Yesterday we held our breath and plunged deeper into the fish tank. At the bottom were bright lights, purple-clad workers, teeteringly pregnant women, and babies in slings. We had come to the depths of parenthood for one purpose alone: a baby registry at Babies R Us.
The water that deep into the tank is not like it is further up where the sun can still penetrate and warm you. For weeks I've been happily "nibbling" away so to speak at my online registry (myregistry.com), adding whimsical wishes to the list--things like wooden high chairs, birdy-embroidered bedding, and sea turtle nightlights. It was time to go deeper. Time to get serious. Time to start shopping for things like diapers, burp cloths, and bottle sanitizers.
Registering at Babies R Us is a ponderous task and one hears war stories about it the moment pregnancy is announced. Mythical tales of damsels in distress, floods of tears, and registry lists a mile long are not uncommon. But we'd been mentally prepared beforehand.
For reasons unknown to me, this particular store is laid out in such a way that unsuspecting first-time parents find themselves in the midst of breast-feeding products immediately after being given scan guns. Craig happily started scanning away at bottles and milk bags, not realizing the row we looked at was only one of probably 10 different brands, each with their own pros and cons to consider. When we turned the corner and saw yet more bottles and milk bags--this time accompanied with nursing pads, nipple cream, pumps, and pillows, I understood where the floods of tears came from. We stood between two aisles circling slowly, horrified at what faced us in a few short months.
That's when another fish--one with a red ponytail, freckles, and newly loosened stomach skin--swam over to us and gave us lessons on the intricacies of newborn care. She warned me to stay away from certain products and hold off on others ("your baby will tell you what she likes," she said); she encouraged buying some items used and warned to only buy new ones of others. After Craig slunk off, she taught me how to freeze cabbages and shop for nursing pads ("they're just maxi pads for your boobs"). And then she moved on to cover Burt's Bees for Babies, bath tubs for newborns, the dangers of buying a used car seat, and the importance of a microwavable bottle sanitizer.
I, of course, immediately proceeded to forget all of her lessons after she swam off. After finding my husband scanning a "My Mommy's Hotter Than Your Mommy" bib, I pulled him over to the stacked shelves of bottle sanitizers and brushes. I pulled out our Registry Essentials checklist and compared the items on the wall to the items on my page. We decided to delete the first packages of bottle supplies we'd scanned and scan this new brand of bottles and sanitizers instead. And then we quickly made our escape to baby hygiene, where similar conundrums presented themselves all over again.
It did get easier as we swam further along. Maybe we got used to the depths and maybe the baby gear supplies just became more familiar as we moved into swings and away from breast feeding. Either way, we made our way back to the surface without a single tear dropping. When we emerged from those sliding glass doors, the sun was warm and life looked a little bit more like we're used to.
No comments:
Post a Comment