I *may* be addicted to shopping.
I'd like to say that I have the disposable income to support my love of buying but as I'm often reminded, I don't. As my mom pointed out while I was young, just because you have checks left in the box doesn't mean you can keep writing them. You know, back when people used to write checks instead of sliding a debit card. Credit cards on the other hand, well those stretch my love just a little farther. But shhhhh....that's a secret just between us.
I shop when I'm happy. I shop when I'm not so happy and I need a pick-me-up.
Shoes I'll never wear. Purses that I'll carry for a few short months before I'm again looking for a new one. Clothes I may never take the tags off of, gathering dust in my closet. Things I don't need but can't pass up.
But the tiniest clothes are by far my favorite purchases.The baby department has a magnetic pull that is as strong as if I were nothing but a giant paperclip.
I don't see my grandbabies nearly as often as I'd like to and I rarely buy things that I am drawn to for fear that they will be outgrown before they ever get to see them. Yet I still spend crazy amounts of time searching for the perfect little dress or the sweetest onesie. I even carry them around the store thinking how darling she'll look or questioning whether his tiny toes will have room to wiggle.
Before I put them down and wander out empty handed.
But yesterday something happened. A tiny heartbeat on an ultrasound monitor. A date in January with a new baby who will be shared with me.
A new mommy and daddy will be born.
Until then, let the shopping commence!