G and I took the Cupcake to the new outlets yesterday to go buy her an Easter outfit. Yes, I know Easter is in less than a week. Yes, I know I am already a bad mother. Whatever. I have a kid now, but my life is completely the same as it always was except everything is different -- Mamasita still can't even find her shit, let alone get her shit together.
Anyway. We had a (very) brief debate over whether or not we should get a "Baby's First St. Patrick's Day" outfit -- verdict was no -- but one thing that was never in question was whether or not we would be getting Cupcake a pair of Crocs. "Thou shalt have Crocs" is my new First Commandment of Modern Parenting.
Shopping for your own kid is a very overwhelming experience, especially when you are me and you are the Retail Ninja and you are trying to stick very closely to a budget of $0. Everything is so damned cute -- it's like the people who run Carter's and Gymboree and The Children's Place and Hartstrings are deliberately trying to drive me out of my mind from the adorableness.
And most people who know me know that my particular weakness, the thing that drives me over the edge, is baby socks. I love baby socks. This is probably another one of those things that I need a 12-step program to deal with. Hello, I am rockle, and I am addicted to buying baby socks. Can't help myself -- I am the Human Garanimal, and I need to make sure everything is matchy-match.
But really -- when a kids' feet are so small that their entire shoe fits inside my little hand, with room to spare -- can you blame me for being just a little bit crazy in love?