Landmark Purchase

As a young lady, there were many landmark purchases that signaled momentous occasions, or the passing from one stage in life to another.  The first clothes purchase with money earned on your own.  The mortifying trip to your local department store to buy your first bra.  With your mother.  Who smiled the whole time, like she was thinking, "you have no idea what you're getting into."  Of course, there are similar necessity purchases that coincide with a certain time of the month.  Those get easier as time goes on.  Purchases like a wedding dress and clothes for the honeymoon  elicit a bit more excitement and fonder memories to be sure.

As a mom, I've had even more landmark purchases.  My first pack of onesies as I registered for all things baby while I was pregnant with Josh brought tears to my eyes ("will it really be that small?").  Diapers were a drudgery, but the purchase of special undies as that first one made the leap from diapers to boyhood was just as thrilling for me as it was for him.  Of course, the first few copays at the doctor when your little one gets sick, bumps his head or needs shots make their mark in your memory as well.  Soon your kiddos grow. They get into various extracurricular activities and you're quickly on your way to purchasing all manner of sports equipment.  Before you've pumped up the first soccer ball, you notice your garage is being engulfed by all kinds of balls, bikes, trikes and spikes (shoes, that is).  

But my latest purchase is one I did not expect.

I bought Josh's first sport's cup.

I'll assume you all know what I'm talking about. But maybe I shouldn't as my story will soon show.

He needs one for baseball this year.  "It's not required," the Coach said, "but my son will be wearing one."  (read: "If you care whether or not you have grandchildren someday, you better get yourself to the store, momma.")

So I went.  Checked the under.wear aisle with no luck. (I have to preface this to say that it had already been a frustrating morning and wandering around me.ijer looking for a boys' peep protector was not getting me through my list as fast I would like.)  So I got the guts to ask a nearby saleslady for help.  (I can only say that this moment is probably tantamount to a man asking someone where he could locate the tam.pon aisle.)  

She didn't know what I was talking about. 

I tried to describe what a cup was without sounding like a pervert or snickering.  Then she whips out her walkie-talkie.  I began to panic.  Is she calling for help?  Will there be that embarrassing announcement relaying the need for a young boys' althletic supporter?  Will a crowd gather as we all try to figure out where this mystery object is located...until I finally scream, "It's to protect his peep and my future grandchildren!"?

Deep breath.

I further explained that it was for sports.  AHH!  Then we should look in the sports section, she says.  Ok, thanks, I'll be on my way, then.  I walk away.  She follows.  I wasn't sure if she followed out of sheer curiosity, or out of some customer service obligation, but I could have done without the escort.

We found it.  The way it was packaged reminded me of the head of a Transformer.  Maybe Decepticon.  Odd.  But it's a boy's item.  What could I expect?  Anyway, after a brief pause to decided on the size (oh dear) and a gracious "thank you!"  to my fellow cup hunter, I tossed it into the cart and high-tailed it out of there for safer territory.

I headed for the baking aisle.  I needed chocolate.