The day after we knew we were expecting, Kevin went shopping for Elsa. It was about a week before Halloween and just like a couple of goth kids, he had us stocked with skeleton, pumpkin and giraffe onesies. The shopping frenzy continued over the next nine months. I had to be “ready.” I had to be sure that she had everything she needed. A few wise people told me to hold out and shop after she arrived, but after my body had reached the epic physical proportions of some mythological beast, it only got worse. Instead of shopping for myself I just bought Elsa more stuff. It didn’t stop after she was born. I have a Target credit card. I scour the clearance racks at Janie & Jack, Crazy 8 and Gymboree. My bedroom is baby land. She has more hoodies, sweaters and jackets right now than I’ve owned in my lifetime. Oh, and don’t be mistaken – I can’t afford this shit.
So big deal, most of us have done this, right?
Well, I learned something new today and this confession serves as a vehicle for the lesson I want to deliver. We were at the mall today and while she freaked out, we offered her a dancing musical bug, green jingly frog, a live duet of Yo Gabba Gabba songs, a rainbow of pacifiers… you get it. She wasn’t feeling it. We drug our screaming baby into Starbucks. In desperation and a stroke of genius or bad parenting (same difference) I handed my baby a straw. Holy shit. She thought it was the coolest thing since she met my mom’s old boston terrier. She was totally content all the way home.
So now I know. For the time being, she doesn’t care what I buy for her. It doesn’t matter if it’s a $60 swing coat, a $22 giraffe or a free straw. I need to enjoy this simplicity while it lasts. I hear they can get kind of demanding later…
