The other day at Target, the girls and I did their back-to-school shopping. On the list? New backpacks for both girls.
Kallan quickly collects all of the smaller items on her list and then announces she would like to buy a ball with her own money. She runs off to select the perfect bouncy ball from one of those large steel cages that hold hundreds of balls. From all the way across the store, I can see the rejected balls rolling and bouncing in the aisles as she tries to free the perfect ball.
And Maj stays with me to look at the backpacks.
“I think I want one of those messenger bags this year.”
“OK.”
“Or maybe not, because then all of the weight is on my one shoulder. And I’m not sure I could fit my lunch bag in here. So maybe a regular backpack.”
“OK.”
“But it has to be the perfect backpack.”
“OK.”
“Mother? Stop helping me. How am I supposed to think if you keep interrupting?”
“Seriously, Maj?”
She pulls down a bright blue backpack, “OK, so this one is nice, but it just has one big compartment. I need two big compartments so my lunch doesn’t sit next to my folders.”
“Mmm hmmm.”
She puts it back and selects another, “OK, so not that one. This one has two compartments, but then it has weird extra zippers in the front. So not this one.”
She reaches for another one, “This one is good, but I don’t like the color.”
And this one? Has pull-strings where there should not be pull-strings.
And this one? Is too boyish looking.
Kallan reappears to hand me a lavender colored ball and to announce she is headed over to the shoe department to try on shoes.
Maj is still working through the backpacks. I sit down on the tiled floor and start emailing people on my iPhone.
This one? Has the manufacturer’s label too prominently displayed.
And this one? Has foreign words printed on it that she is afraid are inappropriate.
And this one? Has wheels. No wheels for Maj.
And this one? Is too difficult to tighten.
And this one? Has characters on it and is far too babyish.
Kallan reappears with shoes and several purses. She models them all for me, but has money to buy none of these items.
Maj again, “How am I supposed to think in the middle of a fashion show? Tell her to stop getting in my brain, Mother. I can’t think.”
Kallan heads off to return the shoes and the purse and to see if she can find a magazine she claims I promised to buy for her.
Maj is all thoughtful . . . this one? Is too girly.
And this one? Does not call to her.
And this one? Makes her look short.
And this one? Has stars in a weird shade of green that make her think of snot.
And this one? A girl she hates at school had this backpack last year.
And this one? Is too flimsy.
And this one? Makes her look like she’s going on a hiking trip.
And this one? Is maybe the one.
Wait, what?
I hurry to compliment this last bag, “Oh, I like that one, Maj! It’s perfect! The right color. The correct number of compartments and nice zippers. The right size and shape and brand. It’s perfect. It’s you!”
Maj is pleased and twirls around, trying to get a sense of how she will look as she walks into school next Tuesday to start the new year. I walk with her to a nearby mirror and watch as she checks herself out. She seems pleased.
Yay!
But on the way back to the backpack display? She is plunged into doubt.
“I just don’t know if this backpack is calling to me, Mother.”
“It’s perfect, Maj.”
“You say that. But I’m not sure.”
She takes it off and stares at it testily, “I want a backpack that exceeds all of my expectations. I do not feel as though my expectations are being exceeded here, Mother.”
Sigh.
“It’s your call, babe. I want you to be happy with your choice.”
Maj is quiet for a moment and then, “Is there any chance you will take me somewhere else to look for backpacks in the next few days?”
“Sure. If that’s what you want to do.”
“Because I am thinking this is not my perfect backpack.”
“OK, then. Put it down. No problem.”
She puts it down.
Kallan reappears, “Did Maj choose a backpack yet?”
I start rolling our cart down the aisle, “Nope. She’s going to wait and shop somewhere else.”
Kallan grabs the cart to stop me, “Wait! I still need a backpack. Which one did Maj almost choose?”
Maj points to the blue and green backpack that, in the end, did not exceed her expectations.
Kallan dances over to it, picks up the backpack, throws it in the cart, “I like it. I’ll buy that one.”
Fuck.
I turn to Maj, “Are you OK with that? Last chance, Maj. If you want this backpack, you can buy it. But if you don’t want it? I’m going to let Kallan get it. Your call.”
Maj is all crabby, “Let her get it. I told you I don’t want it, Mother.”
Since that day?
I have taken Maj to four other stores.
And she does not yet have a backpack.
Turns out?
Kallan has the backpack Maj wants.
And the bitterness of that realization?
Exceeds all of Maj’s expectations.
Sigh.
5 stores for back packs and 6 for zip up binders, equally as important!
Snort!
Umm, remember the part where you said, “I have mentioned before that I am not good with acronyms.”
In a few months I will tell you the story of Hub getting fired for saying (and this is a direct quote) “Consider the acronym.” In a meeting, at work, to a vice president.
Yes it is a funny story.
Or it will be once the union gets it straightened out and his job back. Bless the unions.
I hope you do not think that I will forget your promise to tell me this story.
Because I will not forget.
And I will pester you.
