We are on a Staycation this week at a beachhouse in town...I will update as often as I can. In the meantime....
Too Much Information originally posted on www.myrtlebeachmoms.com May 2009
Have you ever gone to the lingerie department with two kids? It is an adventure in INFORMATION. Namely, too much and not enough.
“Mom, those aren’t underwear.” the eight year old says staring at a table of barely-there panties and the mannequin wearing them. “What do you mean?” I ask while trying to keep an eye on the five year old who has crawled under the table of said panties. “Because they don’t cover the whole bottom!” I turn and look and she is using her hands to cover the exposed cheeks of the mannequin.
I try not to laugh and tell them to follow me to the next narrow aisle. “Why would someone wear that?” asks the eight year old. “What?” I ask while watching the five year old touch everything and swing hangers of panties side to side. I instruct the five year old to make potato hands (the best thing ever in a situation where you don’t want touching, interlocked fingers can‘t touch) and turn to the question-asker.
“This one. It’s see-through!” I look and she is staring at a red, lacey, sheer, bra-like contraption. “Uhhh, I don’t know. Because it’s pretty?” I reply. “But people would see everything.” she wonders aloud. “No, your shirt would cover everything.” I scramble to say.
Let’s move on, shall we?
Because this department and most other things my kids see in public, can be TOO MUCH INFORMATION for their young minds. So as a parent you must scramble to answer their questions with just ENOUGH information. If you give TOO LITTLE, more questions, possibly harder ones, will follow. It is a delicate balance explaining the world and why people do things the way do with how much a five/eight year old needs to know. I apparently hadn’t had enough yet, so we headed to the dressing rooms.
Taking two children, one that talks very loudly at all times, into a dressing room to try things on is not for the modest or weak of heart. Children may ask loudly why you have wrinkles, marks, dimples, moles. Why do you put that on that way? Isn’t that uncomfortable squeezing you right there? Can they try that on?
Not that any of those were said to me. But I may have said “ssssssshhhhh” a lot. In fact I think I heard some snickers from the ladies in the other stalls. I will take comfort in the fact that those ladies were probably moms. They weren’t laughing at us, merely remembering their own children and the roller coaster ride of being a mom.