*Photo above what I wish I would be looking like on Easter Sunday, decked out in Brock Collection. (Incidentally, this $80 blouse reminds me a lot of Brock Collection and I think I need it for summer.)
As a general proposition, I am hyper-organized — potentially to a fault. I am a prolific list-writer, a curfew-abider, and a wake-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-worrying-about-logistics-of-events-over-a-month-away type. Even as a student, I tended to complete assignments well before they were due. I am the opposite of a procrastinator — an anticipator, perhaps. Motherhood has exacerbated these tendencies. I had a mild heart attack when I realized I’d forgotten to pack mini’s sippy cup of water on a rainy day excursion a few months back. It was the first time I’d ever forgotten a cup for her in my two years of motherhood — gasp. Such an unimportant and in some ways overdue negligence (and, in New York at least, Duane Reades with overpriced sippy cups crop up every few blocks, so it was truly a non-issue), but I still occasionally, frustratingly, think about it. My sterling track record with regards to sippy-cup-bearing is not to suggest that I believe I am perfect, of course. I think that in many ways a proclivity towards planning and organization bespeak a neurotic discomfort with the spontaneous, a cloying will to control. I find it difficult to rally myself for last-minute plans. But — I didn’t have time to plan an outfit! But — the ingredients we have for a roast chicken dinner are waiting in the fridge! But — mini’s not wearing a coordinated bow! But, but, but –– Even I see these protestations as unbecoming. Life is messy; life will throw you curveballs. There’s elegance in accepting what floats my way, and threat in convincing myself that if I only plan for contingencies A-D, I will remain unflappable.
After my musings on muscling through a difficult time, a sweet reader wrote to share the following sentiment:
“God gives you the grace you need for the situation — not for your imagination.”
Wow. A powerful reminder of the futility of fretting over the unknown, and of leaning into faith in the moment.
All that said.
I have ticked off dozens and dozens of to-dos on my prep-for-baby list, including organizing a little gift bag of treats for mini to open when we are at the hospital:
+A Maileg little brother mouse to add to her collection.
+A few of her favorite activities: Melissa & Doug puffy sticker sets and a new coloring book.
+Books on becoming a new sister: this, this, this, and this. (These last two were thoughtful gifts from members of my book club, who all surprised me with new books for micro’s library at our last convening!)
+New “Little People” figurines including a new baby for her beloved dollhouse (she still spends a couple of hours playing with this every single day).
I know this is overkill. I can’t help myself.
Oddly, amidst all of this planning, and even though I did order her Easter outfit, I more or less forgot about mini’s easter basket until now. Below, some last minute finds if you’re in my boat:
+Individually-wrapped fun-flavored marshmallows.
+Wind-up bunny and chick. (A classic.)
+This egg set was a big hit last year.
+Carrot teether for itty bitties.
Also, a couple of last-minute finds for your mini Easter outfit: a bunny-embroidered sleeper for a newborn, this vintage sleepsack from RealReal (swoon!!!),a classic smocked one-piece for a baby boy, a gingham romper for a baby girl, and for a traditional but not too Easter-y Easter look for a brother and sister: this for a boy, this for a girl.
I am essentially the shape of a bowling ball right now, and I ended up buying this blue gingham maternity dress (actually impressed with the linen-esque quality of the fabric), which I’ll wear with my Pam Munson tote. Do I need these to finish the look? (Yes.)