You know, I’m pretty sure that for most of humanity’s existence, babies survived without much more than a basket filled with hay to sleep in, some rags to wear on their butts, their mom’s boobs, and maybe, if they were lucky, a corncob or two to play with.
Then, somewhere along the way, we decided babies needed more stuff. Lots more stuff. Stuff to make them smell better. Learn faster. Cry less. Eat more. So much stuff that we had to create Walmart-sized baby superstores, just to put it all in.
Even so, when Brian and I went to start our registry yesterday, I thought I was prepared. Figured I knew what we needed. Was sure that I’d done enough research to be able to whip through the aisles, scanner in hand, and be done before lunch.
Boy, was I ever wrong.
I got my scanner, alright. And marched straight off to the car seat aisle to christen my list. Only to find that there were five different versions of the car seat I wanted. And parked right next to the affordable, top-rated model I had researched was a much cooler looking orange one. With a sun visor. And a level-ly thing in the base. And did I mention it was orange? I do like orange.
Yeah. Our progress pretty much slowed to a crawl at that point.
We did eventually talk ourselves out of the snifty-looking seat, and the souped up travel system we knew wouldn’t fit in our car, but not without a lot of debate. Before we knew it, almost an hour had gone by, and we hadn’t even made it past the pack n’ plays.
Three hours later my head was whirling, and my registry was nowhere near done. Did we need an exersaucer? How is that different from a jumperoo? Obviously, a baby has to have bottles, but did we want the ones that were guaranteed to reduce colic, eliminate gasiness, or teach her french?
Who knew our homes were unsafe enough to warrant an entire aisle of plastic cover gizmos and corner guards and appliance latches and rabid dog tranquilizers?
And can someone please tell me why, when everything I’ve read tells me that you can’t use quilts in cribs, and that those cute little bumpers can contribute to SIDS, everywhere you look there are adorable bedding sets that just scream, “buy me?”
It’s enough to make even a shopaholic like me dizzy.
In the end, we admitted defeat and treated ourselves to some yummy BBQ brisket while we waited for the world to stop spinning.
I am humbled. And very glad I can do the rest of my registering online.