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Attack of the Beanie Babies  
by Cheryl Gochnauer, Homebodies.org

When I went garage saling last week, I was amazed to see all the marked-down Beanie Babies. I'm old enough to remember when Beanies sparked mania across our cities, and it's a little sad to see them tossed haphazardly in cardboard crates on strangers' driveways.

Those who know me well are grinning as they read that last line. They remember how hard I fought my Beanie addiction - right up until Pugsley won me over. But I'm getting ahead of the story. . . .

Let's flash back a few years, and re-live "Attack of the Beanie Babies", a Homebodies column I wrote in 1997:

I refuse to give in to every whim that presents itself. I didn't adopt a Cabbage Patch doll; refused to blow a fuse over Buzz Lightyear; managed to ignore Tickle Me Elmo.

Amused, I watched as fellow moms collected all 101 Dalmatians and overdosed on Happy Meals in order to get every Teeny Beanie. Those little pebble-stuffed animals seemed harmless enough.

But then Beanie Babies took on a life of their own. My friends -- grown women, mind you -- were going bonkers for Beanies. One lady waited in line for three hours to purchase four (the limit). Another ran up long distance bills, calling out-of-town Hallmarks for leads on the elusive critters.

Teachers passed out Beanie Baby rosters and kids logged onto the Beanie Baby Website, with full-color photos and stats on each innocent-looking entry.

Everywhere, from grocery store to hardware shop, I noticed mountains of beanbag dolls, all (in my novice eyes) as cute as could be. "What's the deal?" I asked my daughter, Karen. "There's all kinds of Beanie Babies around."

"Those aren't the REAL Beanies, Mom. See, the real ones have a little red heart with a poem."

"These have poems. And names, too," I persisted.

"They're all right, I guess," Karen sidetracked, but I knew she wasn't convinced.

It really didn't matter to me, anyhow. I thought the whole thing was stupid, and so I shrugged it off and got on with my life.

Karen's birthday was in two weeks, and I was feeling the pressure of finding something a nine-year-old would like. Too old for toys; too young to be satisfied with new clothes.

The only thing she had shown an interest in was those Beanie Babies her friends all had. All right. I'll get her a bunch of Beanies.

Little did I know. I should have been shopping for Beanies eight months ago. We were in the midst of a Beanie drought. Babies on the Beanie black market were bringing 10 times their face value.

A Hallmark clerk laughed in my face, saying yes, they did get a shipment of Beanies in last week. All 120 were gone in 10 minutes.

What is there, some kind of Beanie Underground?

Rumor said a shop downtown had a stash, but the owner only sold to "private" customers. Maybe by dropping a name, I'd have some luck.

Forget it! My head was splitting with the injustice of it all.

Then I started getting calls from the Beanie hotline. Addicts phoned in leads. It was as surreal as Elvis sightings.

"There's a handful at the Odessa Outlet Mall!"

"A lady in Warsaw has one for $20. I'd take it."

"My cousin had some doubles. Let me check with her."

I resisted as long as I could, but then...I'm sorry...I get a little emotional here.

I gave in.

I became a Beanie Weenie.

Memory clicked and I remembered a source who could get me a couple of Beanies in time for Karen's birthday. Ironically, this same lady had offered each of my girls a free Beanie Baby a few months earlier. I had laughed at her then; now, I was scrambling for her phone number.

The Beanies were no longer free, but she had connections on the Internet. She could pull a few strings...and shamelessly, I let her.

Karen's' reaction to Pugsley and Blizzard was worth it all.

And that Pugsley...he's SO cute!

I've got to get a grip.

Comments?  E-mail Cheryl@homebodies.org, or visit her website at www.homebodies.org.  Her book, "So You Want to Be a Stay-at-Home Mom," is available at The Light Keeper's Bookstore..  

copyright 2003 Cheryl Gochnauer and Homebodies.org, LLC - All rights reserved.

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