Why My Boys Make Me Lose The Plot When I Hit The Shops
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Some people get a buzz from going to the gym or sweating it out on a ridiculously long run. My buzz comes from shopping. From wandering around boutiques and trying on clothes that I mostly can only dream about buying. That’s when I get time to relax, to think, to just be.
I actually get ’Whoop!-Whoop!’ bursts of excitement when I enter a boutique and see a row of Chinti & Parker or try on a gorgeous top that doesn’t – like most of mine do – have rips in the armpits or dried baked bean marks all down it. (Yes, I shop online, but it’s not the
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same as touch-and-feel-the-fabric kind of shopping.) So every January, when all the ’Save 50% on cashmere!’ emails ping in my inbox, I get itchy must-get-to-the-shops feet.
There is a catch with post-Christmas sales though: they happen at the end of the school holiday. When your little mites have lost all interest in their heap of plastic that Santa so kindly gave them. When they are about to throttle each other with an all-walking, all-dancing dinosaur (another stocking gem). When they are driving you round the bend and you’re about to lose your
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mind. And this year, the only day I had to hit the sales was one when I had my two boys (both under the age of six) in tow.
Now, ask my boys what they love doing and they will tell you that walking round a garage looking at classic cars is absolutely awesome. (And my husband will too.) Ask my boys if they like shopping and their faces will drop. So you can imagine what our afternoon at the sales was like…
On our way to the shop they whined. My youngest had an almighty strop and played one of those ’I feel sick!’ tricks. My eldest stopped rigid
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in the street, refusing to budge. My littlest then clung to a lamppost and caused a huge ’That mother is not fit for purpose so let’s stare at her!’ scene. They dragged their feet along the pavement and screamed ’I want hot chocolate!’ as we passed their favourite café. Once in the shop they ran into rails of cream cashmere and freshly steamed silk dresses. I spent the entire time saying ’Boys, please!’ whilst the shopkeeper arched her perfectly plucked, disapproving eyebrows.
At one point we were all hiding out in the changing room – where
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the boys could happily crawl around on all fours like the feral beings that they are – without said shopkeeper looking on (disapproving eyebrows and all).
Needless to say, trying on my choice of clothes was a hellish experience – think two boys in stupid hysterics at seeing Mummy in her undies (even though they’ve seen it all before) and doing crazy dancing in front of the mirror. Not to mention the full-on wrestling going on beneath my feet and the tears that inevitably followed…
At that point I’d had enough and had to leave – much to the
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shopkeeper’s delight. But on my way out, a half-price-but-still-stupidly-expensive leather jacket caught my eye. And, thinking that I could always get a refund if it wasn’t right, I ended up buying it – after all, the whole changing-room shenanigans had left me feeling that I deserved a treat.
Back home I tried the jacket on. It didn’t fit and made me look like a try-hard-biker-chick-gone-very-wrong. Checking I had the receipt to get my money back I saw written on the back: ‘Items can be exchanged in store. We do not offer refunds.’
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Great.
‘Dreadful shopping experience with kids in tow’ over, I’m determined to hit the sales on my own next time without two terrors causing chaos and distracting me at every turn…
The boys like walking around car garages. That’s fine, Daddy can take them – he likes doing that too. And me? Well, I’m quite happy walking around the shops. All by myself.
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Site Default - 13 Jan 17
Some people get a buzz from going to the gym or sweating it out on a ridiculously long run. My buzz comes from shopping. From wandering around boutiques and trying on clothes that I mostly can only dream about buying. That’s when I get time to relax, to think, to just be.
I actually get ‘Whoop!-Whoop!’ bursts of excitement when I enter a boutique and see a row of Chinti & Parker or try on a gorgeous top that doesn’t – like most of mine do – have rips in the armpits or dried baked bean marks all down it. (Yes, I shop online, but it’s not the same as touch-and-feel-the-fabric kind of shopping.) So every January, when all the ‘Save 50% on cashmere!’ emails ping in my inbox, I get itchy must-get-to-the-shops feet.
There is a catch with post-Christmas sales though: they happen at the end of the school holiday. When your little mites have lost all interest in their heap of plastic that Santa so kindly gave them. When they are about to throttle each other with an all-walking, all-dancing dinosaur (another stocking gem). When they are driving you round the bend and you’re about to lose your mind. And this year, the only day I had to hit the sales was one when I had my two boys (both under the age of six) in tow.
Now, ask my boys what they love doing and they will tell you that walking round a garage looking at classic cars is absolutely awesome. (And my husband will too.) Ask my boys if they like shopping and their faces will drop. So you can imagine what our afternoon at the sales was like…
On our way to the shop they whined. My youngest had an almighty strop and played one of those ‘I feel sick!’ tricks. My eldest stopped rigid in the street, refusing to budge. My littlest then clung to a lamppost and caused a huge ‘That mother is not fit for purpose so let’s stare at her!’ scene. They dragged their feet along the pavement and screamed ‘I want hot chocolate!’ as we passed their favourite café. Once in the shop they ran into rails of cream cashmere and freshly steamed silk dresses. I spent the entire time saying ‘Boys, please!’ whilst the shopkeeper arched her perfectly plucked, disapproving eyebrows.
At one point we were all hiding out in the changing room – where the boys could happily crawl around on all fours like the feral beings that they are – without said shopkeeper looking on (disapproving eyebrows and all).
Needless to say, trying on my choice of clothes was a hellish experience – think two boys in stupid hysterics at seeing Mummy in her undies (even though they’ve seen it all before) and doing crazy dancing in front of the mirror. Not to mention the full-on wrestling going on beneath my feet and the tears that inevitably followed…
At that point I’d had enough and had to leave – much to the shopkeeper’s delight. But on my way out, a half-price-but-still-stupidly-expensive leather jacket caught my eye. And, thinking that I could always get a refund if it wasn’t right, I ended up buying it – after all, the whole changing-room shenanigans had left me feeling that I deserved a treat.
Back home I tried the jacket on. It didn’t fit and made me look like a try-hard-biker-chick-gone-very-wrong. Checking I had the receipt to get my money back I saw written on the back: ‘Items can be exchanged in store. We do not offer refunds.’ Great.
‘Dreadful shopping experience with kids in tow’ over, I’m determined to hit the sales on my own next time without two terrors causing chaos and distracting me at every turn…
The boys like walking around car garages. That’s fine, Daddy can take them – he likes doing that too. And me? Well, I’m quite happy walking around the shops. All by myself.
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Fiona Pennell lives in the Cotswolds with her husband and their two boys, Jack, 6, and Otto, 4. A former YOU magazine sub-editor, Fiona now spends her days being trampled on, going on slug hunts and dreaming of lie-ins. (Twitter: @fiona_pennell)