When the Fed Ex guy noticed Viv’s new tooth, it occurred to me that I might have a problem with online shopping.

It started innocently enough, when I was pregnant and on bed rest.  Immobilized, the only way I could finish outfitting the nursery was to let my fingers do the browsing.  When the baby came, I was sprung from the couch, but not necessarily the house.  These days, if I need something and the choices are:

(A) Time an outing perfectly between naps and feedings, pack the diaper bag, layer up the baby, strap her into the dreaded car seat, sing Wheels on the Bus loudly to keep her from (or drown out her) screaming, find parking, find quarters, smush squirmy baby into a stroller, find a ramp, find an elevator, then frantically search the store praying I will not leave empty handed and have to repeat the entire process in another store, or…

(B) Buy now with 1-Click!

I choose 1-Click.

Things I have bought on Amazon (my favorite, for the 2-day shipping): pasta, pregnancy tests, peppermint tea, a Panini grill, and a DVD of the 1979 made-for-TV Danielle Steel classic, The Promise.   (You can totally borrow it.)

Packages appear so frequently that sometimes I forget what I ordered.  It’s like my birthday every day.  Pampers overnight diapers size 3?  I really wanted those!  Thanks, me.  You shouldn’t have.

Dave does not appreciate the daily arrival of the boxes.   When he comes home from work, the last thing he wants to see is an empty carton.  (Viv, however, loves them like ice cream.)

It’s not about the money I spent, which might only have been $2.99 for an apple-shaped teether (there’s an idea for a Price is Right game here, I think?).   He’s upset because we have no room in any of our cabinets, drawers or shelves for anything new.  He thinks I’m a hoarder.   Not the kind on TV where the health department has to go spelunking for expired cats.   I’m more of a sentimental, “how can I possibly throw out my tap dance recital costume, summer camp letters or unicorn sticker collection?” saver of things.

Sometimes I actually run the boxes out to the recycling before Dave gets home from work.  When I’m sneaking to the dumpster, I feel much like Lucy trying to outsmart Ricky, and imagine myself in black and white.   If Dave caught me in the act, he would have every reason to be suspicious since I literally never take out the trash.  I do a lot of things around here – laundry, dishes, Dave – but not that.  Too aerobic.

I don’t know why I feel so guilty.  Shopping by computer may be a modern invention, but home delivery is old school.  Long before the Fed Ex guy, there was the ice man and the milk man.  Essential items (for making shakes) have been arriving on doorsteps for generations.

Like my grandma before me, today I received a package with very important contents:

With a little girl in the house, you can never have too many cat puppets.  Right?

I may end up on Hoarders after all.