I hate going to Kohl’s. Don’t get me wrong - the high quality goods and wares and the low prices combined with the ubiquitous 20-30-40 percent off additional sale price savings are alluring.
Once, I purchased a blouse that was originally $18.99 on sale, but due to a small tear in the seam was marked down by $9.00. It was on a rack marked LUDICROUSLY SUPER SAVINGS! A MILLION PERCENT OFF ORIGINAL SALE PRICE!!!!!
Ok, maybe it was actually 80 percent. But by my calculations (20% of $18.99 minus $9.00) Kohl’s owed me $5.20. For some reason, the clerk didn’t agree. Whatever, I’m still waiting for my cheque to arrive in the mail any day now.
No, the reason I hate Kohl’s is because of their damn shopping buggies. You see, my oldest can walk, but insists on riding. My youngest cannot walk, and refuses to ride. Had I the power of Thrud, Norse goddess of strength, I could not push a buggy with one seat while holding the baby. Thus, I must face the doom that is the double seat stroller. This never ends well.
Unlike a regular shopping cart, Kohl’s buggies have the kids facing forward one behind the other. This is fine with the toddler, but absolutely unacceptable to the baby.
Now, my husband will only wear jeans from Kohl’s and his pants had become so worn that I was afraid he’d be mistaken for a pauper, get locked up in debtor’s prison, and we would not see him again unless we immediately paid off the $180,000 in student loans we incurred in an effort to be smart.
Note to self: Spending $180,00 to obtain official papers saying you’re smart may indeed not be smart. YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG.
I was forced to go to Kohl’s. And because we live 3 states away from any reliable babysitter I resigned to taking the kids with me.
The minute I put the baby in the buggy seat, she screamed as if I had ripped her out toenails out with pliers then dipped her in a tub of hot oil. And took her nuk away to boot. TREMBLE BEFORE THE HORROR OF THE KOHL’S SHOPPING BUGGY!
I put the toddler in the next seat. She immediately began screaming because the baby was screaming. Oh, my tenderhearted one! Still, she steadfastly refused to walk, so off I traversed to menswear pushing my two inconsolable children in front of me.
Soon, I began to garner attention of other shoppers, some sympathetic, some annoyed. Shushing the children was as effective as teaching a chicken to read, so I grinned and beared it. Actually, I smiled maniacally and ignored them until the shopping was complete.
It reminded me of the time the toddler climbed too high on the jungle gym and had to be rescued. Though I safely returned her to land, I attempted to jump off the third step and fell flat on my face in front of the other mothers.
Or the time in college I was walking home from class, and stopped on the highest hill to take in the scenery of the fresh spring day. Then I slipped down the hill becoming covered in mud and grass and scraping my elbows and face. Subsequently I was forced to walk home to my downtown apartment looking like I had a close encounter with a mud-wrestling bear.
So when is it OK to pretend like everything is A-OK when it is clearly not? Shopping with screaming kids, sure. Falling down, why not so long as no exposed bones are involved. Depression, not so much. I learned that the hard way. I existed like that for way too long.
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