I'm not a boy, and I've never been a teenage boy, but I've dated a few in my time. And I am pretty sure there is some sort of boy scout badge for being able to release a girl's bra with one hand.
I figured I would give them both an advantage and bring them bra shopping for the first time today after work.
So, we headed off to Target (I'm all couture when it comes to over the shoulder boulder
Really--could I pick a better time? Low blood sugar. Traffic. General dinner time crankiness. 99 degree heat. Can we get me in for a brain scan? Maybe I have subconscious tendencies to inflict pain on myself and anyone within earshot of my children.
Do NOT...I repeat...do NOT go into a craft store at dinner time without anesthetizing your children. It took me about 20 minutes to pick out the 3 skeins of yarn I needed because most of the time before I even got to the yarn aisle, I was ripping spools of thread out of Felix's mouth and preventing Miles from making me take home 7 broken porcelain birds that are used for God knows what kind of craft. And then by the time we finally got to the yarn aisle, within 3 seconds, they both figured out how to unravel a skein, and wrap it around two aisles.
Then--guess how many check out aisles were open? One. But I think that is too generous. Can you have only 1/2 an aisle open? Cuz that is what it felt like. Kudos to grandma who was working the checkout, but she either needed some additional training, or a 5 hour energy drink. Not helping things was that the 1 person in front of me must have been secretly trying to open a savings bank or something, because there was all sorts of back and forth with the cashier and lots of confusion--over a little black picture frame and a jug of marbles.
Finally, we made it out of the potpourri infused tchotchke paradise.
Back to the bras.
We headed to Target, and outside of the "mommy underwear" I told Miles we needed, I also had to get Eric some face wash--a Target basket wasn't even warranted for so little on my shopping list.
But Miles refused to get off of the dirty floor until I picked out the monstrosity of the "kiddie" cart for us to use.
This isn't a Kroger or Publix cart that has a little "car" plastered on the front. This is like an RV of carts, with this ridiculous "seating area" right below the handle bar. I think the entire cart is the length of two carts put together. The poor kids cannot even see anything when they are strapped in, but the "luxury" of being put into seats like that on a cart is enough to make them demand a ride...
...for 5 minutes before Miles determines: "Mommy, it's time to get out and shop. UNDO MY SEATBEALT!"
And Felix: "Walk! Walk! Walk! DOWN!"
So, I abandon the 11,000 foot cart right in the middle of the racerbacks and Playtex extra udder support section. Nobody will notice, right? (I used to get so upset seeing products in stores that were misplaced or left in the wrong area. I always assumed laziness. I mean, c'mon...just take the extra 3 minutes to walk back to the toothpaste aisle and put it back where it belongs and NOT on the shelf next to the Ziploc bags. Now I am pretty certain that a good portion of the guilty are probably mothers who many times just have to leave something where it is because they are involved with a precocious toddler, or 2 in my case.)
When we got to the underwear area, the boys immediately split and went into different directions--Miles toward the briefs, and Felix toward the thongs. (I mean, could they have picked more appropriate areas reflecting their personalities? Extra support versus scandalous.) Felix then started to find and pull down any 44 quadruple D bra and hand it to me--as IF I needed a reminder that my 2 together wouldn't even fill a quarter of the right cup. Miles just preferred to hide under any pair of underwear that fell over his eyes. (Please, always wash your underwear after you purchase it--you never know what toddler has been hiding in it.)
It was like manic shopping. I would have to do a quick scan of the wall of poorly organized bras, and then quickly bolt through the aisles, trying to avoid the monstrous kiddie cart that SOME irresponsible and lazy parent just left in the aisle, and scoop up a toddler and convince him that Mommy was almost done scanning the bra section.
Really, am I that delusional to think a 3 year old and 1.5 year old would just stand and watch me shop for bras? Okay, I have GOT to get in for that brain scan.
Luckily, Felix found the wall of Hanes panties, which all pretty much had belly buttons on them, and decided to point out every package's "bee bees" (ie, belly button). Miles was much more entertained by playing hide and go seek. But by seek, he meant: once you find me, I will run away from you, knocking down the whole Jr's Xhiliration pantie display, and scream loud enough for Target employees to get on their walkie talkies and whisper messages that contain the words like "bad mother", and "demon child".
Best part? Miles asking me in his loudest outdoor voice, "Mommy, you find underwear? You put on that underwear like Daddy? You try on underwear in the store?" (The image of Eric in a bra was priceless at least.)
To which I quickly said out loud, "Um, anyone here own this boy?"
Felix kindly held my purchase all the way to the check out (remember, I abandoned the space craft in the intimates area). There is nothing like seeing a little toddler drag his mother's bra on Target's floor. If it's good enough for Miles to throw a tantrum on, I guess it's good enough for my bra.
This all reminds me of one of my oldest friends, Dan H. In high school, he told me that his mother would make him go to CVS and buy her tampons.
You got to start somewhere in the path to humiliation...I think I now have good footing.
And a new dirty bra.