Trade Off for the Newly Expecting Couple

When you finally break down in tears and beg Husband to open the vault that is a teeny bank account because your pants may be strangling the fetus inside, it is time to take initiative (and the credit card) to Macy's. I am not a therapeutic shopper; the demon checkbook says "Awwww, hail no!" I am certainly not a casual shopper, though I try to be a bargain one. On Saturday afternoon, Happy Husband took me to Goodwill for a shopping spree. Notification: Not all Goodwill Stores are created equal... read: some of them smell like mothballs and bengay joint cream and require those with super noses, like myself, to evacuate premises immediately. I toughed it out for 20 minutes browsing the Pregnant Octagenarians rack in the back of shop.

Not recommended as perfume

We hauled my leggings bedecked booty out of there and went across town to a consignment kids shop. Pregnant women do not wear tapered jeans, so they should be burned and not sold in stores, second hand or not; I prefer to sleep in tents under the stars, not to wear ones that were knitted in the 70s (also with the faint pesticide odor of prior owner).  Just because my belly is huge doesn't mean I intend for my butt to appear larger, too. Also, am I full-on cray-cray to consider a previously owned juggs milker, if I buy brand new replacement parts that actually touch my skin and baby sustenance? This thing usually costs over $300 new and I can get it for $89 if I wait until the end of the month. Is this preggo brain, or good thrifting?

via

After a delicious sandwich across the street, Hubster drove me halfway back across town to THE MALL! Egads! It has been forever since I stepped in there. The craving for Auntie Anne's pretzels and Cinnabon were nearly overwhelming. I stayed focused until we came to the corner of Macy's that houses their Motherhood Collection. Wanted to buy EVERYTHING, but purchased two pairs of gorgeous work pants that fit like a spandex glove over this house sized belly. I maneuvered our way to the baby clothes section and pointed out that we need little shirts that snap on the side when we bring our bundle of joy home from the hospital, "That way it doesn't hurt the soft little head or rub the little stump," I said. "Stump?! Stump?!!" Husband was slightly alarmed that seemed to have told him forgotten something. "Yeah, the part of the umbilical cord that hangs on for a little while. Its stuck to the belly button," I explained in perfect medicalese. "That'ssooo nasty. I'm going to puke," he enlightened me. "Yep, it gets all crusty and gross then falls off after about a couple weeks. Some people even keep it in scrapbooks." He looked like he was going to pass out under the bibs. The joys of freaking out a future father; you can't put a price on it.

The stump I'm talking about looks a little different (no daffodils)

We get home and Hubs is feeling the sting of not having any toys. So he purchased some video games and proceeded to play them for hours as soon as Amazon delivered them to the house. You just enjoy them while it lasts, sweetums. When baby cry, daddy cry too. Mommy nearly cried too when she found out the white preggie pants were freakin' see-through. Nothing like a brazen pregnant-out-to-here hussy walking around the children's museum with her granny panties seen clear through the be-hind. Looking fierce coming and going... back to the mall... to get Cinnabon... and pretzel...

Or maybe a donut will do? Mmmmm... Donuts