Black Friday Highs

Everyone knows I have a shopping problem. But it's not just any shopping problem. I cannot say no to a great deal.

It really comes from childhood, as most abnormalities do. Whenever I went shopping with my mom, if I wanted her to get me something, she would always reply with something like, "Wait until it goes on sale" or "Is it on clearance?"

Those magical red tags really did a number on my psyche. Everything in my life -- our house, my car, the clothes off my back -- was purchased at an incredible deal. I think if I pay full price for anything, I break out in hives.

Buying stuff for this kid on the way has been no exception. When we went into Babies R Us for the first time, we nearly went blind with all the options and everything we would have to pay for. Like strollers, for example. Did you know they were made of gold? I mean, why on earth does a jogging stroller cost $500? Does it do the jogging for you? We played with the scanning gun, pushed some strollers around the store for fun, but we were not sure if we were ready to part with that kind of cash. "I'll just carry the kid everywhere," Matt declared, and for a while, I was ready to, too, so we walked out empty-handed.

Flash-forward to Black Friday/Cyber Monday. I went with my sister-in-law to merely browse the Black Friday sales, and I came home giddy off the fumes of a purchase of one of those fancy Canadian gliders for 50% off. And after the floodgates opened, I couldn't stop myself. For on that gorgeous Cyber Monday, there appeared, shimmering in all its golden glory, the image I would probably hold in my head to get me through the intense pain and hours of labor:

And there, innocently written next to the picture of the BOB revolution, was a price. With a red slash through it. Cue the Hallelujah chorus.

I swear, all I need to be high on life is my American Express card.