I’m an Instagram stalk-a-holic of all things baby. Kids shops, boutiques, baby brands – you name it. An addict by nature, I binge-scroll through all of the leather moccasins, whimsical nurseries, luxury strollers, handmade classic toys, stylish bow subscriptions (that we JUST cancelled to my dismay because “priorities”) and ‘add to cart’ mentally. Then get frustrated with all of the things that Piper doesn’t have – and I spiral into insatiable agony (well, that’s a bit dramatic) of what COULD be if I had more time – money – creativity – the list goes on. That cycle wraps up with an Instagram ‘unfollow’ cleanse in the spirit of out-of-sight, out-of-mind, and accepting the reality that we don’t really need these handmade pastel wooden blocks, a ride-able unicorn, a magical Moozle teepee, and the Freshly Picked moccasins in Blush and Gold for my wild child who prefers bare feet to shoes – an empty Pampers box to her plush bunny rocker and the coasters on the coffee table to baby blocks and stacking toys (I’m seriously scratching my head, here). Granted – I’ll hit a boring traffic spell and engage with the Instagram stalk-a-holic cycle and begin again. Sounds exhausting, right?
Babies are exhausting. But in the very best way. We just returned to S.C. from visiting my parents in Nashville for Piper’s first Christmas. What I had in mind? A starry eyed bitty babe thrilled by her new monogrammed chair and array of noisy, bright engaging toys with battery life that doesn’t quit – ever. Reality – Realizing that every single thing in the house is edible – and that unwrapping Christmas presents is actually just an intense episode of American Ninja Warrior, protecting the ornaments (most of them) on the tree, keeping a 9MO from digesting unhealthy amounts of pine needles and wrapping paper, and hitting new fit-bit records chasing a baby in hot pursuit of the stairs and all other horrendous household hazards. Piper’s favorite presents this year? Not her monogrammed ‘My First Anywhere’ chair. Not her Dainty Cheeks Unicorn. It was the empty boxes. It was a stale donut-hole fossil she discovered behind the sound system in the living room. It was Oliver’s (the family yorkie) collar.
Babies just keep it real. I envisioned Pinterest-worthy photos of my daughter on her first Christmas – sitting all fairty-tale-like under the glittering tree surrounded by her handpicked gifts, smiling in awe and wonder.
Here’s what I got. Well played, little Pipe.
Her birthday is in March. If you’re interested, she’d like disposable clothes for frequent, humbling diaper blow-outs, toilet paper rolls, large empty boxes, choke hazard tags, dog collars, dog food and empty water bottles.
Commence Instagram baby boutique un-follow purge (round 49).
Adrianne Buckley 