We got our first free load of baby give-a-ways this past weekend. The lovely folks that handed over the loot could not have dumped it in the truck fast enough. Meanwhile I’m having a mild panic attack ala, “What inthahell am I doing wrong to make all this crap relevant in my life?”
Oh, right. I’m pregnant.
Jim kept looking at me every now and then with a similar shifty look of nervous humor rooted in pure, unadulterated fear. On the way home one of the gadgets turned itself on and started vibrating in the back seat. Nice to know something was having a good ol’ time with all this.
Once we got past the “No, we’re not finding out the gender” phase of being preggers, life has more recently progressed to the, “Are you registered?” hour of the party.
Well, no, I’m not registered. Hardly seems fair to register for baby booty when we haven’t even gotten to register for the usual wedding toys for us. Alas, I guess that’s what happens when you cram all of life’s big events into the same timeframe. One day we’ll have fluffy new towels, 3 brand new toaster ovens and a set of dishes to die for. Until then, it’s baby basics.
But that’s just the problem. There *are* no basics. There’s enough superfluous baby stuff out there to fill a small country. I am completely and totally overwhelmed with the amount of gadgetry I feel obligated to analyze and buy. And needless to say, seein’ as this is bambino numero uno, I have no clue what I’ll actually need vs. what people will make me feel guilty for not having. I’m thinking a few onesies (late July baby does not need a winter coat), perhaps something to put the baby in/on to sleep (besides me), a diaper disposal apparatus (either cloth pick-up service or what they’re calling a “genie” – though I’m pretty sure they don’t grant wishes), a jog stroller (yes, please) and whatever is necessary for the baby to go for a ride in the carcar.
Eventually we’ll need a tyke-sized go-getter so baby can be like Daddy… until then, however, we’re living in a tree, making our own soap and going naked. Perhaps there’s a pick-up cleaning service for adult-sized loin cloths. Hmmm…