Retail Therapy . . . Or Not

Every few weeks, I hand off the Cubby bedtime duties to A. and run away after I put Charlie to bed around 6 p.m. I don't run very far--just to the Small City. And I certainly don't do anything very exciting. My usual reason for going (other than to get the hell out of the house without any kids in tow, which is of course the real reason) is to buy some item of necessary clothing for the children.

This is why I was shopping for underwear, socks, and shoes last night. None of which were for me. And all of which are quite shockingly expensive if you're used to buying everything at the low prices charged for thrift store clothing. But I draw the line at buying used underwear, socks, and shoes for my kids, so I hand over my credit card with a silent whimper for the new stuff.

I also always stop at the grocery store on my way home, which is kind of thrilling. I miss going to the grocery store. A. usually goes for me since he's in the Small City almost every day for work anyway. He's very good about buying everything I put on the list, but when I go, I always remember things I might forget to put on a list, or things that we don't need right now but are three-for-one, or something.

I also always stop for ice cream on the way out there. Because I'm all about the wild personal indulgence.

It's not exactly a week at the spa or something, but it is a break from parenting. And really, a break of any kind is all I need sometimes.