Have you ever been smitten by something that made no sense?
The kind of smitten where you see something and every logical thought you have says that it’s not a good fit for you, not a good use of money, and yet .... and yet.
That was my relationship with a woven wrap I first saw about a year ago. It was a one off, never to be produced, money can’t buy, thanks anyway, move along please.
My heart would flutter every time I saw a photo: A teaser here, a glimpse there, and suddenly there was a rumor that a handful would be made.
To go around all the people who had fallen in love with it just like me. The chances of scoring one (because of course it’s entirely normal to talk about wraps in the same vocabulary as drugs) were slim to none.
I kept a little seed of hope in my heart though; enough to make me set my alarm and crawl out of bed in the early hours of the morning. Enough to sit shivering in the dark, in front of my laptop, waiting to see if I might be fast enough to buy one of these unicorns.
I had even recruited a stranger to help me, a stalking buddy, but as fast as we were, others were faster and we both came away empty handed.
My heart was heavy.
I told myself it wasn't important, I was blessed to have some beautiful wraps and you can carry your baby in anything, the fabric doesn't matter.
I added my name to the list of people “In Search of Klee,” not quite able to let go.
I consoled myself with logic, it was too thick, too beastly, too much wrap for me. It was a good thing I hadn't bought one. It was a waste of money.
Months later I received a message: I have a Klee if you would like it?
Would I like it?
What about logic? What if it’s too much wrap for me? What if I hate it? What if it’s a scam? Think of the other things I could do with the money.
I took the chance anyway.
There were weeks of waiting, of checking on-line tracking and muttering angrily that it shouldn't take 5 DAYS FOR A PARCEL TO TRAVEL 300 MILES.
And one day there was a box outside my door.
I ripped open the packaging and there it was, luminous in my hands, heavy, solid and utterly defying logic.
It had precisely none of the characteristics I thought I wanted in a wrap and yet as soon as I used it to tie Miss Olive to my chest, it felt utterly and completely ... right.
So why the obsession with these beautiful pieces of cloth?
My poetic soul tells me that just like the tying together of hands during a wedding ceremony. We yearn for beauty to bind us to our babies; our precious, beloved babies.
If you think of it like that, is it surprising that we look for cloth that articulates who we are and how we feel?
There is a film being made exploring the appeal of those rare wraps woven from unicorn eyelashes and pixie farts and costing as much as my first car. It will, no doubt, try to apply logic to something that most normal people will not see as logical.
Let’s be honest: It will try to apply logic when most people think you have lost your damn mind.
I used to be one of those people. But I'm all about the learning, and if years of overpriced Valentines roses have taught me anything, it’s that there is rarely any logic to how we demonstrate our love.
Mum, activist and parenting junkie. Passionate about empowering women and living a good life with my family. http://www.maybediaries.com/
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