Well, it's that time of year again. The pumpkins have hit the composter and the twinkling lights of Christmas are going up. I love (LOVE) the holiday season. I love shopping for presents (maybe because I tend to subscribe to the one-for-you-one-for-me style of shopping). I love the smells of Christmas and the overindulgance of sweets and even the hustle and bustle. My husband brought the decorations down from the attic a few days ago, kicked on the SiriusXM Holly channel and a-decorating I went.
Wait... back up. I should interject here that I've been in a very zen place about The Wait. Honestly, I have. No, seriously. Stop rolling your eyes. For a while there, I was so wraped up in The Wait that I was losing sight of the little dude that was standing right in front of me. I took a minute to step back and look at the big picture and I realized I wasn't enjoying the moment to it's fullest. Time with W was being tarnished with unecessary worry. It's not like I was ignoring him or anything. He's the center of my universe every second of the day. But I wasn't enjoying JUST having him. These times of just him and I being together are fleeting. Soon he'll be entering pre-school and soon (hopefully) there will be another little one needing my attention. So, while I'm still anxiously awaiting The Call, I've also remembered to fully relish this time with W.
Ok, so where was I? Right... The boxes were brought down and the christmas jams were kickin'. The tree went up, the decorations were lovingly hung, the trinkets were placed, garlands were strung. And at the bottom of the box were ourstockings. I pulled out mine, my husband's and W's. Then, there at the bottom of the box, all by it's lonesome was stocking #4. I forgot I had purchased it last year when we were just in the home study portion of the process. I had an irrational mother fear last January that we'd get #2 rather quickly and s/he wouldn't have a stocking and I'd have to run out and get one and it wouldn't match the rest of ours and #2 would spend years in therapy because their stocking wasn't the same and therefore their whole life was some sort of sham and it would be all my fault. Right, like I said, it was irrational. So I got a 4th stocking, tucked it in the Christmas box and forgot about it.
And there it sat in front of me, by itself in the box. I momentarily forgot my zen-like approach to The Wait and got a little teary. Then I composed myself and considered my (admittedly crazy) options. I could hang it and put some sort of little baby present to myself in it as a reminder that #2 will happen eventually (maybe a cute little Sophie?). Or I could burn it because it MUST be bad luck to buy something for a baby that doesn't exist (to us) yet. I decided to go a more rational route and just leave it in the box and hope that I'll be able to hang it with care next Christmas.
But on second thought.. when have I ever denied myself the chance to buy a wee little present? Hanging it and putting one or two baby gifts in there may not be so nutso afterall.
I think a little dilusional part of me thought we'd have a baby by this Christmas. I wish I could go back to 2010 Lindsay and tell her to go at this whole thing with a more rational head. Oh well. I'm rational now. Most of the time.
Did any of you buy things for future baby way far in advance like me? When did you start buying yourself baby things? We're lucky that we have skads of toys and gear from Little W, but part of the joy of expecting a baby is getting him/her little toys and cute onesies. So please share with me when you started going nuts in the baby aisle. I'd love to hear.
On a different note, Little W has his first I-made-my-own-friend friend's birthday party this weekend. Should be a hoot!
I hope you all have a wonderful weekend.