Wednesday, October 21, 2009

That's my bag, baby.

There's a lot to do to get ready to bring home a new baby. First you probably ought to get the kid a place to sleep. And it's a good idea to dig out his big brother's baby clothes from the attic, before he comes home and charms you with his first blowout. (Adorable!) If you're a show-off, you can wash the hand-me-downs before you put them in the drawer because it's been five years since those little onesies have seen the light of day.

But don't go too crazy, because there's lots more to do and you're running out of time. In fact, you'd better get started on the MOST IMPORTANT PROJECT OF ALL: Your diaper bag. Sure, you could use one of the old ones lying around from previous babies. And you probably have a whole closet full of assorted satchels and back packs handed out like candy at all of the professional meetings your husband attends. But don't bother. There's no happiness down that road; only disappointment. You'll spend the next six months switching bags for every outing because none of them are quite right.

What you really need is a purse big enough to use as a diaper bag, or a diaper bag cute enough to use as a purse. And since you have that ridiculous stash of fabric hoarded at closeout sales and swindled from little old ladies, you should probably make it yourself. And you should probably use this tutorial because, well, look at it. It's perfect!

And when you're done it should look like this.

Now that it's finished, force your husband to admire your handiwork. Insist that he inspect each compartment individually. Point out the handy key fob.

Pay no attention when he observes that you've filled all the pockets with your own stuff, and there's barely any room for baby gear. Distract him with lies: tell him that you picked out that manly chocolaty brown color for him -- so he could carry the bag (and the baby) with pride all the way to the changing table!

When he's finished admiring it, wait until he leaves the room before you kiss the bag. He's supportive of your hobbies, but being pregnant can only explain so much crazy. The rest is all on you.

And of course, by "you" I mean "me."

And now, if you'll excuse me, I have an enormous pile of onesies to wash. And a diaper bag to smooch.