Today, I was away from Mason for the longest I've ever been away from him in a twenty-four hour period. I went to work from eleven thirty until two thirty, came home, then went shopping with my mom at four. I got home around eight thirty and Mason was already in bed. I feel like I haven't gotten to see him all day and wanted to run in there and wake him up with a big hug and a new toy as soon as I got in the door. Of course, I didn't. Babies need their sleep.
Anyway, I got him an outfit for his Christmas/six month pictures that we're having done on Thursday and am super excited about my find. I was picturing how ridiculously cute he's going to look when he's sitting on a reindeer in his little Gymboree clearance sweater vest and turtleneck when I decided to do something I never do: shop for myself. I'm now the proud owner of two new pairs of jeans and three new sweaters.
And the guilt is killing me. I never really thought twice about spending money on myself before Mason, but now I just can't stop dwelling on it. It's doesn't take much to understand that the hundred or so dollars I spent would be much better off sitting in Mason's savings account collecting interest, but I'm trying really hard not to beat myself up over this. In order to get past the initial shock of my little shopping spree and refrain from having some sort of mental breakdown, I'm trying to distract myself by looking at the pictures I took of my happy little guy before work this morning. Mason has learned a new expression. He puts his top lip over his bottom lip, tries to smile, and gets this:
I can only imagine that this is the face he's going to be making in all of his pictures on Thursday. But hey, who wouldn't want to get a Christmas card in the mail with that beautiful baby inside? And you know, I'm pretty sure that's a 'Mom, go buy yourself a sweater' face.
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