Mar 05 2009


I have now thoroughly perused the baby girl collections at both Target (online) and Gymboree (online) and I have melted. Have become goo. You can find me- I’m the puddle on the chair mat under my desk.

This is my attempt to make this whole business more “Real” (and here I even snort at myself, so you can play along at home). I have not entered that stage of compulsive baby-shopping (a stage which my husband is now hoping I bypass entirely this time around), a stage that came almost immediately with Cole and lasted until… um… I guess that one never really stopped. But for this new baby? Meh- I just can’t get into it.

And I feel like I have to keep reasserting how excited I am to be having this child, and how loved she will be, and how utterly spoiled her grandparents will make her once she’s here. Please have no doubt about the depth of my feelings ALREADY about this little darling.

But I am also so WAYWAYWAY more relaxed about nearly everything concerning this pregnancy and the baby-planning and all, which I mostly think is a good thing. I think that most people who know me would say that I tend to get a bit… INTENSE… about stuff when I’m obsessing, and that this relaxed state is 1) Excellent, and should probably last forever, and 2) Probably will NOT last forever.

(Dani+OCD 4EVER!!!!!!!!!!!)

Trust me when I say that there is pretty much no chance of this baby coming and us not having at least the basic necessary stuff. My mother alone will probably stock us up with enough girly junk to last us for days, even taking into consideration that tiny babies poop A LOT more than 3 year olds do, and tend to be messier about it.

The girl clothes, though, just seem so much more complicated than the boy’s stuff. Cole was always either dressed in a sleeper or a onsie and stretch-pants. Easy-peasy! The girl stuff? DIFFERENT STORY. There are ruffles and dresses and skirts and bloomers and tights and bonnets and and and… Where are the simple baby clothes? Where’s the stuff that I can toss in the washer and not care about? Where’s the plain stuff with no ruffles for all the spit-up to get caught in and go rancid? Huh? ARE YOU TRYING TO GIVE ME LAUNDRY NIGHTMARES?!

I’m thinking, when we get to the buying point, I may just get a bunch of the onesies that say “I’m not a boy” and leave it at that. Done and done.