My Advertising & Promotions Manager just had a baby boy last week, his second child after a girl three years ago. So since I was alone for lunch hour today, I decided to make the rounds of the fifth floor of Pavilion where the baby stores were, and I came out of Baby Gap with a box of bibs and onesies and a big foolish smile on my face.
I had never been partial to children before, and up until Shirley became pregnant last year I never gave children a thought. But then she broke the news to me, and all of a sudden I had this one other person to take care of — which makes me sound like the father (figure) — because her then-boyfriend was a lying, cheating, mass-procreating scumbag. And before I knew it, I was godmother to the brightest, happiest little boy who insisted on arriving five weeks early and sending everyone into a frenzy.
And what did I do when Shirley told me it was going to be a boy? I waited until my next trip to Manhattan and scoured the baby departments of Saks Fifth Avenue, Bergdorf Goodman, and the other high-end stores I myself frequented to look for baby clothes and accessories. I ended up buying a Dior feeding bottle, D&G onesies, Juicy Couture bibs and socks, and the Lucky Brand Rockstar onesie that Shirley swears she’ll keep forever because it was what she called him even before he was born. It didn’t even matter that he would outgrow all these things — except the bottle and bibs — in next to no time at all, and if I’d had absolutely no self-restraint at all I would have bought him a pair of Gucci baby sneakers.
So yes, I have an odd — and probably perverse — love for shopping for babies. I don’t know if it’s because I find baby clothes ridiculously adorable, or it’s my body’s way of telling me that buying gifts for friends’ babies is the closest I’ll ever get to doing anything maternal, but I love doing it. And odder still, I like shopping for boys’ clothes, which, according to Becca’s mother, means that my firstborn will be a boy (completely contradictory if said shopping habit is a sign of permanent childlessness), even though I only ever wanted one girl, after watching my mom tear her hair out raising my brother.
I know. I can’t imagine myself being a mother either.