Male Shopping Syndrome

Before I launch into yet another saga about how my husband does not understand my severe nesting urges, I must give credit where credit is due.  On Friday, I completely forgot that it was our five year anniversary until Jon arrived home with beautiful white roses.  I have been feeling so frustrated and helpless, doing little but ordering him around with unrelenting demands and constructing to-do lists since I returned home from the hospital.  In his efforts to appease me, he has kept the kitchen immaculate, has kept up with all of our laundry, and has been following all of my anal-retentive house rules that are forever drilled in his head.  Now, to entertain my loyal readers as well as document a typical marital moment, read on....

After my morning to-do list was completed, I sent Jon to purchase monkey bedding, wall borders, a window valance, amongst other important items (diapers, burp cloths, receiving blankets) at both Buy Buy Baby and Babies R Us.  When I initially completed my registry, I did not plan on being on bed rest and did not think it would be problematic that these two stores are located in completely opposite directions (one in Aventura and the other in Coral Springs).  Jon, who carefully calculates a systematic, pragmatic approach to most things in life did not think that it was logical to visit both stores in one day.  Whereas I, on the other hand, tend to be slightly impulsive, energetic, and would have gladly traveled to two opposite ends of the universe to go shopping.

Our disagreement resulted in a slight bicker-fest that left both of us feeling quite exasperated and frustrated.  Then, in Jon's haste, he looked up directions to Toys R Us, not Babies R Us and had to travel an even further distance.  When he finally reached his destination, he suffered a bout of male-shopping-syndrome, in which he was suddenly overcome with disorientation and panic.  Between the fluorescent lights, pregnant women, screaming infants, and baby paraphernalia , Jon's internal calculator went haywire.  In a frantic phone call, he relayed that the store was too crazy/dirty, the sales people unhelpful, and he was unable to locate a single item on our carefully constructed list of "immediate things for baby".  He eventually returned home empty handed, with the exception of an additional car seat base, in a beat up returned box (which happened to be on the "eventual things for baby" list).

Jon and I have varying expectations on the immediate needs of a newborn.  Logically, we need the bare minimum to maintain Baby J's survival--food (aka my breasts), shelter, clothes, and diapers.  While I believe that the nursery should be completed before we bring home baby, Jon's number one priority is not picking out monkey bedding or wall borders.  After complaining to my mom yet again about my incapacitated state, she courageously volunteered to be our personal nursery interior designer and is now scouring the universe for all things monkey (although I may be tempting my mother to flee the country, I sincerely hope that she does not embark on a trip to Costa Rica at the present moment).

With everything else, I chalk this up as another lesson in relinquishing complete control.  That being expressed, I am still saddened by not being able to nest or decorate Baby J's room to my liking.  As Jon said this morning, my immediate priority is incubating baby while his is taking care of his pregnant wife.  So, from my eternal stance on the couch, I continue to look at the white roses and view them as little white flags of surrender....