The Biweekly “I Need” Run

February 7, 2015 by Jessie Henry 6 Comments

It’s a Saturday with the kids. That always means the same thing; “hey Jessie, I need…” Every other Saturday when we have the kids, I spend the better part of the day running around like crazy for assorted child’s needs. Almost all of which I have been informed of the night before.
This week was nice in that I had a little more of a head’s up on what the kids needed, the oldest needed bras and wanted to use a gift card. Simple enough. The youngest has a concert and needs an outfit. We’ve been talking about this for weeks. She needed an outfit from any decade between the 50’s and the 80’s. I told her to narrow it down a bit. We had this talk several times. We get to the store today, and I asked what decade she wanted to be, and she gave her answer for everything, all the time; “I don’t know”. She doesn’t know what she wants to wear, what she wants to eat, where she wants to go, what she wants to do, but you can bet all of your money, she doesn’t want whatever it is you have planned.
Anyway, I facepalm in the store, and send her off to get some jeans while I collect several decades of outfits. Gah. At the dressing room, I only have her a few things on the hopes of speeding things along, and it did. She can’t have too much to choose from, her brain will overheat and then anything can happen, and it’s never anything good. She got a multi color polka dot skirt and striped sweater, she’s from the 80’s. Because I said so.
We dropped her off and the older two and I went bra shopping. While waiting for the oldest to try her stuff on, the middle child and I sat on little chairs in the dressing room. A man and a woman came in, and the woman insisted it was fine for her husband to try his stuff on in the women’s room. Sure, why not. I’m gonna try out a urinal, I hear it doesn’t matter.
We went to a makeup store so the oldest could use her gift card, and so I could get some makeup that won’t slide off my face 5 times a day. I look around for a few minutes and had a few ideas when a pretty woman with dark hair in a lab coat approached me. She asked in a very soft and polite voice if I needed any help. I said “yes, I’m greasy and I’m old. And when I say greasy, I mean slick!” Not a smile or look of confusion or anything, she was like a guard at Buckingham palace. Without missing a best she said she had just the thing for me. I hope she really did, but I can’t help but think she was only pushing a hot product. I hope I’m wrong, it seems like I got nice stuff, I finally got grown up makeup.
I guess that means I really am old, at least I want lying.