Fun at the mall

I am exhausted. Exhausted really doesn’t cover the full range of my tiredness. You see, I took the kids to the mall today. Oh, I know, I know! What was I doing in the mall?! I have a defective shopping gene and merely being in the vicinity of a shopping mall turns my stomach. But Amy’s grown out of her jeans and Michael’s growing out of everything and Rebecca had to go because she can’t be left home alone yet. So off to the mall we went.

I had a return to make at Macy’s and at this particular mall, Macy’s is at one end and all the stores Michael and Amy want to go to were clear on the other side. I was lamenting the fact that we’d have to go through the whole mall to get over to Old Navy when Michael, ever the optimist, chimed in with, “Oh that’s okay – we can see more stuff that way!”

I made my returns and we began our trek through the harsh lands of the Lansing Mall. We navigated around the kiosks in the middle of the walkway and finally made it to Aeropostal, Michael and Amy’s store of choice. I know this will sound silly, but I was unprepared to see them fit in anything that wasn’t purchased in the children’s section. (Michael’s been wearing men’s sizes for a while, but I’m still shocked when he puts on something I know would be too big for Sean.) Aeropostal just seemed like the kind of store for teenagers or college kids, not my kids. But Amy found two pair of jeans that fit and Michael walked out with a pair of shorts and a shirt, all emblazoned with “Aero.”

We went to Old Navy, Barnes and Noble and got a snack of pretzels. We were wrapping up our shopping trip with another pass through Aeropostal when I saw primary colors smilling at me from across the hall. And I realized I didn’t want to be buying big girl and big boy clothes; I wanted to be at Gymboree, the store with primary colors and adorable clothes that all match. I want to buy cute dresses and tights and matching hair bows. I want to buy corduroy pants that go with a cute polo shirt with clowns on it and get the matching socks and belt. When we shopped at Gymboree I never had to ask, “Do those pants show your butt crack?”

The fact that none of my children fits into anything at Gymboree wasn’t an issue; there are times it’s best not to let facts get in the way of a good pity party.

I loaded my ducks (and Aeropostal bags) into the car and drove home wondering how the heck I went from being the sole arbiter of clothing choices to simply being the lady with the debit card?

Please don’t misunderstand: I want my children to grow up, be independent, have their own ideas. Even so, there are times it is hard to be the mommy of growing children. Today was one of those days.

I think I need a nap.