Hello Baby ~ Goodbye Money

My Daughter is a consenting adult, married for almost three years now, so it wasn’t like she needed my permission to… get pregnant. Still, I never saw it coming. How on earth did this happen? was the first thought that popped into my head when she handed me one of those home pregnancy sticks with the pink lines clearly displayed. Thankfully I managed to swallow the words just as I felt them about to tumble from my mouth. I am aware of how these things happen and I don’t need to hear the details. My Son-In-Law looked guilty of something and took a sudden interest in the lint on my carpet. My second thought was, “Oh my God, I am going to be a Grandmother, I better go shopping…I’ve only have eight months left!”

     Well, I’m here to tell you those first few months of shopping were HELL, even for someone who considers themselves a professional. I was drawn to everything pink—there is more of it and it is so much cuter than the blue stuff. A sales lady did me a huge favor by prying a tutu out of my hands when I fessed up and told her that we didn’t yet know if the baby was a boy or a girl. “Honey”, she said, shaking her head and forcing the handful of pink tulle out of my fist, “this is one thing that just can’t go either way.” She was right; I could almost see The Baby Daddy signing over adoption papers and the Two Grandpas notarizing them. No way in hell was their boy going to wear a tutu! So I bought diapers…and lots of them. 

     A month or so later Daughter has an ultra-scan and everyone in the room (5 adults with 20/20 vision) swears they see a dumbstick! (it should be noted here that “dumbstick” is my word—not the in-laws who were in the room, word) So...it’s boy...I'm fine with that. Boy is code for, “this is going to save me a $#!% load of money!” I immediately quit looking at paisley and start admiring camo. I buy cute little navy boat shoes, a Ralph Lauren polo shirt, a little golf outfit that says “Daddy’s Caddy” and an adorable outfit that has a little excavator on it. His Grandpa will be so proud, I think as I slide my credit card across the counter!

Everything is going well, no morning sickness, she's really happy, (see picture at left) no mood swings (wink, wink), cute little bump showing. She takes her prenatal vitamins and does what most pregnant cowgirls do—she has the veterinarian give her an ultra-sound. “Girl”, the vet says, like he knows what he’s talking about. Well, this changes everything! I stop looking at Carharts and go back to buying diapers while I wait for someone with an OBGYN behind their name to confirm this. 

Finally a few weeks later the MD concurs with the DVM. The shopping Gods smile on me and darling girl-baby-stuff practically multiplies in front of my eyes as I walk through department stores. I blow the dust of a credit card that I haven’t used in months and practice blushing while looking shocked,  as cashiers tell me I "can’t possibly be old enough to be a grandmother,” which triggers a weird reflex that causes me to throw another onesie on the pile. The other Grandma-To-Be is on the same mission, so pink and zebra and cute stuff pile up in the new pink and zebra and cute bedroom.      

   So here's the countdown:  $1240 later we have accumulated approximately 800 diapers, made 95 purchases that include 40-some outfits. It's 3 months until the due date when 2 families will be blessed with 1 little baby girl!  

Savannah’s all time favorite meal is her Grandma Di's Chicken & Dumplins. As a little girl she requested them on a regular basis and Mom always complied. They would mix up a batch of noodles and Mom would roll them out and Savannah would cut them. Using an old wooden spoon that had once belonged to MY Great Grandma, they would stir up the dumplins. Together, their hands held onto that old spoon as mom guided it around the bowl. The result was shockingly tender dumpling that soaked up the chicken broth, and thick, hearty, uneven and sometimes odd shaped noodles. Sadly, my mother is not here to make noodles and dumplins with the little girl who would have been her first great grandchild, but I’m sure she would want me to keep that old wooden spoon and the recipe alive.  Go to the "Beef-Pork-Chicken" tab at the top of the page to view it.