I didn’t know I didn’t know that!

First shop

C’s mom is having a birthday next week, yesterday we shopped. contrary to the norm, yet entirely consistent with our relationship, I adore shopping while C displays all the signs of having a severe allergy; getting hot, bothered and very angry in lightly crowded stores and storming out after adopting an empty hands policy is a regular occurrence. After eight years together I am well trained in avoidance of such a situation, by following a few simple rules I am keep C calm, and my life easier:

1. Feed the wife before shopping
2. Shop early to avoid crowds
3. Do not loiter in shops – in and out with ultimate decisiveness
4. If she starts to lag/overheat depart without delay.
5. Beware hot stores.

To survive marriage the husband must learn very quickly the subjective handling of his own specimen, thus one rule overrides all others:

• Just say yes, do what it takes.

I took a swerve on the actual shop yesterday, driving her into Birmingham and depositing myself in a Bullring coffee shop in an attempt to wait out the severe headache I had been cultivating all morning.  When she is buying for specific reasons she is the Psion of retail efficiency, selecting items and purchasing with the minimum of fuss; I did not sit alone long before she returned fully laden with birthday presents for both her mom and former bridesmaid. Me, I would have liked to browse, deliberate, um, ah and revisit everything I had seen before deciding if I even want to take the plunge, the long game is so much more fun.  We struggle to shop together, but love the long lunches, indulging in picky, sharing food i.e. tapas and cicchetti are one of our favourite past times; I’m a boring drinking buddy these days.

As a last stop, something I didn’t want to miss, we made our firs trip to one of Bimrinham’s jumbo baby stores, an exciting first as expectant parents. Within thirty seconds of darkening the gaping threshold we had been propositioned by two, excitable, grinning sales staff: they could sense the pregnant lady, we were in for a tough time. We ambled around the shop, wide eyed with wonder, unable to separate the essentials from the spare-parts. I have very expensive tastes and only buy expensive quality items. Be it clothing, furniture, jewellery, technology, holidays, across the board, I believe you get what you pay for, and indulge in only the finest. Baby stuff is expensive, with much of it used for only a very short time. Dived on again by an assistant, we batted them away with increasing annoyance, relieved at the lowered frequency when compared to other wanderers: I have a theory that the frequency of attack is related to bump size; pity the poor mother with only one week to go. Meandering, cooing and aahing like a pair of children lost in a museum; the more I took in the more I knew I didn’t know. Ignorance in this case is not bliss, I have so much to learn: sterilising bottles, changing nappies, sleeping, feeding and the big mystery: prams and pushchairs, there’s so many to choose from. My only knowledge is I quite fancy a three-wheeler with off-road wheels, for all that off-roading babies do obviously; and because they look cool.