Playing Defense

With my wife in full on nesting stage, shopping with her can be a like a game of chess.  The mere mentioning of “picking up a few things” triggers a defense mechanism and I become similar to a coach before a big game.  I quickly begin to implement a game plan, devising several simple yet cunning maneuvers that begin long before we enter the store. 

Driving routes, parking, and even choosing a point of entry can be crucial when attempting to withstand the onslaught of promotions, sales, and clearance events that await my susceptible wife as she enters a store.



Before the pregnancy, her penchant for walking into a salesperson’s trap was a manageable expenditure that while I couldn’t always rationalize, was accepted as one of those things I can’t change.  But now--with a list exceeding any and all imaginable baby products of which I never knew existed--stores such as Target and Walmart have become killing fields loaded with landmines and traps bound to snag even the thriftiest of consumers.



This was painfully evident on a recent trip to Plow & Hearth in Charlottesville, Virginia.  We made the trip after my wife found a decorative fireplace grate in their seasonal magazine, (I had failed to intercept this before it found its way into her hands).

We parked and were immediately flanked from all angles as the barrage of stores in the shopping center loomed in the distance.  The first blitz of stores had my wife oohing and ahhing at the mere mention of the brands lurking inside.  But I remained calm as I had one factor firmly on my side, pregnancy. 

“That’s so cute… I wish I could still wear cute clothes.”  My wife exclaimed longingly as she walked by the threatening store which under normal circumstances would have me trembling with fear.

Instead I smiled wisely, feeling confident under the protective shield of maternity.  But I wasn't about to get cocky, I knew what lay in my path. A store with large, expensive items, items set perfectly under dim, cozy lighting designed to give them a homey, warm feel. 

Once inside, I headed straight for the item we came for, which wasn’t in stock and would have to be ordered.  Meanwhile my wife was left alone to perused the store, as the unabated sales persons chatted her up as she wandered ever so far away from the on sale items. I watched helplessly as I spoke with the cashier, cursing under my breath as I had fallen for the old trick play being flawlessly carried out in front of my very eyes.

I snatched my receipt, thanking the lady while refusing to fill out the card for some kind of drawing, I know stalling tactics when I see them lady! I muscled through the crowd in hopes of a goal line stand. But it was too late, I found my wife in the back of the store and heard the words I’ve come to fear: 

“You’ve got to see this.”  I knew what that meant, it means look what we’re buying.

The rest of the trip went according to plan.  We made some bathroom stops, avoided clothing stores, and even made it through a few shops without any damage to the wallet.  I would have been proud of myself; I had stuck to the plan, and--except for one significant lapse--played defense exceptionally well.

The sun was setting as we began our journey home, leaving an amber glow on the mountains in the distance.  My wife turned down the radio as she looked over at me and smiled.

"I think that chair will be perfect for the living room.”

I grinned, nodding my head in agreement before hearing a faint whisper escape my wife’s lips as she turned to the window.  My stupid grin quickly vanished as I realized what exactly I had heard.  It sounded like…..Checkmate.

Shopping...

Over the weekend my wife and I visited family in Williamsburg, Va.  Williamsburg is a beautiful town rich in colonial history and the roots of our country’s beginnings.  It also has a ton of outlet stores.  On the drive up my wife mentioned something about picking up a few things at the maternity store.  Great idea I thought, knowing that I would be sitting on the couch with my uncle watching college football.

The plan fell into place, with my wife shopping with my Aunt and cousin, while my uncle, my cousin’s husband, and I held down the fort.  We flipped from game to game, while I observed my cousin's husband put his two small daughters down for a nap like a seasoned pro.

Later that afternoon as the women arrived with bags in hand, my wife seemed quite pleased with her purchases.  She started small, warming me up with little outfits for the baby, complete with various animals on the butt of the outfit, ducks, raccoons and countless other harmless creatures.  My Aunt had bought little booties and bibs for the baby and I couldn’t help but to smile at these cute little get ups.  My joy was short lived.

She bent down, digging into an industrial strength bag that was stretched to the limit with what looked like enough material to clothe a small village. 

“I bought a few things so I would have something to wear.”  She said, as if she had been getting by wearing a toga.

One after another, she pulled out long, loose fitting shirts that she will eventually grow into. Other sexy items included jeans with large stretchy waistlines and pants with elastic.  It became quickly obvious that buttons were the enemy and comfort at a premium.  I put on a smile, happy that she was happy, but started noticing the price tags dangling from the atrocities she held up.  $39.99 here, $ 29.99 there, and it didn’t stop.  There were purple ones, striped ones, teal, white, more tops!  How much did she spend?  I took a sip of the suddenly medicinal beverage my older and much wiser Uncle had provided.

“How…ahem…How much did this little trip cost?”  I mustered, my voice struggling to find its pitch.

“Oh, I put it on the credit card.  You owe me some money.”   She said smiling.  The new line of thinking is that since I did this to her I am responsible for the fashionable maternity clothes as well.

Back at home, I was treated to a fashion show of every shirt and pair of pants that will become the staples of her wardrobe.  As she strode down the hall I had to admit that she did look quite good, and although I would never have thought it, I'm really starting to like her tummy.  Although I do have a 3:30 appointment at the plasma center in an effort to pay for the new clothes it requires..