Mom Crack

I’m playing Fantasy Football this year. Wait! Don’t click away! You’re still at Deanaland. I still know utter Jack about football. I fully intend to keep knowing utter Jack about football. If football (and most other organized sports, for that matter) disappeared off the face of the earth, I wouldn’t even notice. I’m just going to draft some players at random and see what happens. My team is called the “Desperate Housewives.”

Since moving here in 2006, I’ve noticed (because it’s impossible not to) the consignment-sale trance most women around here are under. I know all these moms at my church who act like their normal, typical selves most of the year. Until one of these sales comes around. Then they begin pulling out clothes. And pricing them. And volunteering at the sale. And shopping. And blocking off the same week on next year’s calendar so they can do it all over again. I’ve managed to bypass all of this so far. I don’t like getting caught up in any kind of hysteria unless it was my idea. Plus I have trouble picturing these consignment sales without conjuring up images of bargain-crazed women smacking each other with their giraffe-print bags to snag a couple of Gymboree outfits. Not unlike the Cabbage Patch Kid insanity of 1984.

Then I went to house church Tuesday night, where my friend Regina handed me a pass to the workers’ half-price sale for the consignment sale that’s currently underway here. So I went to the sale last night. Now, I’m not planning on letting these things take over my life on a regular basis. But last night, I sort of started to get it. These consignment sales are like Mom Crack. I walked into the old CompUSA building in West Little Rock with a handful of other women. The sales are heavy on baby stuff, and that’s where the other moms headed. Leaving me free to check out the size 6 and size 14 girls’ stuff on my own. I got Julia some cool shirts and even a pair of Abercrombie corduroy pants for just a few bucks. (Yes, we boycott Abercrombie like all other decent Christian parents. But these pants were four bucks. I had to make an exception here. It’s easy to boycott something when you can’t afford it anyway.) And I got Jenna a cute Kelly’s Kids Christmas outfit and the FREAKING CUTEST hot pink and black tweed suit. If you see a cute blond kid at my church looking like mini-CoCo Chanel in a few months, that’s my kid.

But then. THEN. I found the mommy clothes. They had clothes for me, too! With all the baby-obsessed mommies a safe distance away in the infant section, I had the mommy clothes all to myself. Including a stunning Mica dress with the tags still on. Tags that said “$160.00.” This dress is now mine. For nine bucks. And for another nine bucks, I scored an Ann Kenar little black dress. I’m getting dizzy again just thinking about it. For a total of $51 bucks (including tax) I got two outfits for Jenna, pants, sweater and two shirts for Julia (three of her things are Abercrombie – which I promise to resume boycotting soon – and Aeropostale) and two FABULOUS dresses for me. I can see why the whole consignment sale thing could get addictive.

So that’s my fun lately. Hey, if I'm going to dabble in Mom Crack, at least I'm going to look good doing it.