Kids. Can’t stop them from growing. Can’t stop them from wanting to fuel the economy.

Yesterday, my daughters and I went shopping for summer clothes. The little one complained about her out of style hand-me-downs and her older sister needed under garments. The minute I set foot in Target, I felt like I had entered a hornet’s nest. The girls immediately wigged out in the retail zone.

“Oh, Mommy, buy me this bathing suit!”

“Mom, I need a new rug for my bathroom.”

“Look at this flashlight, Mom. I’m gonna need a new flashlight for camp.”

And so on.

I subtly tried to interest the 13-year old in thirty per cent off mix and match bathing suits, but when that didn’t work, I emphasized how a twenty dollars savings could be better spent elsewhere. She would have none of it, insisting on a new bikini or nothing. Actually tempted to go with nothing until I remembered she had filled out a bit since last summer. Do you have any idea what it feels like to plunk down thirty-five dollars on two strings and four patches of colored spandex?

I also had to relent on the flashlight. Every summer, each child gets a bright shining portable for summer camp. Somehow, they disappear. Nobody knows where they go. Oh, they come home in the suitcases all right, and get dutifully packed away for the following summer. But when the time comes to retrieve them, gone. It’s almost like a sinkhole in the universe gobbles them up to appease the bump in the night gods.

As for the 18-year old and her impulse to buy a new bathroom rug, I put my foot down. Absolutely, positively, infinitesimally, no, no, no, no until the cows came home. We would not be purchasing the happy bumblebee against a green meadow bathroom throw. Besides, what was wrong with the bathroom rug she already owned? You won’t believe her response. It was dirty. You’d think the kid had never heard of a washing machine.

Two hours later, after saying “no” and “no way” so many times I thought my head might explode I managed to drag the girls to the checkout line. There couldn’t have been more than fifteen to twenty items in the cart, yet the total came to almost two hundred dollars!

I suppose I should consider myself lucky, managing to end my ordeal for less than two hundred dollars. But factor in the clothing needs of our son, my husband, and sometimes even myself, plus the children’s need to replace their wardrobe every three to four months and suddenly that two hundred dollars becomes just a drop in the bucket.

We could have shopped at a clothing consignment store. You should see what’s passing for second-hand these days. I could have arranged a cast-off clothing swap with friends. They have same aged children. Yard sales are blooming like gardens. I could have taken the girls on a wardrobe hunting adventure.

Instead, I chose convenience over budget. I’m thankful my husband and I can afford to make that choice every now and then. But with rising inflation and a shrinking dollar, who knows whether periodic retail splurges will continue be an option.

What is everyone else doing to stretch a clothing dollar?