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I keep accidentally spelling the name of this store wrong, so I’m just going to let it fly. (Disclaimer: I know that the plural form of baby is babies and not babys.)
Gregg and I went to register over the weekend at Babies R Us, and we didn’t get in a fight. Victory. I tried to pick a fight, but Gregg stopped me in my tracks by making a joke. Very clever, that one. Registering for wedding gifts was a different story. I like shopping with Gregg, because he says things like, “Let’s register for more practical things.” And then, when we get to the bottles, he says, “Ok, which ones are the best?” He even said, “Aren’t there some new pacifiers that all are the rage?” Where and how does he even get all this information? He knows we need stuff, and he wants to get the good stuff, but he doesn’t want a lot of it.
I know this baby is going to need some stuff when he comes. Clothes, diapers, a place to sleep. But, does he really need a plastic “weather” shield cover to put over his $500 backroading stroller?
Does he need a baby spa/bathtub/shower especially for him?
These are actual items on sale at Babies R Us. I know that there will be some things that we “must-have,” I’m just not exactly sure what they are yet. I have some great mom-friends tat have been super helpful in telling me what the “must-haves” are. Some of them seem to be true for everyone and others seem to vary from mom to mom and baby to baby. I hope I’m not offending anyone, but its just fun to be a bit cynical sometimes.
My mother-in-law, already told us she was getting us this. Definitely not a necessity, but pretty stinking cute.
See, I’m not completely cold-hearted when it comes to baby stuff. Just trying to find the balance.
I tried on over ten tops at TJMaxx yesterday and didn’t like any of them. This is concerning to me. I used to be SUCH a TJMaxx girl. I’ve been thinking about why the tops didn’t work.
One: Annoyance. There were annoying loud-talkers in the store. What I mean is a group of women were talking and laughing loudly. After a day of work, I tried to escape. They were bothering me. Hello! I’m trying to shop. Can you please be quiet? A reasonable request, right? Then, when I was about half-way through trying on my stuff in the dressing room, I hear them. The loud-talkers found me in the dressing room. I had to get out after trying on about 3/4ths of my goods.
Two: Colors. One of my ex-co-workers did “Color Analysis” as a side job. After poking and prodding her for several weeks, I convinced her to give me a mini-Color Analysis. She was reluctant, since women will normally (get this) pay her to go shopping with them while she tells them which colors do and don’t look good on them. She gave me a freebie. Since consulting with her, I’ve gravatated towards “my colors.” I’m Spring, which means, coral, turquoise, taupe, ivory, NOT black and NOT white. Those are only for Winters. Apparently, not beige/tan either. Because everything I tried on in that color was blah-looking. I looked up the entire Spring palette yesterday, and there’s more variety/diversity than I thought. Now, I seem to know now when a color looks bad on me (anything that’s not Spring), when I used to be content with cute and cheap no matter the color.
Three: Snobbery/Higher Standards. When I started working professionally,I allowed myself to get some more expensive, higher-end clothes. (Ok, I went to the mall.) And its been so nice to have clothes that don’t have holes, aren’t picked, and are just overall well-made. I just felt like everything I tried on in that store was about to fall apart.
BUT! I did buy a $4 shirt at a thrift store after my trip to TJMaxx was a bust. I guess snobbery hasn’t totally taken over.
I went into work for training one day last week. I love my new boss. He’s one of those people that compliments everybody all the time, even his patients. He’s very genuine about it (not creepy), and, I must admit, when the compliments turn to me, I soak it up.
I sat in on a meeting during lunch that included the entire office staff: medical, front desk, and therapists. Something happened to me that has not happened in a long time. I was hyper-aware of my height. I’m five-foot-one; the therapists all seemed to be slender, fashionable, and at least six feet tall. Some were wearing heels, some flats, and I was just walking around the room with a craned neck getting introduced to everyone. I had flats on, as always, but I was seriously contemplating making a beeline from the meeting to the nearest shoe store to purchase some heels, or at least some wedges.
I’m never the tallest in the room, unless I’m in a fifth grade class room, which I never am. Gregg is six-foot-three, so I’m used to the neck-craning. Maybe my awareness was due to the fact that they were all women. Maybe it was because I was meeting them all for the first time. It would be one thing if they were tall, ugly, and poorly dress, but, not so. I have a couple of tall friends, and I’m not thinking about how tall they are the whole time we are together. But, seriously, it was like I was in a women’s basketball locker room or the first day of high school, as a freshman, gazing up, intimidated by the seniors thinking, I’ll never be that tall. And, its true, in this case, I will never be as tall as these women.
Thankfully, after the meeting, the one other shortie in the bunch introduced herself to me. She said that she’d love for me to stop by her office some time, blah, blah, blah. Very nice. I said that we shorties need to stick together. I didn’t really say that, but I felt it.
To top off the day, I went to dinner with my parents who had been in town for the week. We went to a nice restaurant on a pier in Norfolk. I went to the bathroom to wash my hands before the meal. After washing up, I looked up to the mirror (you know, to check myself out real quick), all I could see was the top of my head. Really? Seriously? After a day with giants, I’m not even tall enough to look myself over in the mirror. I surrender. I’ll pick up some cheap wedges from Target next week. My mom said that she found some cute ones on sale.
I think I’m changing, or maybe just getting older. Or both. Maybe its just that I finally have a job where I have to dress up and where professional clothes. I was talking to a lady that’s about 25 years older than me. She says that she keeps threatening to give up. As in, stop caring about what she looks like and just wear sweatpants and sweatshirts every day. When she said this, my response was that I have been wanting to take it up a notch. As in, I want to start dressing nice and caring about my appearance. Not in an obsessive way, but in an I feel good about myself way.
In college, I wore a t-shirt and denim skirt pretty much every day of the summer. I loved it. Then, after graduation and in Europe, I would layer tank tops and cotton tees on top of each other. This made for a different look without having to buy new clothes. (I’m going somewhere with this, I promise.) I’m getting to the point where I want to wear clothes that I didn’t find on the street (yep, in San Francisco people unload their stuff on the street, and I loved rummaging through what they tossed out) or receive from a friend after they decided they didn’t like it any more. Seriously about 75% of my clothes were acquired in one of these two ways.
I’ve been reading this book off and on about living as royalty. The book explains that God is the king and we are His children and, therefore part of his kingdom. According to the author, we should live confidently, with the knowledge that we are royalty. There’s a quiz at the end of the book that evaluates how you live. Do you live like a princess or do you live like a pauper? One of the questions is “do you shop a discount stores and do you always look for bargains?” Answering “always” or “very often” put you in the pauper category. Hmm. What about being “a good steward” of God’s money? I guess from the author’s perspective, not shopping for expensive clothing and other nice items means that you view yourself as unworthy to have these types of things.
My mom and I both suffer from guilt (she calls it buyer’s remorse) after going shopping, so all of this over-thinking is part of the preparation for the big shop I’m about to have. I’m about to get my first paycheck since December. I’m going to spend it in on nice clothes for work. I’m not going to spend all of it. I’m going to buy these clothes and wear them, so that I don’t feel frumpy every day that I go to work. I’m growing up. Maybe I’ll eventually, I’ll actually feel like a professional princess. But, for now, I’ll just dress like one.