Dearest Daughters,
Posting old content while we're away.
Wrote this near the end of my first pregnancy with Babybel. Two children later, I report: motherhood didn't change me. Slippers are still on the Do Not Buy list, girls. I repeat: DO NOT BUY.
When did I become the type of person for whom slippers are "The Perfect" gift?
About nine months ago, I guess.
The story really goes like this. My bestest friend in the whole wide world, KTA, bought me a pair of warm, comfy and very much appreciated slippers for my Christmas present. Perfect for my hardwood floors and poorly insulated apartment. Perfect for shuffling and rocking and feeding in the middle of the night. Perfect, in fact, for right now, cozy on the couch, writing a blog entry. So, thank you, Katherine.
I have nothing against Katherine.
I have nothing against slippers.
I'm just shocked (and amused) at an event that occured in my apartment this morning.
I had a lovely breakfast of eggs, potatoes, apple wood smoked bacon and the best biscut ever with my other bestest friend in the whole wide world, Ashley. We returned to my apartment to do some gift exchanging. Fine. If you must know: I had some Tokyo souvineers that I never gave her and a small homemade Christmas present. She gave me a "lame" (according to her) baby present, but it really wasn't. Instead of plastic toys from China that BabyBel doesn't really need, she got us diapers, wipes and the very important (and until now, unobtained) breast pads and cream. Superb baby gift, if you ask me. She ordered me something else, she told me, but she didn't have it yet. She'd bring it by next week.
Then, I hear a string of profanity exiting her mouth. Not that I'm unfamiliar with profanity, but given our pleasant morning, I wasn't sure what was wrong. Very concerned, I looked at her for clues and followed her gaze to my slippers sitting on the living room floor.
Apparently she had ordered me the EXACT, EXACT, we're talking EXACT same pair of slippers that Katherine did. And she was so proud of herself for thinking of and almost delivering on "The Perfect" gift, she was so pissed that someone beat her to it. Though, she reports to have thought of the idea in August, so I don't think Katherine can beat that.
I tried to console Ashley by praising her and Katherine's ability to choose "The Perfect" gift for me, apparently so perfect that TWO of my closest friends thought of it. Great minds think alike! Look how well you know me! You both are so thoughtful! But she was not to be consoled.
If only my slippers had been sitting in my room out of her line of sight! Then this travesty would not have transpired. Of course, I'd be the recipient of two of the EXACT, EXACT, we're talking EXACT same pair of slippers. Which brings me back to my initial question: When did I become the type of person for whom slippers are "The Perfect" gift?
Upon hearing this story, Beadle welcomed me to motherhood. But I told him that these high quality L.L. Bean slippers will last a good 3-5 years and when I actually need new slippers I (or one of my best friends, apparently) will buy them. Because I need them. Not because they'd make a great annniversary gift. He, under no circumstances, is allowed or should allow our children to buy me slippers. Designer handbags, spa gift certificates, chocolate, something for the kitchen, if they must, but not slippers! I'm only 23! No. Wait. I forget. I'm 24. Okay, almost 25. But, I'm too young to be relegated to a lifetime supply of slippers!
And don't get me started on robes.
Comments