The Pyjama Chronicles…

We had a marvelous dinner on Friday then immediately went out pyjama shopping. I had high hopes for Superstore, apparently too high.

We entered the men’s department and there were the pjs, right in front of us. Jeremy’s scowl deepened.

“I don’t like any of those,” he stated, giving the whole rack a look of disdain.

I felt one and silently agreed. They were a rough textured cotton and fairly stiff. Shrugging, I turned around toward the ladies department.

“Where are we going?” Jeremy asked in confusion.

“The ladies department,” I replied, feeling confused as well. We’d already discussed this. “I, umm, need to look at pyjamas too.”

That set Jeremy right off. He ranted the whole time we were in there about how unfair it was that we’d gone shopping for him but were now shopping for me. I showed him a few pairs of pjs, all of which he disliked, and he continued to rant.

“We never finished looking in the men’s department,” he snapped.

I shrugged again, there wasn’t anything I could see in the ladies department. The pyjamas were also stiff, rough cotton and many were covered in gaudy flowers. Then I turned and went back to the men’s department.

I found another rack of pyjamas which Jeremy intensely disliked…

“They’re plaid Mom!” He almost turned plaid into a swear word.

… and ended up buying him a couple more t-shirts instead. We left the clothing department with Jeremy still complaining about how we’d been mostly shopping for me, even though it was his trip. Finally we reached a section with no customers.

“Jeremy, we talked about this on Thursday,” I said with some exasperation. “I do need a pair of pyjamas but we were mainly in there for you. That’s why I kept asking if you’d seen anything you liked.”

“Oh,” Jeremy said, looking faintly embarrassed. “No, I didn’t see anything.”

“We’re going to Wal-Mart next. If you see anything you like, you can say they’re for me.”

“Or I can say I like them for myself,” he retorted.

“Yes,” I agreed. “That works too.”

The Wal-Mart men’s department was a bust. Like Target, they didn’t actually have a pyjama section, just a handful of t-shirts and boxers. I did find a hanger with three pairs of lounge pants attached. They all were plaid. Jeremy stayed silent, but his expression spoke volumes.

Then we wandered over to the ladies department. I found a long nightie for me to wear on hot summer nights but couldn’t see anything for Jeremy at all.

“I don’t see anything for you,” Jeremy said urgently. This would have worked better if I wasn’t carrying a nightie.

“I’m saying this for me,” he hissed. “I don’t see anything for me.”

“Not even that Duck Dynasty nightie,” I replied cheerfully, pointing to a rack. Jeremy snorted.

The actual successful shopping trip was anticlimactic.

I needed to head out this afternoon and asked Jeremy if he wanted to go shopping. He was busy watching a video and didn’t. I stopped by Target and discovered their ladies nightwear section is huge. Most of the pjs were cotton but I found a pair that were soft and navy blue. I immediately snatched them up.

The best part? They were $16.99 on the rack and rang in at $5.07! I might just pick him up another pair. The only thing that would make them better is if they came in purple.

Radioactive and other random stuff…

I’ve spent the past two weeks organizing a dinner for after work tomorrow. Jeremy’s meeting us there and is thrilled because it’s his favourite restaurant. It’s mine too, as well as several of my coworkers; the food is so addictively good I joke they put crack in it.

Afterward, Jeremy and I are heading to Superstore to buy him at least one new pair of pyjamas. His only pair that are even remotely wearable are the silky pants I gave him. The rest are either way too small or look like the losing end of a fight with a weed whacker. It’s not like I never noticed, I’ve brought him into the pyjama section a couple of times over the past few months and each time he’s barely given them a glance. He wasn’t interested. I don’t think we got close enough to the shelf to riffle through for sizes. We certainly never got anywhere near trying any on.

I figured bringing the shopping trip up in advance might help avoid any surprises and misunderstandings in the store. Jeremy had been horrified when I suggested he get coloured jeans and yelled at me in the middle of Superstore this winter (only to quietly walk back later and pick them up on the way to the cash register). I figured suggesting checking out the women’s pyjama section might get a bit more reaction if it was sprung on him suddenly in public. My ears could not handle more of a reaction.

I got my chance as we were walking across the bare (and quiet) lawn to his counselling appointment.

“We’re going pyjama shopping tomorrow after dinner,” I began and Jeremy nodded.

Phew, I was more than half worried he was going to insist he didn’t want any, holding out for that $50 mail order pair of TARDIS footie pjs from the BBC shop. The sizing is much too vague for mail order.

“I was thinking we’d go to the men’s department first to look and, if they didn’t have anything you liked, we could check out the women’s department. I want to get your idea of what we should do.”

“Pick up a dress, underwear, and makeup,” Jeremy immediately replied. I was reasonably sure he was joking but deadpan humour always confuses me.

“I don’t have the budget for a new wardrobe,” I pointed out. “I’ve got a dress in my closet I never wear that you can have if you want. Does this mean we’ll wing it with shopping tomorrow?”

He agreed that winging it sounded fine and we headed in for his counselling session. What Jeremy doesn’t know is I looked up the pyjamas online. The pair I gave him is from Superstore and they have several similar pairs available, while the men’s department seems to be mainly cotton plaid. I have no idea which Jeremy will prefer. He continually surprises me.

We bounced, laughing, onto the bus after his session and tumbled into our seats.

“Did the driver just call you ma’am?” I asked once we were seated. Jeremy shrugged.

“Yes, he did,” Jeremy informed me as we left; the driver’s “goodbye ma’am oops” trailing along behind us.

“Does getting called ma’am bother you?”

“No,” Jeremy replied.

I don’t know when I’ll have an update on the letter to his teacher that I wrote yesterday. Jeremy accidentally forgot it at home today in his rush to collect his electronics, so it’s still sitting beside the computer.

His electronics consist of speakers (which he took from a broken TV then did something to in order to get them to work), various cords, and his DS (to play music). He took it all with us this evening too and played music the whole time we were outside. Most of the time, he played Radioactive, as sung by Pentatonix and Lindsay Stirling. This wasn’t a surprise; I’m reasonably sure he’s played it at least 200 times since I bought it last month. Best dollar-something I’ve ever spent.

I also promised him I’d share it here because it’s a great song: