On Shopping With My Children

We took Justin to the airport yesterday afternoon. He is spending a few days in Boise, doing heaven knows what with his little friends.

I took advantage of the proximity to San Jose airport to the nearest H&M and Pinkberry, both located at Santana Row in Santa Clara.

Here are a few thoughts from the afternoon:

I probably should be more upset that Borders is closing stores. I should probably have some philosophical reaction to the deeper meaning and implications. But really, I'm not and I don't. I have a Kindle and all of the books at Borders were 20% off.

Not many people at Santana Row at 4 p.m. on a Thursday have 3 kids with them. In fact, I was the only one. And several people looked surprised to see that I did.

H&M is not a store to shop in while alone with the above-mentioned quantity of children. Also, on the 5-star stroller-friendliness scale, this H&M rates about 1.5 stars. (This does not, in any way, detract from my enjoyment of H&M's products, merely my shopping experience and my sanity.)

Pinkberry is so yummy, it gives me goosebumps. Also, whoever invented the new Blood Orange flavor should be given a highly prestigious medal or award or honorary degree. Or the Nobel Prize.

Not only would I like to live at Anthropologie and drape myself in piles of their clothing, but the very air inside an Anthropologie store smells the way I hope it smells in heaven.

The Container Store is a dangerous place to take unrestrained Greers. And the lady at the Container Store, while looking quite grandmotherly, (which one would think would make her alive to the hazards and attention span of a mother with small children in a store full of things to touch) was extremely and overly helpful, and painfully obtuse. In her defense, I did make the mistake of telling her what I was looking for, rather than continuing through the store to look on my own. Because when I did get away from her, I found exactly what I wanted, and for $3.99 no less.

*Note to Container Store Lady: It is more important to me that my children are beating each other with your store's neon pink and orange plastic kid chairs than that you have found me the perfect container for my knitting needles. (Which, incidentally was not remotely what I was looking for.) So please stop trying to sell me the absolute wrong thing and allow me to discipline my children with the exaggerated patience of restrained fury before they lay waste to your store.

A convenient restroom makes everyone a little easier to handle.