Baby gear I would like to buy despite the fact that it is overpriced, impractical and unnecessary

At the risk of sounding crass and materialistic, I tell you this:

I like nice things.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), I seem to have inherited my mom's post-Depression-era frugality. For the most part, I buy from IKEA, Craigslist, and consignment shops. When I do buy something "good", I shop around and buy it to last. And I can usually control myself and keep from going off half-cocked, credit cards in hand, screaming "Chaaaaaaaarge it!" like Wilma Flintstone and Betty Rubble.

Having a baby has tested me, though. Mercilessly.

Oh, there've been some moments of weakness. A couple of thirty-dollar sleepers. A sixty-dollar baby blanket. A six-hundred-dollar rocking chair. But let me tell you about all the stuff I ALMOST bought. (My hope is that this will act as a sort of confessional. Your job is to absolve me and perhaps assign me an act of contrition.)

First, there's the Svan high chair. It's almost like a piece of sculpture, and oh, how it sings to my mid-century-modern soul. But it also costs three hundred bucks. So... no.

Next, the forty-dollar organic cotton flannel crib sheets. Mmmm... I wish you all could have touched these. So. Ridiculously. Soft. I am a total bedding junkie. We have more sheets, pillows, and duvets than any house could possibly ever need. I could have gone hog-wild over baby bedding, but refrained. Good thing, too, since the little bugger has conned his way into our bed. His crib is now just a glorified playpen.

I almost had my husband convinced that we needed the Oeuf baby lounger (a bargain at a mere $125). Then I let him talk me out of it. Good thing, too. The website may have touted it as a "nursery necessity" but Sam would have begged to differ. My boy doesn't lounge. He leans. Forward. On the rare occasion that he falls asleep in his stroller, he does so in a keeled-over position that tests the limits of the patented five-point restraint system and makes passersby suspect we slipped him some roofies.

How about this: a thousand-dollar Bugaboo stroller. Just writing that I realize afresh how crazy it sounds. A THOUSAND DOLLARS. For something that doesn't even have a motor. Just aluminum tubing, canvas, and some tires. And do you know our sole burning reason for wanting this stroller? Because it's orange. (Don't laugh. It's the same reason we bought our truck.) Fortunately, common sense prevailed and we took home a sensible navy-blue Zooper... which was overpriced at half the cost of the Bugaboo, but felt like a bargain comparatively.

Did I hear you gasp when you read that I dropped six hundred bucks on a rocker? Want to see the thousand-dollar one (not including the matching ottoman) I passed on, even though I loved it so? Feast your eyes on the Nurseryworks Sleepytime Rocker. (Maybe I'm just a sucker for the alluring names these baby-gear pimps give their products?)

So you see? By not buying any of these things, I've actually saved almost $2500... savings I can use to rationalize the purchase of the thirty-dollar woollen mukluks I just picked up for Sam.

Who says having a baby is expensive? Having a baby isn't expensive. Having a baby and free time is expensive.