New Shoes, The Rest of The Story

Before buying new shoes for Josiah, I debated whether or not to have my dad mail a pair or to actually look for a local pair. I cannot bargain well enough to get a low price on kids stuff and good quality products are not always easy to find. In the end, Jared and I decided to take the kids to the high-end department store in our city and see what we could find. They had a pretty good selection of shoes in Josiah's size and style we were looking for. The hard part was actually buying them. The salespeople were much more interested in touching, talking about, and looking at our kids, rather than actually selling shoes. I don't blame them, it is not everyday three little kids come to their floor, much less three foreign kids. We ended up having to choose a pair of shoes that were on display, and they only had one shoe of each style sitting out. (Either they didn't have any shoes in the back to bring out or they were only interested in selling what was on the shelf.) This meant we had a to find a pair we liked and was in the exact size he needed, right there on the shelf. No prices were marked so it was up to us and the seller to decide on a price. After a half hour of going back and forth, and prying the salespeople away from our kids, we decided on a pair we were all happy with (especially Josiah).
The next day, my househelper and I took all three kids to a 'baby' store near our house to look for shoes for Jacob and Emma. I had already gone to the store earlier, on my own, and scoped out a few pairs I thought would work. We all walked in, I found spots for Josiah and Jacob to sit down while I talked with the saleslady about what shoes I wanted to try. I quickly discovered that some shoes they had multiple sizes in and others they did not, which greatly narrowed my choices. I quickly chose and kids tried on. In the meantime, my househelper took Josiah to the bathroom, Jacob spent much of the time crying because the saleslady and my helper kept trying to pick him up and he just wanted to sit on the stool, and Emma was clinging to me because the others wanted to hold her too. I decided on a pair of sandals, that my househelper decided were too expensive and so while she was arguing over the price I was working to occupy kids. Finally I firmly made a decision on purchasing them, whatever the price. I then announced my decision regarding Emma's shoes, which caused another ruckus. Neither the saleslady nor my househelper agreed saying that Emma's feet would be too hot in them. Rather than arguing my reasoning, I just continued to repeat my decision, kindly, and we made our way to the desk to pay and exited the store. I left excited with our successful purchases, kids had obeyed well, and all were happy...except my helper. She was flustered and overwhelmed by the entire experience. She kept saying that the kids must be really tired because they had cried so much and what trouble it all was. She also was concerned with my shoe purchases. I couldn't help but reflect on the experience. In this culture kids are definitely thought of, and treated differently than in the U.S. Not only do I have three kids in a one kid culture, but I also have such different expectations of my kids. We stand out horribly too, because of how we look and there are more than three of us. How do we find our spot, fit in, yet not fit in? I cannot necessarily do everything the exact same as my neighbors, yet at the same time I need to do many things the same in order to show love and not offend them. As a family we seem to be daily asking and reflecting on the actions we observe and the responses to our own actions.