What’s funny about this? Is that I was not nearly this, um, particular about things when I was young. But now? That it is my money? And after I have packed an entire household & moved it like 8 times in the last 11 years? I have become *very* particular about things like handbags.
I want my stuff divided in such a way where everything is easy to find, it doesn’t fall out, & the important stuff doesn’t disappear into the morass that is the big pocket of my purse.
I am totally with Maj on the single compartment thing. I will not buy a purse that is just a handle with a big pit for all my shit to disappear into. They are cute. But I would hate them.
You sound all sensible!
And so very very much like Maj.
Hee hee!
ok, when you are the hundred-tooth commenter, you have to skip all the other comments and get your thoughts out first, and then go back and read the comments. those are the rules.
what i love the best? “tell her to stop getting in my brain, mother.” that is gonna be my new line. so many occasions to use that one. brilliant Maj!
and also? i have to go buy a new purse. my purse, which i love and purchased from a street vendor in NYC last year, is perfect but the strap is now hanging by a thread. and i am SO MUCH LIKE MAJ about this. i cannot even bear the thought of shopping for a new one. maybe Maj and i could shop together? maybe we should both get our bags on ebay. less pressure that way.
honestly, i’m all stressed out about this. what to do??
Yes, well . . .
Half of these comments are me getting in the last word, so if I could just learn to keep my mouth shut?
You wouldn’t have to read so much.
My apologies. Hee hee!
Maj hates internet shopping, as she likes to feel the perfection in her hands.
You are both doomed.
I am just like Maj when it comes to buying clothes, accessories AND BACKPACKS!
I so like to hear tales of Majs who have grown up and stopped berating their mothers for their failings.
You have stopped, right?
ha. this is EXACTLY how shopping goes with my kids.
Sigh.
So lovely to know we are not alone in our craziness.
So lovely.
I am all dying over here.
“And this one? Makes her look short.”
Wiping tears.
Poor Maj.
Imagine?
Something dares to make her look short?
This?
Is all your fault Mom.
snorting again – can’t seem to stop
I love that you noticed that!
Yes, that one made me laugh as well.
Inside, though.
I kept my laughter hidden.
Because otherwise?
There would have been a short burst of murderous mayhem in Target.
News at 11:00.
Snort!
That sucks.Dont you wish both of them were so easy going.
I have one flowerchild and one anal one.
I LOVE them both, but life with the flowerchild is soooo much easier.
Might I suggest you look on line. We find the best shit there. Very rarely go into stores anymore.
It would be simpler if both of my children agreed on things.
If they were more alike.
But my life?
Would be a lot less interesting.
And as I have mentioned in these comments?
On-line is no good.
Maj must feel the perfection.
Hahaha, sometimes I’m sad Noah is an only child that may never experience this kind of joy. My whole adolescence is full of just such memories. :)
Kallan and Maj are all kinds of lucky.
Hee hee!
i still have…and use…the same backpack I got in 9th grade. I used it all through high school and college and beyond. I have an 18 year old backpack because NO OTHER BACKPACK is as perfect.
Have you met Ben?
He is somewhere in these comments with a tale of his own perfect backpack.
You and Ben?
Have much in common.
So, in the end, you MUST post what backpack meets her requirements, maybe even photos of this two compartment, appropriately zippered, will not make the wearer look too short backpack. Becuase I want to file it away for the future. I? Have two girls, and all too soon it will be my turn and toddler princcess themed backpacks from payless will NOT make the grade. And when that time comes? I have GOT to be prepared. I’m about half-a-Maj when it comes to shopping perfection I figure the odds are good that I’ll have a Maj-ish one myself. (I think I just made Maj into a verb. Not sure if that’s a good thing?)
So far?
No backpack has met with her approval.
Today is Friday.
School starts on Tuesday.
Sigh.
“How am I supposed to think in the middle of a fashion show? Tell her to stop getting in my brain, Mother. I can’t think.”
I love this line. I am going to make a tinfoil, head & brain protective helmut for Brenda…to help keep out the chatter that sometimes is too overwhelming. Maybe I should make one for Maj, so when she has to make a crucial decision…such as choosing a backpack…all Kallan chatter will be filtered and she can think.
And now?
I am left with an image of Maj in a tinfoil hat as she shops.
Yes, that would be fabulous idea.
All normal.
Snort!
As if I’m going to look normal?
Seriously?
Snort.
Hee hee!
Plus also?
Snort!
LOL that is hysterical. I don’t have that kind of patience. I go shopping without them and tell them it was the only one left so there was no choice.
Oh, that would not do here.
At all.
For some items, yes.
But for a magical purchase?
And this backpack holds magic for Maj.
No.
Holy. Crap.
I am anal, but I am no where near being that anal. I’m guessing it’s going to take her a few years to pick out a college. Better start now.
Sigh.
Heavy sighs.
And now, she’s learned an important lesson in shopping.
Sadly?
This is not the first time she has learned this particular lesson.
I am hopeful one of these times?
It will stick.