Yes. It's a diaper. But it's not just any diaper. It's a Pampers Swaddler, a teeny tiny little diaper - NOW WITH A MOISTURE STRIP! The same brand of diaper my hospital put on my baby girls' butts for the first time, the same brand of diaper that covered by little girls' tushies for at least the first six months of their lives. I looked at this diaper, I oohed and ahhed (as did the girls), and then I felt that familiar pang of The Baby Fever kick into high gear.
Look at it. Just look at it! Look how little this diaper is. For the love of Pete, it nearly fits in the palm of my hand! Much like I did the first time I opened up a pack of Newborn Swaddlers when I was pregnant with Punkin, I had the overwhelming urge to compare diaper sizes. I immediately ran to Punkin's room and grabbed one of her gargantun diapers. This side by side comparison is too much. I mean, look how small and petite and precious that newborn diaper looks compared to the massive size 6 diaper of Punkin. I know my baby is no longer my "baby"; this right here is proof of that. And that single newborn diaper? I'll tell you right now, it's enough to send my ovaries into overdrive (pardon to the male readers who were not counting on a reference to my female reproductive organs this early in the morning. Or ever).
As if I hadn't totured myself enough for five minutes, I turned to put Punkin's diaper back and saw this picture taunting me from the table.
This is Punkin at two months old, just about the time she was outgrowing her newborn Swaddlers. Oh, the torture. And then because I was in a glutton-for-punishment kind of mood, I started going through old photos on our computer and came across this piece of nostalgia, Shortcake at a few weeks old (no doubt wearing Pampers Swaddlers herself).
Excuse the massive scratch on her cheek. Girlfriend had a serious nail that I was too fearful as a first time mother to properly trim, thus resulting in the superficial self-inflicted wound seen here.
Why do I do this to myself? Why do I torture myself so? I'll never know. What I do know is that if I see any of you in next 48 hours and if you happen to have a smooshy, sweet smelling, delicious newborn with you, please. Please, for the love of God and the safety of all involved, turn and run as fast as you can. There's no telling what I might do in the midst of The Baby Fever.