Buying and bargains

I usually shy away from huge bargain stores. They overwhelm and exhaust me.
After coming home repeatedly with soap shaped like seashells and packs of odd-colored pantyhose, I vowed never to set foot in one again. But Kidsignments is different. It's a huge, bi-annual bargain sale of gently used second-hand items — everything for babies, children and expectant moms — housed in two exhibit buildings at the Gwinnett Fairgrounds.
The savings are so incredible, I put aside my fear of random purchases and decide to go shopping. There's only one of me, so I forgo the building with yard toys and larger items in favor of the one containing clothes, toys, furniture and books.
With two 23-month-old girls at home, I know spending less on clothes means having more money for essentials like diapers and baby wipes. Clara and Margaret are growing so fast, it seems that yesterday's cuffed pants are today's capris, so why spend a fortune on new?
Toting my trusty laundry basket, I head to the rack for 3T and 4T. So many clothes are jammed together, I could use an electric knife to part them. Another set of hands would be useful, and I again regret not inviting a friend to accompany me.
As my girls have gotten older, the clothes have become, well, not as cute. Which is good, from a financial standpoint.
Instead of cute, some of the clothes I manage to extract from the rack seem almost commercial. Comic book characters, Disney folks, Winnie-the-Pooh and other faces familiar to children on their way to becoming tiny consumers.
The simpler clothes are sandwiched between froufrou velour dresses and elaborate appliquéd sweaters with designer labels. One outfit has a white blouse with a Peter Pan collar and embroidery on the sleeves under a corduroy jumper with matching designs on the hem. It sells for $23, which is pricey when other items are going for $3. In a store, of course, this combo would go for twice that amount.
There are enough Halloween costumes to disguise a first-grade classroom — princesses, lions, Power Rangers, witches. Halloween seems far away, and our girls too little to understand it. I pass over the costumes and decide to peruse winter coats. A patient volunteer directs me to the correct rack. It's stuffed with jackets of all sorts and seems to run from Lawrenceville to Snellville.
After one touch of wool, I recoil. It feels hot. Winter? Who can look at a fleece pullover or a down coat when it's 100 degrees outside? Much less Santa-themed clothes and snow suits? Some veteran shoppers can do it, but I head instead to the Land of 10,000 Strollers.
People who haven't looked at strollers lately might be surprised to know banks have loans specifically for buying today's high-tech stroller. Made of alloys straight from NASA, with shocks more durable than those in most off-road pickups, these tiny vehicles can carry baby astronauts safely around the moon.
Or can carry any baby, toddler or skinny child across virtually any terrain on Earth. For $500 to $1,000, you can park a upscale baby transportation system next to your sedan.
Until today, the double baby running stroller was an item we had decided to forgo in favor of starting a college fund. A good one can cost anywhere from $400 to $700. But there it was, in perfect condition, for $85, a side-by-side stroller with the big wheels capable of negotiating any broken sidewalk, sandy beach or pothole.
I decided to buy the stroller. A friendly volunteer took it away and put a sold sign on it.
Checking out took more time than selecting the merchandise. But it was an interesting way to spend half an hour. The line inches by boxes filled with books of all kinds, puzzles, videos, toys and more books, so there is plenty to keep you occupied. And it's just fun to see other women filling laundry baskets and trashcans with things that will, I hope, continue to delight and entertain other children.
The exit process means letting one volunteer cut off the computerized tags on your items, waiting in another line and then making your way to those who tally up the bill. Today, I've gathered enough clothes to outfit two 2-year-olds for the next six to eight months, have found a few books to read to them and landed a fancy vehicle to cart them around, all for about $150.
And I make it out of the building with no seashell-shaped soap.