It is every parents nightmare. Perhaps nightmare is too strong a word. Shall we go with bankbusting horrorfest? Yes, lets. Not one but two small ones suddenly spurt upwards and all those lovingly selected wardrobe items that once made them look like Jo-Jo-Mama models now make them look like tiny Frankensteins. It is freaky the speed with which those limbs extend, maybe it is all the reaching for the choccy in the top cupboard, surely biology alone can't be responsible?
Whether it was the chocolate (rationed I promise) or the mere fact of growing up I had to face facts, toddler boy and baby girl no longer fitted their clothes. Not just one or two items, no nothing so simple as that, every item of clothing from 'big boy pants' to frilly frocks refused to cover the cracks and meet at the seams. In a matter of days I struggled to dress my wee ones in anything that didn't look like I'd stole it from a leprechaun. Urgent action was called for.
In the nick of time a friend spread the word - the skint parents holy grail an N.C.T sale was in the offing. Relief was at hand. Not only was it a chance to update their wardrobes in one fell swoop, but thrown into the bargain was a chance to natter with the ladies and lunch back at the friends where all the small ones could run wild in their too small clothes together. With a glass (or several) of wine for the grown ups what was not to like in that plan?
Bunfights at dawn or 10.30am to be precise. An N.C.T sale is a unique event for the uninitiated. Ordinarily polite mummies let loose their inner hoodie to smash and grab with gay abandon When you see a smile translate as 'get your hands off'. The annointed (read N.C.T members) get first dibs and make merry while us mere mortals queue in desperate anticipation.
But I knew it was going to be a good day. On the way a lost French man was much relieved when I informed him he'd picked one of the few streets left in Brighton with free parking. Spreading the joy is a joyful thing. Surfing the streets on smiles it only get better at the station when a lovely man gave me a free latte because the person he'd made it for changed their mind. Giving a mother of two small ones free coffee is akin to saving them from a fire, especially at 9am on a Sunday morning (lie-in? What is that? A dim memory that's what) and his karma will surely shine.
Even the ticket man on the train was a sweetie, giving toddler boy not one but two 'tickets' for him and the friend he was on the way to visit. And he had a self confessed hangover. Another destined for good karma central methinks.
It was then I decided to go with the flow of the day. I would not engage in a bun fight over a pair of tights. I would not grab and dash and glower to get that top or those pants. No. This N.C.T sale would see a serene me, gliding round the hall, collecting charming items in a leisurely fashion, while like a swan under the calm was a frantic paddling. Totting up, planning ahead and weighing the value. Such fun.
I ended the day £50 down and the wee ones were fully (and funky) wardrobed up. The karma did not fail us and both toddler boy and baby girl can once more leave the house in clothes that fit and will hopefully continue to do so for many months to come. The N.C.T is surely a wonderful thing. And wine with lunch too? What sort of crazy bliss is that?!
Thanks for checking this out...
Ta muchly for visiting. Here you will find musings, ramblings and a few statements of fact. They say women can have it all, motherhood, careers and crazy social lives. But what if we don't want it all? What if we want some of it sometimes and other bits not so often? Here I'll mix and match as the whims and energy levels take me. Your tuppence worth is always welcome!