Breaking a Mallrat

I won't deny it. I love shopping. Growing up, it was fun to go on weekly trips to the mall with my mom and sister. We'd follow mom around and watch her peruse things, get an Orange Julius (basically, an orange creamsicle in a cup, which, now that I think back to it, is a pretty gross drink that only existed in the 80's). When I was old enough, I'd go off with my sister or friends and do my own browsing. Shopping is still the first thing my sister and I do together whenever we see each other. And it's not always about buying stuff - mostly, it's about spending time together without the boys, sharing our opinions about the latest trends, and delighting in the joy of a good sale. When I'm alone, it's more about just getting out, people watching, and being part of a crowd.

I've frequently taken Elisa to stores and malls to get out of the house on my days home. But now that she can walk, she won't stand for being in the stroller while we're inside a store. The other day, we were at Baby Gap just browsing. When she started whining to get out of the stroller, I figured it was a safe place to do so since there were lots of little ones around. I lifted her out and she gleefully proceeded to walk up and down the racks that were lowest to the ground, stopping to take a closer look at certain items, and taking things off the rack that she thought should go home with her. There was something very grown-up about the way that she was walking around the store proudly, not listening to my calls for her to come closer to me, her eyes glued to the items on the racks and shelves. Then it dawned on me - she was mimicking the way that I shop! She defiantly protested when I tried to prevent her from throwing a display of pants onto the ground. As I attempted to put her back into the stroller, she began kicking her feet and making high-pitched hyena noises. I knew we had to make our exit as soon as possible. So I promptly picked her up with one hand, put that stroller into gear with another, and zipped out and back into the mall, giving an apologetic smile to the salesperson who had greeted us and cooed over Elisa. I lowered my eyes when she raised an eyebrow at my flailing-limbed toddler.

It's probably not great parenting on my part to expect her to be able to sit through me dawdling around a store. But more so than that, I'm not sure that I want her to grow up with shopping being one of her central hobbies. Sometimes I wonder why buying stuff can be so exhilarating. I guess my dad's lectures on saving never really kicked in. Instead, I remember the mall as our happy place where the power of decision and the orange creamsicle in a cup put me into a blind trance of rabid consumerism. I guess I justify my father's teachings by being a proud bargain hunter and a Targetholic. So why is the feeling of finding a good deal such a rush? Is this the hunting and gathering of my culture, the desire to shop akin to my primordial instincts of foraging for fruits and berries, its very act central to my survival? Is this something that I really want to pass down to my daughter? And of course, wouldn't I save more money if I hadn't bought anything in the first place?

But that's no fun.

The jury's still out on this one. But for awhile, I will probably skip shopping in favor of more wholesome activities like the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. It is free to children and their caregivers, and is a great, wide open space good for lots of walking, running, and dawdling. There are a few outdoor exhibits that Elisa just loved when we went today. And we had no major episodes, just lots of exploring and smiles.

Elisa's kimono dress is by Tea Collection. It was a gift, I swear...