When Motherhood Isn't Like the Gilmore Girls

When Motherhood Isn't Like the Gilmore Girls

I just went clothes shopping with my two year old. To those of you without kids, this probably sounds like it’s the dullest writing topic imaginable. Those of you with kids on the otherhand, are probably wondering if I’ve lost my mind.

Well, yes, quite possibly. I needed an outfit for a wedding, and the two year old needed a cardigan for the same wedding. So, as I lay in bed last night, I thought we could go shopping together today. Y’know, have a nice mother-daughter shopping trip like I do with my mum. Except my mum is not a fast runner, and rarely tantrums, but I did not detect the seriousness of these differences last night. I thought we would browse the shops together, stopping to look at clothes, and gossiping about our lives. LIKE THE GILMORE GIRLS. My last thought before my insomnia-ridden brain finally switched off last night was ‘maybe we could even get a steamed soya milk somewhere on the way home’.

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