The Plastic Spoon
Call me crazy but whenever I hear the words: “downward spiraling economy” together, I hyperventilate. Let’s face it – that verbiage doesn’t exactly illicit the warm, loving sensation that a woman wants to feel during her pregnancy.
Besides - I’m a worrier by nature.
I worry that we won’t be able to stretch our moola to cover the mortgage, pay for bills, take care of our 5-yr old AND a brand-new baby. I worry that my job won’t be flexible with my family’s growing needs. I worry that the baby will need things that I can’t give him/her because we’re too broke to pay attention. (Har-har...old joke but always applicable.)
A brown bag and some yoga-breathing later, I turn to a lesson that Jailyn taught me many moons ago:
Rewind 5 years - Dh and I were first-time parents; anxious and fumbling about with a little bundle whose tears could not be bribed away with promises of snicker bars or an increase in allowance. And – like all parents- we bought all the things that “people” said she needed. Soon every room in the house was filled with jumperoos, pack and play pens, bouncers and varying gizmos to engage her during tummy time. We bought mirrored mats, talking boxes, colorful balls that vibrated, swing gyms that hung above her and a drum counted out beats with each tap of the baby’s hand. Hundreds (maybe even thousands) of dollars worth of toys at her disposal………….and which one was her favorite?
A $2 plastic spoon from Target and her empty diaper boxes.
And just like that, we learned a valuable lesson from the purest of hearts:
You really don’t “need” as much as you think you do.
I'm sure that everything will work out in the end...but in the meantime, I’ll get through my panic attacks with a plastic spoon in hand.
Besides - I’m a worrier by nature.
I worry that we won’t be able to stretch our moola to cover the mortgage, pay for bills, take care of our 5-yr old AND a brand-new baby. I worry that my job won’t be flexible with my family’s growing needs. I worry that the baby will need things that I can’t give him/her because we’re too broke to pay attention. (Har-har...old joke but always applicable.)
A brown bag and some yoga-breathing later, I turn to a lesson that Jailyn taught me many moons ago:
Rewind 5 years - Dh and I were first-time parents; anxious and fumbling about with a little bundle whose tears could not be bribed away with promises of snicker bars or an increase in allowance. And – like all parents- we bought all the things that “people” said she needed. Soon every room in the house was filled with jumperoos, pack and play pens, bouncers and varying gizmos to engage her during tummy time. We bought mirrored mats, talking boxes, colorful balls that vibrated, swing gyms that hung above her and a drum counted out beats with each tap of the baby’s hand. Hundreds (maybe even thousands) of dollars worth of toys at her disposal………….and which one was her favorite?
A $2 plastic spoon from Target and her empty diaper boxes.
And just like that, we learned a valuable lesson from the purest of hearts:
You really don’t “need” as much as you think you do.
I'm sure that everything will work out in the end...but in the meantime, I’ll get through my panic attacks with a plastic spoon in hand.
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