Well life as I know it is officially over.

I was out today with Little Fella doing the back to school shopping and after having spent a wad of cash on new this and that, I saw this brilliant box of lip gloss. I know this is not exciting to some but a whole box – at least 10 different shades and types – some wet gloss, some glitter gloss… I think I actually let out a little whimper at the time of spotting it. I have a thing for gloss. I looked in my wallet and to my delight I saw just the right amount of cash left over to get this glorious treat. It was at this very moment that my son let me know that it would mean the world to him to have a pair of ‘cool shoes, you know like the football ones, the ones like I used to have… please mum they would make me look SO cool. I NEVER look cool and I really want to look good when I see my friends… blah blah blah etc and so on’ Needless to say my beautiful box of glosses is still sitting at the shop and my charming boy is out right now playing with his friends in his cool new shoes. I’m still not entirely sure what happened.

Earlier today while we are on the topic of shoes, I headed out with the little guy to go and get new school shoes. We needed tough, durable, throw-a-bomb-and-a-bucket-of-acid-on-them-type-shoes that can outlast a 10 year old boy. I had high expectations. So I went along to the shoe shop where we measured the little feet – not so little anymore as they are now in the big boy sizes – we selected the toughest (and coolest – let’s not forget the cool) most sturdy looking pair that had room for growth and looked to me like they would last a few months at least. Perfect – off to the checkout we go.

“That’ll be ble ble pounds please” says shop lady with big grin. I start to feel a bit light headed.
“I’m sorry what was that?” I ask, hoping to have misheard.
“Ble ble pounds please” says shop lady who is still grinning.
“Ah” I haven’t heard wrong at all.

I am about to launch into a “Are you mad?” and “that’s outrageous” tirade when Mr mini charm offensive himself innocently says “Mum, should we get this SPECIAL shoe polish so I can look after my lovely (yes this was the exact word used) new shoes”

I’m trapped! Surrounded by a million other Wimbledon mothers (seriously you have to see these women… that is a whole other post on it’s own), the shop lady (please remove that inane grin at once lady or I will not be held responsible for my actions) and of course Mr big expectant eyes. I hand over my card and realise at that precise moment that I am spending more on a pair of shoes for my son than I have ever spent on shoes for me.

We went for ice-cream straight afterwards.