So I was in a department store today. My mission: to buy a gift for DH's one year old god son. I decided on a Thom.as Train or two and was told my the sales guy that I'd have to wait about twenty minutes for the trains to get wrapped as there was a line. No problem, I said and began to just leisurely wander around. Initially, I was looking for gift ideas for Tarb who turns four in less than a month.
But my feet/brain/soul/desire/hopes soon took me to the infants' department. And I began to fantasize... What would I pick out for my son-to-be's baby registry? I liked the "Got Milk?" burp cloths, the blue puppy receiving blankets, the teddy bear and sailboat nighties, the En.fant baby hats with ears, the towels with "Champ" embroidered on them... But then, it soon hit me that I wasn't fantasizing - no, not I of the "trying hard to keep it real and disappointment free" world of the facts-only of the Momcaster.
I was going around there really picking out stuff that I was/am SURE I'll be needing again someday. I was meandering through the aisles, seriously making a mental note of what baby stuff of Tarb's is still in tact, what I'd need to replace and what I'd need to buy brand new. (Mostly clothes because Tarb doesn't have any unisex clothes beyond newborn tie-side kimono tops). It was fun and yet it felt like i was running an errand, doing a chore... I mean, what kind of mother doesn't plan for these things, right? This was something that had to be done!
Then just as my eyes were getting their fill of cool, new baby stuff, they caught sight of a woman in pink, rubbing her ginormous, round belly. And it wasn't like I felt bad after that. My thoughts were more like, "well, she's just going to need all this stuff ahead of me".
I don't know where this strange sense of certainty is coming from. I'm feeling like this - Tarb #2 - is JUST going to HAPPEN. I know that some of you are shaking your heads as you watch/read me barf up all this sunshine but it's what I feel in my gut right now.
Is this certainty is a jedi mind trick I'm playing on myself so I won't feel so bad with the possible failure of I.UI #1 in a month or so...? My rational mind is telling me it is. But if my mind were so rational, why would it even allow me to engage in purposeful fantasy baby registry? Maybe the rational mind is just a sick one with an even sicker sense of humor.