TGIF! Amiright!?
I don’t know about you, but my week has drug on long and hard. Last night we spent up every two hours with a very upset toddler. We never figured out the culprit, but I did wake up to butterfly kisses on my cheek. Not gonna lie, I loved it.
Justin is still on his work trip, and so Lew and I are dealing accordingly.
Yesterday, I had to get out of the apartment. I’ve been cooped up for what felt like years, and I just needed to be in a store.
You know that feeling? Just needing to be around complete strangers in the hustle and bustle of their routines. Picking up errands, lackadaisically waiting in line for their ridiculous Starbucks creation, yelling at their children to stick by their sides.. that’s the kind of atmosphere I mean.
We were having some work done in our place, anyway. It was the perfect time to get out and about.
We started at the mall. And four hours later we finished.
Ever get mother’s guilt? The kind where you can’t justify spending money on yourself, or in my case do justify spending money on yourself and then completely regret swiping that card. I was having TERRIBLE guilt yesterday. I found perfect scenarios to why I needed certain items, but as soon as I got to the cash wrap, my fingers got all clammy as I reached for my card.
Of course most of these items came from a certain Target stop. I mean seriously, I had just spent a dollar shy of $80 on Lewi at the stop before, but I was remorseful of the $25 espadrille flats in my shopping cart. Why do I do this to myself? Regardless of my guilt, I swiped my card and journeyed home.
As soon as I got home, I proceeded with my after purchase rituals that include: placing all my purchases on my bed, trying everything on (again), and arranging three outfits/picking three occasions I could wear each piece with/to. After checking all these steps off my list, I then look at myself in the mirror and ask if I really need this item. If I feel confident in saying, “yes” the item is hung-up or put away in its new respectable home. If I can’t seem to find the confidence in saying, “yes” it gets put back in its bag with receipt in hand and placed on our kitchen breakfast bar, so I am reminded to take it back the next day.
There are three bags on my breakfast bar this morning. This is not due to the mother’s guilt alone, it’s just that I don’t love those pieces. If I didn’t have this ritual after every shopping trip, I would have a million things I’d never wear. What’s the point in that? Save your money for something you actually want!
Does that hat really fit your head? Do those shoes really feel comfortable? Is that romper really flattering?
Ever find yourself asking these questions? Ever experience “mother’s guilt”? Let me know in the comments!
xo, Tay
