The Stuff You Don't Need
There I was, 9 months swollen and frantically
searching the isles of Babies R Us, bumping all products, all people in my
path. If I’d heard of it and hadn’t
gotten it at a shower, I threw it in the cart.
Tubes of nipple cream? I’ll take
five. Butt-wipe warmers? Yes, please.
Singing clock, indeed, I need.
Play-mats, play-pens, and more. “And” I shouted towards the 16 year old
male store clerk, “isn’t there some kind of belly band that makes you skinny
again? ‘Cause I’m gonna need one of
those.”
My poor husband stood there in a daze, mouth open, eyes wide
and watched the debauchery unfold. I saw
the look in his eyes. In my head, I
could hear him saying “Do we really have the money for this junk?” and “Is all this stuff really necessary?” But it was no use. I had lost complete control.
You see, if it wasn’t obvious already, I am a first time mom. And I had to be fully equipped for the job, which at the time to me meant buying crap. One of my girlfriends made a list for me of all the ‘amenities’ I needed to purchase before baby showed up: ‘exersaucer, play-mat, mobile, jumpy chair…’ the list went on. So in my mind, I was just listening.
A disgruntled husband, two Johnny Jump Ups and 101
storybooks later, our daughter was born.
As to be expected, I forgot about all the junk we purchased that awaited
her back home. Before she arrived, I had
neatly organized all of her toys and clothes; everything had a perfect spot. But when we got home, I couldn’t be bothered
to put toys in front of her face, much less read her a book. And all she could do was barf. Every thoughtfully sorted burp cloth and toy ended
up soiled, and on a pile in a corner somewhere.
We survived those first few weeks. And here I sit, three months later. I have yet to break into the closet of must haves. It seems she delights more in looking at mine and my husband’s faces than any fancy, brightly flashing toy we’ve dangled in front of her. I suppose I’m learning just as much as she is at this point.
Ah, well. I’ll chalk
my shopping binge up to being a rookie.
“Well, I won’t let it happen again,” I promised my husband, sheepishly grinning while
recently looking through the closet of unnecessaries. “And at least NEXT TIME I’ll really know what we need.” This time a look of terror overtook his face. Only it wasn’t the purchases that had him
freaked.
Original Rocky Mountain Moms Blog Post. When Brie isn't catching up from early mommy-hood sleep deprivation, she can be found making light of things on her blog: Brie's Blunderings.
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