I'd Like One American Girl Mom-Doll, Please

"You have to be kidding me," I said.  "There’s no way you found the white wardrobe in stock in the store.  I checked online, and there wasn’t a single one in stock anywhere around here.  Do you know how lucky you are?  There’s no way it’ll get here in time if I order it online unless I pay a fortune in shipping."

By this time, my four-year-old had hung up his coat, washed his hands, and made his way—solo—to his preschool classroom.  My daughter was squirming in my arms, pulling my face to look at hers. 

"I want to go home.  Time to go home, Mommy."

"Have you seen the jelly sandals? And the Mary Janes? I have a few pairs coming—and they are so cute.  They’ll go with almost anything.  So versatile."

Then I remembered.  "Wait—wait! And you’re sure the clothes at Michael’s work? How is that possible? Do they really manage to keep anything in stock? Does anyone know about this?"  I was starting to sweat.  Why wasn’t I whispering? There were tons of moms around me for God’s sake.  Someone might hear us--and beat me there.

"I’m not sure."  My friend shifted her baby to her other hip.  "All I know is that I heard the Target shoes don’t always fit but their clothes work.  And some of their things are really cute.  And, Amy, the white wardrobe—it’s awesome.  I couldn’t be happier.  And did I tell you we got the pet dog carrier online for only eight bucks?! Seriously."

"Eight dollars?  Holy crap.  Eight dollars?"

The number rattled around in my head on the way to the car, and, of course by the time I could check it out for myself: sold out.

I already had white tennis shoes, a jogging suit coming.  And I found and ordered the jeans and cute tweed jacket with jeans outfit yesterday.  Was that enough?   What about bedtime—I needed pajamas.  How could I forget? Oh my gosh--she can’t wear street clothes to bed.  I chuckled—apparently out loud—at my carelessness.

"What’s funny, Mommy? Did you hear a joke?  Are we going to the grocery store?  I want a cookie," my two-year-old called from the back seat. "Are we going to Maddy's kindergarten today?"

"No, sweetheart.  There's no joke.  And we’re going right home. Mommy's got some work to do on the computer, and then we have some errands to run.  We'll pick Maddy up from school later, after lunch and your rest time."

My cell phone rang.  "Honey, you're not going to believe what I found at Chriskindlmarkt last night. One stand had a ton of accessories and the most beautiful clothes.  Beautiful.  I picked up a nightgown and an adorable dress.  She'll love it."  

How did my mom always know exactly what I--she--needed? Incredible. The pajama problem solved!

"Awesome, Mom.  Thanks so much.  Let me call you back--I just pulled up to the house."

I sprinted to the computer.  Three emails in a row from my mother-in-law, subject: doll trunk.  My heart raced.  Amy, check out these trunks and let me know which one you like best for Maddy.

Ohmygosh.  The trunk.  The trunk! My in-laws were going to take care of the trunk! Now we--she--will have a place to store her clothes and travel with her doll!  My mother-in-law was awesome!  I wanted to dance! I wanted to sing! 

This was going to be my--I mean, my daughter's--most amazing Christmas ever.

This is an original DC Metro Moms post. 

Secretly dreaming that Santa will her her very own American Girl Doll with all of the super-cool accessories, Amy M. can be found at teachmama, scrambling to remember to buy her two other kids--and family members--gifts that don't have to do with her 6-year-old's new 18-inch doll.