the Queen of Falling Standards but my kids are just wearing me out and I'm starting to not care what they are wearing inside as long as they look decent outside.
Littlest comes out of the dressing room saying, "these work" Two are cute blue ones with a pattern. I ask if she's sure she doesn't want more variety.
No, she hated all of them.
But your striped one has bright colors and it's your favorite.
No, those colors are obnoxious but I like this one.
She holds up the 3rd bra she tried on. It is light blue satin with brown lace. It did not come from the junior department. I check out the cup. It's a cliff in there.
You don't need that.
But it was really comfortable.
So, that is serious push up, you don't need it.
Please......do you want me to try it on again so you can see.....
She knows this is a point because I am wearing out and she is the slowest person on earth in a changing room .
You know what I think, I tell her, how bad was it?
Oh not bad at all....you couldn't even tell."
If I get that and then I see cleavage, it goes, you are in trouble and you are short a bra.
Why can't I have cleavage?
You aren't old enough for cleavage.
That's not fair, Middlest has cleavage.
She can't stop her cleavage, it just happens.
When can I have cleavage?
In two years,.... for now you only wear that with shirts that are cut high.
"Ok". Happy Face, "I promise."
We moved on to clothes because Middlest needed jeans and Littlest worked me for a dress that looked like something from the Mary Tyler Moore show. For someone who can make shopping a miserable experience, Littlest has great style. I finally bought it just because I was so impressed with her fashion sense. .
As we took our turn in line at the busy check out counter Middlest held up the striped black/gray skinny jeans she picked out and showed them to her sister,
look, I got Emo kid pants....but I love them.Littlest eyed the counter and remarked,
what's up with all the black bras, are your boobs going Emo too?Yeah, couldn't escape from that one, I had to pay for the stuff.
When we got home Middlest happily took her things to her room and my husband asked, "did they get everything they need?" Yep, and then it occurs to me.
I forgot that one of my nicknames for Middlest is the bra bunny. She is one of those people that start to fall apart the minute they walk in the door. You can tell where she has been by following the trail of books, paper, socks, shoes, jackets, and yes.....bras. She inherited the compulsion to take off her bra & get more comfortable through genetics from my Mom. Except my Mom usually would do it on the couch at the end of the day. Middlest does it wherever she happens to be. I have found them hid in the office, on the stairs, on the couch, behind the couch, the dining room and even the kitchen. I once opened the pantry door & found one on the shelf, No Joke!
I occasionally hang them from the ceiling fan or light fixtures just to get her attention and hope she will stop leaving them around. Even threats that one of her friends or boyfriend might come over and stumble upon one has no effect. She is my child that took all her clothes off at any opportunity when she was little, so I guess she is the one that is happiest when her spirit..... and boobs, are free.
However, I had forgotten about this when she said it didn't matter because no one would see them. TheSurfer will flee the room if he even senses someone is going to talk about boobs. Sometimes Littlest does it on purpose just to see him run. I don't know how I'm going to explain it when he goes to sit on the couch and it looks like an Emo Stripper has been hanging out at our house.
Oh well, at least I've gotten that out of the way for awhile and the girls are happy. Things are pretty rushed and hectic around here before school but this morning I fleetingly noticed Littlest looked very pretty. She is getting more grown up every day and sometimes it hits me with surprise that she is going to be 15 this year. Every time I look at her it seems something has changed. This morning as she jumped out of the car and reached back for her bag I realized what it was.
The Cleavage..
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