High Maintenance.

There was a time when the only circumstance under which you'd find me in a shop with baskets of plush toys and brightly colored cardboard books was because I had a client whose kiddo was having a hard time with their move, and I was seeking some goodies for a care package.

No, the shops I frequented at that time were of a slightly more grown-up variety. The kind where if a woman entered with her 2 year-old, she received immediate and constant attention. The retailers would nod at one another and slyly follow her around at a 10-foot distance to ascertain whether her child was going to be a bull in their china shop. They were full of pretty, shiny things. Glass and silver, newly polished and openly displayed. Silky collections of clothes and gobs of fabulous shoes.

Since a year ago when Emily began walking, the only circumstance under which you'll find me at one of those pretty, shiny stores is with my 2 year-old strapped in (tightly) to a stroller with plenty of snacks. For instance, I lost my sunglasses less than a month before we went to Hawaii this past May. Just days before our trip I sucked it up: I packed up the stroller with what had to be a pound of goldfish (a sure thing in our house), dried cranberries, water, a powdered juice packet, and the promise of a treat if we survived the excursion. We headed to the sunglass store at Nords where I made sure the attendant overheard my pep talk with Emily about our special treat afterward if she sat in her stroller while Mommy shopped, and went for it. All of a sudden I knew exactly what I wanted, was able to recall in great detail exactly what my lost glasses looked like, and 5 pairs later I was done. I had never found a pair of sunglasses so fast in my life. Not exactly the slow, 'let's try something new and exotic' (before we go back to the same old thing), type of sunglass shopping I had done in the past, but successful nonetheless.

Last week a girlfriend of mine who is roughly 9 months ahead of us kid-wise sent me a text I'll not soon forget: "Wanna do a kid-swap next week?" Seriously, as much as I loved her before, the woman is a genius. A freaking genius. For a week I daydreamed and formulated my plan.

THE RULES:
1. Starbucks.
2. Thou shalt not plan anything that can be done [properly] with a 2 year old.
3. If it isn't raining, you will be outside.
4. If it is raining, you will be outside.
5. Thou shalt enter stores with pretty, shiny things, and look back and smile when no one is following you.

So I decided on the only place I could think of that was Amanda-friendly and kid-unfriendly. NW 23rd. If you're familiar with this part of Portland, it requires no explanation. 23rd is a wonderful street of shops and historic homes in the Alphabet District of Northwest Portland, between Burnside and Northrup. There is a Starbucks at one end, Restoration Hardware in-between, and dozens of boutiques along the way. About the only part Emily would enjoy is the bumps in the sidewalk from the old, shady trees.

As romantic as it sounds, I realized why being a stay-at-home-mom is far more affordable than I originally thought it would be. If you don't enter Pottery Barn, you don't buy anything at Pottery Barn. If you aren't invited to view the new bath collection upstairs at Williams Sonoma [A dream, by the way. I'm totally moving in.], you can't buy anything you suddenly can't survive without. I had snatched a great street-side parking spot just a few storefronts down...which came in handy as I had the need to carry my bags to the car after leaving each shop.

In my defense, I texted David as I was spending all his money. He didn't reply, come to think of it, until hours later...but he did come home last night. So I suppose I can toss the receipts, right?