Mwah ha ha ha.
In case you didn’t get that – that was an evil laugh. Think Bond villain type thing. I would also like you to mentally add in an image of me rubbing my hands together in evil glee. (perhaps whilst stroking a fluffy white cat and spinning round slowly on an evil chair, if visuals are your thing. Just don’t envisage the chair that I use for work though – it’s woefully slow at spinning and gets stuck on the carpet, which would totally ruin the effect.)
Anyway. The reason behind this bout of bad gleefulness? The motivation behind my (pitiful) impersonation of a B movie bad guy?
I went….wait for it….
No, I’m building this one up. You’ll have to be more patient than that, I’m afraid.
Yes! Yes, I know! I actually went shopping and I (deep breaths here, otherwise I really do run the risk of hyperventilating with excitement) bought some clothes. Oh my word. It’s a miracle. A bona fide miracle.
Of course, I am very well aware that, to most of the population, that seems like a bit of an anti-climax. The way I’d built it up at the beginning, I can tell you were probably thinking I was going to admit to murdering someone, weren’t you. Or at least something vaguely criminal. However, for those fellow mummies out there, particularly those with small children, you are probably at this moment smiling wrily and nodding your head. You know what I’m talking about, you ladies, don’t you. I will just share the joke with our childless friends.
When you have children, you invariably sign a mental document, acknowledging that you will no longer be able to do certain things. One of those, of course, is get blind drunk and stagger home at 3 in the morning, singing the theme of ‘Cabaret’ and doing jazz hands. (ahem, that wasn’t drawn from experience at all. Nope. No siree.) But we’re all prepared for that. Part and parcel of having kids. See also, not being able to consume unhealthy food from the hours of 6am to 7pm, for fear of being caught by one’s offspring and then forced to share with them (not to mention not have a leg to stand on when you next argue with them about the benefits of eating healthily. Grrr.) See also, not being able to watch what you want to watch on TV anymore, but instead having to sit through mind numbingly tedious children’s programmes.
However, one that is slightly less predictable is not being able to go shopping. And here is the big wake up call...it’s nothing to do with not having money. You can have all the wealth in the world, but you still won’t be able to successfully shop. Let me tell you why.
1) Your toddler will have a tantrum while you are looking at clothes. Guaranteed.
2) Your baby will suddenly get very cross at not being pushed in the buggy anymore and start to scream. Loudly.
3) Your toddler will decide to run away. Again, this is a given.
4) You will end up getting an item of clothing caught on one of those random hooky bits on your buggy and you will end up yanking the item off the hanger and then virtually bringing down an entire display and feeling really quite embarrassed.(this happens to me every time! Do they design buggies just with the intention of getting them caught on bits of clothing?)
5) You will end up also accidentally running your buggy over the aforementioned clothes (now on the floor) and it will naturally be when your wheels are dirty. The shame.
6) If you even make it as far as the changing room, you will have sod all chance of actually changing into the clothes, as your toddler will ensure that it doesn’t happen by repeatedly pulling open the curtain and drawing attention to your near nudity by laughing loudly.
Then of course, if you are one of the fortunate few who manages to make it to the ‘purchasing’ stage, you then have the impossible task of balancing bags of shopping (as inevitably, you will also be carrying coats and raincovers under the buggy, parcels to be posted in a grubby cloth bag hanging off one side of the handle and groceries on the other side) and pushing the whole bloody thing home again.
But I was determined today. By god, I was. It was the sales, and I honestly haven’t been shopping in YEARS. My wardrobe had given up the ghost of being trendy back in the late 1990’s. It was time to get serious about it.
And why the Machiavellian hand rubbing, I hear you ask? He heh. OH went to a gig last weekend, to see The Stone Roses. I discovered he spent close to £200. Did I make a fuss? You BET I DID. Hence the clamp down on the account was momentarily lifted, and I went off to spend spend spend! (well, £50. But still. It was fun.)
And we had a few more orders today, which is always cause for a celebration. Even though we’re not actually at the ‘drawing a salary’ stage yet with Pip’s Garden, it still kind of felt like I’d just cancelled out the £50 by making £50. Ha ha! (this wasn’t the case at all. This is what men like to call ‘female logic’ I think. Sexists.)