I have such a jumble of thoughts in my head right now, it’s hard to know where to start. DH is going back to work tomorrow and we’ve been busy during the holiday time, trying to organize the place. Or rather, he is. I finally finished working and all I want to do is take care of the kid and kick back with some vino. Every year around this time, DH goes on a bender throwing things out and ranting about my lack of organizational abilities and my tendency to hoard things. We usually fight over it cause it’s always MY stuff that has to go. Instead I’ve been gritting my teeth and letting him do what he wants. I don’t hoard things, I just don’t throw things out willy nilly like he does and then ask me where it went. You can never have too many gift bags or empty boxes, I say.
Having the baby seems to have driven him over the edge and he’s reorganized the linen closet. Suddenly he was disgusted at the quality of our guest towels and wanted new ones. Inspired by his frenzy, I cleaned out two of my bathroom drawers, vaccummed out random hair, threw out some stuff and then called it a day. I have to do more I know. I have a LOT of travel sized body lotions and shower gels. We gave back a huge container of baby clothes and plan on giving back some more. We just don’t have room for stuff we’re not going to be using in the near future. Our rather sparse living room is now full of baby gear. Hubby seems to have fallen in love with the baby gear. And happily flaunting said baby gear at BFF’s hubby who then wants to get the same thing. Topper. That’s what we called people who see what you have and then go out and get the same thing, maybe even a bigger one.
Yes, we attempted Ikea on apparently the busiest day to bring your family post holidays besides Disneyland. And of course, we did not bring enough powdered formula so I couldn’t feed baby boy and that meant we had to drive around and find a drugstore in search of liquid formula. An hour and half later after wolfing down something forgettable at an eatery and feeding the bottomless pit, we went to a fashionable kid store in the burbs to look for a crib and a dresser. I was distracted at the array of STUFF they had. I even bought some completely pointless furry thing for a change pad for a child who pees on everything, please don’t ask me why. I was confused. I don’t want a ugly change table for $900 thanks because I’m hoping he’ll eventually stop using diapers and then what do I do with it then? The chances that we’ll have another child before I hit retirement age are slim to none, despite predictions that I will now suddenly fall pregnant at my geriatric age. I wouldn’t buy myself a dresser at those prices. Maybe I’m just cheap or used to Ikea crap, but at those prices they should throw in a flat screen TV or something. Almost bought a really nice crib that will apparently last him til he gets married but decided to hold off until I went to Sears. The more I looked around said hip store, the more my head began to swim. Overload. Cute purses for soothers, luxe rockers and ottomans, space age egg like high chairs. Who buys this stuff? Of course, hubby thought it was all cool. Had I not been there, I’m sure he would have bought up half the store. My arm was getting tired from hauling around baby boy up and down stairs trailing after the salesperson who was showing me chic this and hip that in the non stroller friendly store. They need a place to park these suckers so you can get around easily.
Next day we went off to the nearby Sears and lo and behold, we found a knowledgeable, helpful salesperson who let us know that the crib I liked would be on sale on the weekend so to come back then. So that’s just what we did and even had money left over for bedding. And they even carry some of the organic, frou frou lines at reasonable prices so I can spare myself the trip to that other mecca of bad service BadPrices and Even Worse Service R’Us. Okay, what’s the deal with the bedding – half the stuff you’re not supposed to put IN a crib anywhere near the baby! It looks great, but don’t put a baby in there cause they can smother/hang themselves.
Okay, I admit it, I had a little bit of fun. After 8 years of imagining what my life would be like creating a space for a real live baby, grieving the loss of a dream, and even imagining what my life would look like WITHOUT one, I allowed myself this luxury. Of feeling good, of feeling proud that all my sacrifices, both big and small lead me to this pleasure of providing for this child.
In the wee hours of the morning, I then realized that all the cute clothes and hip baby gear (as fun as it is) is not what I truly treasure. Most of the time it just stresses me out. I just needed to hold him, have him look at me with those amazing eyes as he listened to me sing Motown tunes very badly. That’s all that really matters.