I don't want a bunch of crap

The five week mark came and went with (as far as I know) no miscarriage.  Hooray!

Very sore/swollen boobs and some morning sickness today.  So I think I can assume it’s still in there.  It’s kind of sad that I can’t start getting all excited about this pregnancy.  But those of you who have had a loss know what I’m talking about.  I’m just too scared.  I’d love to start reading pregnancy/labor/parenting books, planning the house (I would say nursery but since I’m not making one right away it’s just the whole house), scoping out cute maternity outfits, coming up with a manifesto of what kind of parent I want to be.  But honestly, all of that was for the “theory” phase when I started this blog, before I started actively trying.  Now my only goal in life is to not lose this baby.  In a few weeks I can start having fun with the pregnancy, start feeling grateful and blessed.  Right now I’m just downright scared of losing it and having to start all over again.

One thing I have given some thought to, though, is one aspect of parenting, which is, what is my attitude going to be about stuff?  And I have a theory about stuff, although I maintain the power to change my mind about this at any time.  My theory is, “I don’t want a bunch of crap”.  Which is going to be really hard to maintain, since I have tons of friends who will want to pile crap on me, and tons of thrilled relatives who will want to do the same.  And I know that no matter how much I tell people I don’t want a bunch of crap, they’re going to pile it on me anyway – even if I tell people that for my shower I want them to make a contribution to the group that helps remove landmines in Cambodia in lieu of gifts, everyone will still want to buy me stuffed animals and cute onesies and giant loud blinking toys instead.  I truly believe that children are as happy banging on pots and pans or playing with sticks and rocks and empty boxes as they would be playing with high tech toys.  I have tons of amazing family toys to be handed down – hand made dolls from my aunt, my grandfather’s WWI era childhood books, etc.  I kept all these things for my future offspring, in an attempt to have a sweet, innocent child who appreciates the small things like a butterfly landing on a leaf or the feeling of a soft spring breeze floating through a window.   Still, I see my tiny house becoming overwhelmed with giant bright colored plastic pieces of crap given by well meaning friends and relatives.  Ugh!  Is this a normal part of being a parent and I just have to let it go?  Am I being a control freak?  Am I assuming I can keep my very staid, stylish adult life going on around here when in fact that’s totally impossible when you have a kid and I need to just get over it?  Am I being a cheap ass bastard in the tradition of my “you’ll get nothing and like it” ancestors?

I truly believe the “stuff” aspect of parenting has gotten totally out of control in the last couple of decades.  Used to be you needed a crib and a high chair and that was it, done.  Now it’s multiple strollers, car seats, boppy pillows, changing tables, sleepers, swaddlers, booster seats, carriers, diaper bags, toys, etc etc.  We didn’t have any of this stuff in the 70s and we turned out all right.  I don’t know.  Maybe I’m being silly and when there is a baby in the picture I’ll see how all of these things really are necessary and make life so much easier.  But I’m skeptical. 

Last year I broke down the wall between my second bedroom and my living room so I could have a nice big airy living room, since the second bedroom was only used as a junk collector.  So basically I have a one bedroom house at the moment.  People who know I’m pregnant always say things like, “boy, I bet you wish you hadn’t broken that wall down now, huh?”  I smile and nod, but they don’t know I have no intention of putting the wall back, not any time soon.  As much as I would totally get a kick out of decorating a nursery (oh, I’ve got the super cute 1940’s kid’s room wallpaper all picked out) I think it’s not practical initially, because it means having to get up and walk into another room every time the baby needs a feeding, which sounds like a huge pain in the butt when the baby should just sleep with me and I can just roll over and feed him/her.  So I plan on some kind of co-sleeping arrangement, even if it’s just a crib next to my bed or whatever.  Again, there’s no man around here to say no, so f it!  The time will of course come when the kid should have his/her own room, but I figure from right now I have at least two more years with my nice big living room and I intend to enjoy it.  Maybe by the time the kid needs his/her own room I will have figured out a way to renovate the attic and that can be the room.  I know when I was a kid I would have loved a little attic room.

Hmm.  In reading all this over, maybe I am thinking more about parenting than I’m giving myself credit for.  Perhaps I’m bolstered by reaching, and passing, the five week mark.  Apart from the conception it’s my first real milestone.