Accessories

It started with slouch socks, gold plated best friend necklaces and scrunchiis. Somwhere along the way, it morphed into Tiffany toggle bracelets, satin Prada purses and stilettos.

Accessories have followed me for a lifetime.

As a rule, I am not big into decoration. My jewelry is always meaningful and generally minimal. I sleep and bathe in my necklace and ring, both designed and gifted by my very gifted husband. I admire women who change purses and jewelry as regularly as their underwear. I could never do this. I am too picky and generally running too late to wonder which bag my wallet and metrocard are in.

Accessories can be burdensome, both emotionally and physically. When my husband got down on one knee and offered me his life and a diamond, it was immediately intermingled with an apology. "If you don't like it, we'll exchange it" he said as he anxiously pushed the ring on my finger.

Accessories can cause second guessing and worry -- about style, about loss. What does it say about you? It never ends, the pressure to accessorize our world. I find this maddening in motherhood. There is always something, an extra, that I can be purchasing to better my daughter's life. The stores are teeming with extras that appear the same except for that all important nuance that promises to change both of our lives. It's big business, and it's easy to get caught up. Not because I fear that anyone is looking or judging, but because I am afraid that I might be depriving her.

And then I watch her play with a tupperware bowl for 45 minutes, and I am reminded that the extras in life are just that...sometimes meaningful, often disappointing and generally disposable.