Yesterday, R and I decided to stop at the outlet mall that is conveniently (or not) positioned halfway on our drive home from the lake house.
Since we spend most weekends up there in the summer, I anticipate much money lost this summer (just like the last) to the likes of Hanna Andersson, Gymboree, Carter's and the Children's Place outlets, all of which make their home in this mall.
Since yesterday was Easter, only Carter's was open. As much as I adore Hanna Andersson (it is by far my favorite children's store) and think their quality is superior to much of anything else, I also loathe their prices. Even at the outlet, it is easy to spend $150 and only have two outfits to show for it. While that would be a fabulous deal on, say, Paper, Denim and Cloth jeans for me, it is not such a good deal on two outfits my daughter will outgrow in two months.
This is why I heart Carter's. Their prices are so low and they make cute, non-Bratz-esque clothing for little ones that is decent quality and always soft and comfortable. The problem with Carter's is that they are usually mobbed. But on Easter? Not so much. We had the whole store to ourselves, a fact of which we took full advantage.
While Sam and R played with the kid's toys in the play area, I perused the boy's clothing. Last Fri, a very generous friend dropped off what amounts to an entire 3-6 month wardrobe full of boy clothing. This got me excited and I was now ready to start buying some cute little newborn boy clothes. The problem? I was bored senseless.
This was a very strange feeling. Sure, there were some cute things, but without ballerinas or bunnies or pink to keep my attention, I was stifling yawns as I picked through the pastel blues and greens and yellows. Finally, R asked to take over since he could sense the strong possibility that I might fall asleep while browsing.
I took care of Sam (who, incidentally can now tell me with an earnest look on her face that she has a "poo-poo mommy." I am very excited about this and am busy calling various talk shows to see if this makes me 14-month-old a genius and if they want to book her). R browsed. I have never seen a person, especially my husband, so excited to shop. It was the same fervor I have for the tutu with rose petals someone gave to Samara last year (not to mention the polka dotted trendy dress she will wear to Mar's graduation, the sweet sundresses and the flowing Bonpoint dress she will wear this summer--all gifts, of course....) Sam's clothes are very exciting to me, especially now that my own are mostly maternity. I inventory them in my head, plan which events require which outfit and regularly take stock of what accessories she needs to match each outfit. To my shock and amazement, I believe R will take that same pride in dressing our boy.
"Look at these little polo shirts," he explained, practically frothing at the mouth. "And these striped rugby shirt onesies?? How cute are these?" I felt like I was with my best girlfriend, only she was much taller and sweatier and I (usually) do not bear her children.
After shopping merrily for 45 minutes, we settled on a pack of newborn onesies, a Halloween sleeper that says "Mummy's little friend," a Halloween bib that says "Daddy's little monster," a black cat hat and a couple things for Sam. I swear this is some kind of record for my husband who is usually bored before we even walk in the door of a boutique. By minute five, he is feigning a stomachache, looking for lingerie tags with risque photos or trying to hang himself in the dressing room.
Instead, we had one of the more exciting shopping trips I have ever taken with my husband. He had enthusiasm! Stamina! For shopping?!!!
Who knew that all it takes is a tiny little penis growing inside me to get my husband to go this direction? Now, I just need to find a way to get him to enjoy jean shopping with me next year.