The Lure of Stuff

Just back from IKEA. Went for a 50 dollar high chair (you know the one, everyone has it – its cheap, simple and cleanable). Came back with high chair in the wrong colour (white was unavailable); one soft toy soccerball; one train set (pretty sure it’s for ages 3 and up – just two and a half years to go…); one toddler cup, bowl, plate set; a set of plastic cups; a set of plastic bowls; a set of plastic plates; two side tables (black and white); and some plug inserts. Oh, and an 18-piece dinner set.

I don’t know what came over me. Usually I am anti-stuff. While others love IKEA, I tend to be on the hate end of the spectrum, regarding it as a necessary evil. Who would have thought with this attitude I would find myself seriously considering purchasing a bottle of concentrated blueberry syrup cordial or a frog shaped plastic bib?

While others tell me they stockpiled random assortments of baby products before their little one arrived, I was relatively restrained, going only for the basics. It did mean a couple of desperate dashes post baby (once for a breast pump and once for a Baby Bjorn – both worthwhile purchases) but on the whole I was quite pleased with myself –one might even say smugly so - for being sensible about my baby’s requirements on arrival. It’s not the excessive spending that worried me so much as a feeling that environmentally we as a society need to overcome our addiction to stuff; and that personally, a whole lot of unnecessary clutter was going to send me bonkers.

So what has come over me? Since Billy was born I have made several rash purchases, probably chief amongst them a pair of baby sneakers (they were only $8, alright!) and the fluffy toy soccer ball purchased today (we already have a fluffy toy football… why didn’t we just get a real soccer ball that might entertain him more than a few months??).

Perhaps it’s the amount of time I spend in shops now I am on maternity leave providing opportunities to become bewitched with stuff. Perhaps it’s the allure of itty bitty baby things that remind me of my little boy and make me want for him. Or perhaps it’s just that consumerism is a demon and I am just as possessed as everyone else.