The Little Mermaid
There was a time when I could spend hours, days, even entire vacations, shopping for myself. I could make lists and lists of things without which my life would be incomplete: sweaters, boots, scarves, sunglasses, CDs, coasters, cheese trays, duvet covers, coffee-table books, earrings, scented candles. And each of these items had to be exactly right: the skirt that hit the spot on my thigh to the most flattering effect, the jeans that flared to just the right proportion so I could wear them with either boots or flats.
In other words, I was self-involved and materialistic. I was single without a child.
I was reminded of those glorious days last night when I spent several hours of my post-work evening shopping online for warm-weather clothing for my two-year-old daughter for a beach vacation we’ll be taking at the end of the month.
Since she has outgrown everything she wore only a few months ago, the lists I now make are for things she’ll need: a bathing suit with built-in SPF 40; water shoes to protect her delicate toes when she walks in the ocean; a floating raft with a canopy so she can join us in the pool and be protected from harmful rays; a beach cover up with an assortment of insanely cute beach appropriate clothing (usual suspects www.oldnavy.com and www.gap.com, as well as one of my new favorites www.comfykids.com).
The organic sunscreen and DEET-free bug spray I’ll pick up at my local Whole Foods. I will then spend hours packing for her, and a few minutes shoving my belongings into a bag, including a several-years-old bathing suit that I fasten with a safety pin. But I have no illusions. No matter how well dressed I might be, she’ll be the one drawing the appreciative smiles and stares when we hit the beach .
CHECK BACK SOON FOR DAY 2 UPDATES FROM THE BANG CAMARO PHOTOSHOOT