You Have Got To Be Kidding Me: A Baby Doll Story

Back when we lived in Munich, I developed a bit of a past time going to yard and consignment sales.  They did them on a large scale - entire neighborhoods at a time, for example.  The thrill of the hunt, plus the near certainty of getting adorable euro-fabulous kids clothes for cents on the dollar (Euro cents on the Euro?), and throw in the fact that I would typically go sans Edie and with my friend Lara, it was a delightful way to pass a Saturday morning.  A big draw for me was toys.  Oh, German toys.  So lovely.  So wooden.  So praktisch.  And so spendy.  Used was the way to go.  At one I found a teeny tiny baby doll.  I hadn't been looking for one.  Edie was only just over a year old.  But it was very cute, and the perfect size and feel for a little one to enjoy.  I bought it on a whim, as one does when the price tag is 1 or 2 €.  

As life would have it, Edie loved her doll.  She was just learning to speak then, and so it was simply "baby," which remained its name for sometime.  Baby was taken everywhere.  At 15 or so months, I remember seeing her "nurse" her baby, soothe her baby, and rock her to sleep.  When Edie got a little older, she loved to take the baby's romper off, and then hassle me loudly until I put it back on, so she could do it again and again.  During my pregnancy, baby became even more important to Edie.  With all this talk of my new baby, Edie began to treat hers with even more care and concern.  At some point, the baby got a new name: Bow-Oh.  I know it sounds weird and isn't a name in the traditional sense, but there were a few months there when Edie invented names and words for things she didn't know, and though she does it less these days, preferring to name things based on people or characters in stories, Bow-Oh stuck.  

Some time after Eli was born, Bow-Oh disappeared.  Edie asked after her all of the time.  Because she was so special to Edie, I was very careful never to let her take Bow-Oh out of the house or car, and if we did (as sometimes the fight was just not mine to win), I was very, very careful.  I lost two special "friends" as a kid - a stuffed dog and a Cabbage Patch doll.  I still remember way too much about the ordeals.  I did not want Edie to go through this if I could avoid it.  Nevertheless, somewhere in the chaos of baby brother's arrival, it seemed as though Bow-Oh truly went missing.

On several occasions over the past few months, I have gotten serious about finding her.  I have even been quite harsh on myself, thinking "Come ON.  It is in the house somewhere.  Quit your laziness and FIND THIS DOLL."  I've spent precious hours, when I could've been resting for once, instead tearing up the joint in her pursuit. Though thorough, I've tried to be strategic.  One of the adorable complaints I lodge at my husband is that when I ask him to help me find something, he opts for the completely random approach and then calls defeat. Honey, please, I cannot find my wallet anywhere and I am so late! Can you help?? [Will checks freezer, toilet tank, and bottle of ibuprofen.]  Sorry. I can't find it anywhere either.  I went through the entirety of her toy closet, nooks and crannies I know she favors, every millimeter of the floor of the cars.  I even sent a sad-sack email to all of the moms I know in Nashville to see if Bow-Oh had turned up somewhere.  Nothing.

For a couple weeks, it seemed like she'd forgotten about Bow-Oh.  But, even though she has not seen this doll in months and months at this point, she began asking about Bow-Oh in earnest again last week.  It was getting depressing.  Did some body take Bow-Oh, mom? Is Bow-Oh coming home, mom? Can we look for her? Yeesh.

The decision was made to get her a new baby.  She has a couple dolls, but no baby dolls that meet the needs that Bow-Oh filled.  But still it was not an easy decision.  The kid is ... particular. I had to spend two weeks inoculating her to the eventuality of needing to switch sneakers because her current ones were getting too small.  It started with showing her the new ones online.  See Edie? Aren't they nice? * Yeah. ... But I am gonna wear MY sneakers. * Ok.  But your feet are growing. And soon you will need bigger ones. * Ok.  But today I am going to wear MINE. * But soon, these. * ... No. I like mine. I recently found out at parent-teacher conferences that it was upsetting Edie so much that her teacher spent one hour a day with the Kindergarteners, that Edie had to accompany the teacher so as to avoid an hour long meltdown.  Edie does not like change.  So our question was: would a new baby be awesome, or awesomely traumatic?

I had an idea of the brand of doll that hers was, but after much detective work, I could not find an exact replica.  There would be no way to convince her that Bow-Oh had returned. The stakes were high.  We ordered a doll, got it, but it was wrong.  Right face.  Too big.  I contacted a friend whose son had a similar doll.  She wised me up to the correct model.  First doll sent back.  Second doll, ordered.  I get an email saying that my shipment would be delayed because of Hurricane Sandy.  This both put things in perspective and made me impatient. Go figure.

Now, I get a shipping notice.  And so I begin to plant the seed.  The next time she asks about Baby Bow-Oh, I finally concede that Bow-Oh isn't coming home.  But before she is totally crushed, I gingerly offer that there are lots of baby dolls who need mamas.  She looks interested.  In fact, I say, the mail man helps these baby dolls find mamas.  And he just told me that there was a baby doll named Calin who needed a mama. (Calin is the name the company gave the doll.  I did not dig too deep here. Though I failed to consider that she still can't say "L" so this is actually a very difficult name for Edie to say.  But it's done now.  No going back.)  After I said this, Edie's eyes widened and she said - hand to God - Maybe I could be her mom?! Oh I'd be patting myself on the back for quite some time! Yes! I replied. That is a great idea! I will let the mail man know.  So we've been talking about Calin for a few days now.  Things seemed to be going great.  I even made a bed for her, planning to unwrap her and lay her in the bed, leaving her momentarily on the front porch for Edie to find.  I am a little bit great.

From a cardboard box, the dolly bed was forged.

Calin is set to arrive today.  Edie knows this, as Calin-fever has been raging around here, and details have had to be offered to keep her sated.  Edie is at school today, so while she was out, I was going to whip up a simple little pillow and mattress for the bed, and voila!  And then, on my way out the door for a walk with Eli and the dogs, I scurry through the house to grab some poop bags from the right drawer of the entryway table, and upon finding none, I chance open the left drawer - the drawer nothing, nothing, is in - and BAM.  Oh. Hello, Bow-Oh.

The smuggest baby doll I have ever seen.

So, what to do?  Oh, decision of decisions! Throw out or donate beloved, sweet, rummage sale Bow-Oh? And stick with Calin and the lies I've spun? Take the chance that Calin actually will become special to her - something that cannot be taken for granted? Or somehow convince Edie that Calin found a different mom, rendering her totally confused but perhaps ultimately happier? 

Or maybe, just maybe, I could get a life and think about important things? 

I don't know! WHY, BOW-OH, WHY DID YOU FORSAKE US FOR SO LONG? 

(Is there an election or something this week, btw?)