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Envy

Before Amira was born, I didn’t look twice at baby stuff.  I wasn’t one of those women who was interested in such things for interest’s sake, or because I wondered what my own child may have one day.

Even when I was pregnant, I did zero research on…well, just about everything.  I didn’t look up strollers or cribs or carriers or clothes or anything.  I figured either someone would just tell is what we needed to know, or we’d just figure it out.  I mean, she’s a baby.  She doesn’t need fancy this and expensive that and the high-end fanciest whatnot.  Whatever it is, she’ll grow out of it before she gets any real use out of it anyway.

And for awhile, I was all good. Amira slept in her hand-me-down bassinet, and now in her Ikea crib, wearing her inexpensive onesies, and I was all good.  I know other mothers with designer diaper bags, babies with designer wardrobes and cribs that cost more than all my bedroom furniture combined.  And that’s wonderful for them.  But none of it interested me.

But then it crept up on me…stroller envy. Damn damn stroller envy.

I didn’t give the stroller much thought before Amira was born.  It had to be functional and come with a recommendation.  Well, we got both in the stroller we chose for Amira.  I asked my bestie, she told me what she had used for her kids, and if it was good enough for them, it was certainly good enough for Amira.  So we got the stroller, and it was all good for a while. A short while.  Like, till we went to the mall the first time and saw ALL THE OTHER STROLLERS.

There are a million different strollers out there, and I gotta admit, I feel myself eyeing some of the other strollers at the mall with a green eye.  None of the ones that are too spaceshipy looking like this one:

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Now this is a pretty swank stroller, from what I understand.  But I just don’t dig it.  It looks…weird.

But there are others that have started to pull my longing gaze, like this one:

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Oh, Uppababy Vista.  You have turned me into the mother I never wanted to be.  The mother who wants all that unnecessary damn expensive crap for her baby.

Amira’s pretty brown polka dot Graco Stylus is fine for her. I mean, look at this.  Doesn’t it look cozy?

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And it is.  I mean, it must be.  She can sleep in that thing like a champ.  The bumps in the sidewalk bother me way more than they bother her.  So why the green-eyed monster directed at all those other strollers?

Before Amira was born, I was all, “ah, she’ll just use what she gets and she’ll like it!”  But now that she’s here, all that stuff that I demanded be good enough for her isn’t good enough for me.  And really, I’m not all fancy-pants like that!  I don’t wear designer clothes or designer shoes or carry designer bags.  It’s just not who I am.  And it’s not that I need for Amira to have designer things.  But I just want her to have the best.  I mean, she didn’t ask to be born.  So why shouldn’t she have the comfiest stroller, and the nicest carrier, and the softest cotton for her clothes?

I know, I know, I KNOW.  We love her.  Adore her.  Take care of her.  She really wants for nothing, and it might not hurt her to cry it out a bit more.  I really couldn’t tell you where all of this is coming from, except a desire for her to have everything and want for nothing.  I know it’s not a healthy condition when one wants for nothing – I mean, a little effort, a little desire, a goal or two – those are good things to have. But I don’t want her to.

But I won’t tell her that.  I won’t get her everything she wants.  I won’t get her top-of-the-line this and designer that. She will earn money as soon as she can, learn how to manage it, how to value it and how to share it.  She’ll learn that it’s okay to want things, and that you don’t always have to have everything you want.  She’ll learn that happiness isn’t found in things, but in experiences and in connections and sometimes in something as simple as a sunset.

But still…that’s a damn fine stroller.

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