More embarrassing things from my closet

Do you have a prized possession? Maybe some jewelry or a family heirloom? I have a few, and I must confess that most are embarrassing.

First, there's my ratty old security blanket, then there's my American Girl dolls (yep - you read that correctly: I have DOLLS - plural), and lastly? My Calico Critters. You've probably never heard of them. I was rather obsessed with an almost identical collection of little flocked animals called Maple Town when I was young, so when I discovered back in college that the company started making them again, I did what any normal 21 year old would do:

Go out and spend hundreds of dollars on teeny tiny animals, their miniature furniture, and of course, lodging to contain it all.

Seriously.

Come on, could you say "No" to these cute little beady-eyed faces?

Yes?

Okay, well...I think you've realized by now that you're probably a lot cooler than me. 

Anyway, I dug the little house out of my closet the other day and hand picked a few of the items that were big enough for Carina to play with (read: she wouldn't try to eat them). I handed her a family of gray cats, some beds, chairs, and miscellaneous other pieces of furniture, and watched {in amazement} as she didn't attempt to break or bang said items, or shove an unsuspecting tabby kitty in her diaper.

My collection of critters

There used to be more, but I sold a bunch right before Carina was born. Most of the ones I sold (on eBay) were either ugly (green frogs with giant scary googly eyes that I got for free with a rebate) or were bought for me by my ex-boyfriend, and I could sell them for twice what they cost. I'm not kidding there is a market for these things; I think I made $600.

Trying to send kitty through the window?!?

So far, the house, or "house! house! house!" as she likes to call it, has occupied her for hours upon hours. Score one for college-age dorky Mama G and the things she spent her money on.

Am I the only weirdo out there?

Pure evil

Onesies.

I loathe them.

Yes, I realize that they are the ultimate baby staple and as you shop for clothes for your little one you will no doubt be inundated by them. White ones, colored ones, striped ones, embroidered ones, screen printed ones, ones with animals, with hearts, with baseballs...you get the point.

You'll probably receive {eleventy} billion of them as gifts because hey, aren't they what babies wear all the time? I guess - if you're normal. But if you're anything like me, your newborn will never wear one.

I just don't understand who thought it was a good idea to make the archetypal outfit for a squishy little thing with a floppy neck and not-yet-hardened skull require juggling both in order to get said garment on?

That's right - we never used onesies when Carina was a newborn because I was deathly afraid of getting them over her head without denting her soft spot or overextending her muscleless neck. Sure, you can probably attribute that to first-time-Mom nerves, but I'm totally laughing at myself as I write this, because I still don't plan on using any when Aurelia is born, either. I'd just rather not.

Much better

So did we let Carina hang around in just a diaper and a smile? No, we did actually clothe our baby, just with kimono-style tops and creepers. Put them down, put baby on top, button up. Whew! So much easier. And no risk of injury to poor unsuspecting squishy. Why juggle the head and neck if you don't have to? Those are important parts hanging in the balance!

Is there anyone else out there who shares my irrational hatred of the over-the-head demon duds? I know the majority of you are likely onesie lovers, so go ahead and tell me how strange I am ;)

I'm almost 28 and I still have a security blanket

Hattie. That's his name. He is a {very} disheveled winter hat. I don't know why I gravitated towards a winter hat instead of a traditional security blanket, but I did, and I have slept with him in the crook of my arm for as long as I can remember.

Growing up I would bring him to friends' houses for sleepovers, but I would usually hide him. I was ashamed of my attachment to an inanimate object with a pom pom at one end and the letters of the alphabet in purple thread and pink hearts adorned on the brim.

In high school and even college ::sigh:: I didn't try to hide it anymore. Most of my close friends from both will tell you that they have seen Hattie and have {laughingly} come to accept him as part of me. I think it weirded M out a little at first, having to share our bed with a now falling apart article of winter apparel, but he has also come to understand that I need Hattie, and he doesn't tease me about it {that much} anymore.

My Mom used to joke that she didn't mind the fact that I carried it around with me almost everywhere for the first 10 years of my life, so long as it was gone by my Senior Prom. Bahahahaha. Sorry, Mom.

I've only ever been without Hattie for one night a few times in my life. So when we packed up everything in preparation for our move last week and I didn't remember seeing Hattie anywhere, I went on a rampage though all of our suitcases and boxes that were not already loaded in our moving pods. I couldn't find him. I almost had a nervous breakdown. Not just because he was missing; it was the straw that broke the camel's back. With the stress of the move and my maybe-depression, I didn't think I could handle the absence of my security blanket.

After we arrived at our new place in Connecticut last Monday, I threw a couple loads of laundry in the washer. Moved it over to the dryer. When I opened the dryer after it was done, Hattie fell out of the dryer and landed at my feet. How did I miss that he was in our pile of dirty clothes that we had been carrying around with us throughout the whole move? I had looked there the night of my rampage. I didn't see him when I was loading the washer or transferring the clothes to the dryer. Yet there he was, now, staring back at me.

I took this as a sign. Here we were in our new home, and everything was going to be okay. Hattie and part of my confidence were back. I am embarrassed to admit that the misplacement of this piece of {completely falling apart} cloth for two weeks resulted in a tiny hole inside of me, but it did, and I am glad that it is no longer there.
 

Hattie: my right hand man since 1984

Yep, I know it's pathetic to be almost 28 and still sleep with this bad boy every night, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I know what you're thinking, Mom, so long as it is gone by the time Carina goes to her Senior Prom, right? ;)