Sleeves and Legs

I washed my first load of baby clothes yesterday. Even someone like me who can't think properly notices the significance of that event. I got out the Dreft, that mysterious pink bottle of laundry detergent that promises not to poison your baby. Two things occur to me about Dreft -- one, I find it an amazing tactic of marketing or cultural zeitgeist or something that as a single girl you can go to age 36 or so without even *thinking* about getting pregnant, and yet you somehow know that Dreft exists, and exactly what it's for, and the moment the baby clothes appear, you dutifully go off to buy some. Two, if we need Dreft not to poison the baby, why do we put up with poisoning *ourselves* with all that other detergent?

Anyway, the Dreft came out (now, can you use Downy or Bounce sheets with Dreft, or does that put the poison right back in? I decided it did, and went without), and the huge load of clothes, towels, and blankets we got at the shower are now clean. As a matter of fact, most of them are still waiting to be folded. It's an amazing thing, folding baby clothes that are actually meant for your baby, when that baby is still inside you just kicking and dancing around. For one thing, they're so many different sizes, and it's shocking to think of how quickly she will grow. For another -- how do you fold those stretchies with legs & feet? I don't think I've ever folded something that had both sleeves & legs! The clothes are all covered with flowers, or duckies, or other pastel renditions of things that make life happy and soft. I'm all for it. I feel no need to buy overly trendy clothes in grown-up colors, at least not yet. I am still enjoying the illusion that I can make her entire world a cushy, pastel safety zone for the rest of her life. Why introduce black into the equation?

I guess I'd better stop stalling and go fold baby clothes, even though my entire torso is on fire with muscle-spasm and loosening-ligament pain. Well, maybe some Tylenol and some apple pie first -- then I'll be fortified to sit on the Dutalier nursing stool for 30 minutes while I fold tiny, legged outfits. By the way, Abby says hi -- that is, either she's waving hello or she's practicing her sun salutations. 5 weeks and two days to go!