Spoiled

The house I grew up in, a few miles south of San Antonio, did not have air conditioning. Not even a window unit. Or a ceiling fan. We propped the windows open and sprayed Off on ourselves to defend against the mosquitoes coming in through the torn screens. During the hottest months, I would take a cool bath before bed (we didn’t have a shower) and put my little oscillating fan directly on me, hoping I would fall asleep before I started to sweat. We used three gas space heaters in the winter. You had to stand right in front of them to get any warmth, and then you burned up for being too close. I slept in layers of clothes under layers of blankets for the few really cold weeks each year. During the most uncomfortable nights, when I was too hot or too cold to sleep, I would repeat the solemn vow I had made to myself so many times I knew for certain it was true: I will not live like this when I grow up.

So here I am, in my large lovely home, with not one but TWO fully functioning air conditioning and heating units. And I worry almost non-stop that Turtle and Monkey will be spoiled rotten. I mean, they have their own bathroom for goodness sakes. With a shower. At 12 months old, they have already eaten at a restaurant more times than I did in the first 18 years of my life. And it is never too hot or too cold in their room.

They also have every accoutrement known to baby, given to them by loving and generous family members. When I registered for infant car seats, I decided I wanted them to have the “Lotus Red” Graco Snugrides, the expensive ones that could only be purchased from the local specialty store. No problem. I decided they also needed a double jogging stroller, but it had to be a BOB Revolution Duallie because that was the best one, and only the burnt orange BOB would do. Check. For their first birthday, I really wanted them to have a red Radio Flyer wagon. And if it’s not too much trouble, how about the souped-up one with a canopy and a storage compartment and 4 cupholders? But of course. And you know what else they need for their birthday party? A couple of those Zutano outfits, you know, the ones you can only get at baby boutiques? Certainly. And they just have to have some sneakers for the park. Ok, how about two pairs of the cutest leather Nikes on earth?

After the girls' birthday, I surveyed their booty. I played with every new toy, inspected the laces of every new shoe, and admired every new coordinated outfit. I looked out the window at the live oak trees in our front yard and imagined pulling the girls in their new wagon down our long driveway and around our beautiful hill country neighborhood. And I realized that there is already someone in our house who has become spoiled. But it isn’t Monkey, and it isn’t Turtle. It's a little girl living her grown-up life at the perfect temperature.