Baby Shopping
One of my cousins is having a baby soon, so yesterday Mike and I went shopping for her shower.
This is not the first time I’ve shopped for a baby shower, and I know it won’t be the last. Therefore, as the pages flitted out of the registry printer I felt a familiar sense of foreboding. I hate shopping for baby showers. I always feel so clueless.
Mike and I walked into the baby aisle and I totaled up the prices of a few items in my head. Mike touched a little stuffed horse on a shelf. “Wow, how cute,” he said, stroking its nose.
“Maybe you should be doing this shopping instead of me then, since you’re enjoying it,” I said.
“Sure! What’s first on the list?” Mike asked. As a veteran of retail, he’s always confident he can find what I’m looking for.
I squinted at the list. “How about…a onesie.” I sighed. “I’m not even completely sure what that is.”
“Well, just give me the item number,” Mike said, looking at the merchandise tags.
As we perused the aisles I felt a rising sense of anxiety. It was like when I took exams in college and I didn’t know the material. I seemed to be surrounded by stuff that I had no clue about, but someday I’d need to know, I’d be responsible for knowing, someone’s welfare would count on me knowing. How do you work those fancy diaper pails? How do you attach a car seat? More importantly, how the hell do you learn those things? Is there a book? Is there a class? Or was I absent from school on the day all the girls were taught how to be mothers, and now it’s too late?
“Here,” Mike said, pressing some baby clothes into my hands. “Do we need anything else?”
“Um,” I said, “how about some wrapping?” At least I know how to do that.
We went home and I quickly put the gifts into a gift bag and arranged tissue paper around it. I felt pleased that I could at least wrap baby items, even if I couldn’t use them.
One of my friends is pregnant right now too, and laughs at my insistence that I wait until I’m thirty to have kids. She says that it’s silly to wait now that I’m married, but I don’t think it’s a bad idea at all. I need that time to learn how to care for an infant, how to manage parenting responsibilities, and how to tell what a onesie is.
This is not the first time I’ve shopped for a baby shower, and I know it won’t be the last. Therefore, as the pages flitted out of the registry printer I felt a familiar sense of foreboding. I hate shopping for baby showers. I always feel so clueless.
Mike and I walked into the baby aisle and I totaled up the prices of a few items in my head. Mike touched a little stuffed horse on a shelf. “Wow, how cute,” he said, stroking its nose.
“Maybe you should be doing this shopping instead of me then, since you’re enjoying it,” I said.
“Sure! What’s first on the list?” Mike asked. As a veteran of retail, he’s always confident he can find what I’m looking for.
I squinted at the list. “How about…a onesie.” I sighed. “I’m not even completely sure what that is.”
“Well, just give me the item number,” Mike said, looking at the merchandise tags.
As we perused the aisles I felt a rising sense of anxiety. It was like when I took exams in college and I didn’t know the material. I seemed to be surrounded by stuff that I had no clue about, but someday I’d need to know, I’d be responsible for knowing, someone’s welfare would count on me knowing. How do you work those fancy diaper pails? How do you attach a car seat? More importantly, how the hell do you learn those things? Is there a book? Is there a class? Or was I absent from school on the day all the girls were taught how to be mothers, and now it’s too late?
“Here,” Mike said, pressing some baby clothes into my hands. “Do we need anything else?”
“Um,” I said, “how about some wrapping?” At least I know how to do that.
We went home and I quickly put the gifts into a gift bag and arranged tissue paper around it. I felt pleased that I could at least wrap baby items, even if I couldn’t use them.
One of my friends is pregnant right now too, and laughs at my insistence that I wait until I’m thirty to have kids. She says that it’s silly to wait now that I’m married, but I don’t think it’s a bad idea at all. I need that time to learn how to care for an infant, how to manage parenting responsibilities, and how to tell what a onesie is.
posted by Danulai at
10:50 AM
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4 Comments:
onsie = baby singlet = infant unitard.
$0.02 from a soon to be uncle-in-law to a coupel of cute boys, and the (unrelated) uncle to an adorable set of kids of a friend of mine.
By
dpaton, At
11:50 PM
have kids when you're ready and not before....onsies are baby underwear, like a onepiece long john set without the legs. they're great because there's no tucking. as to clothing a kid, well, we dressed boy in everything handmedown from my nieces (lots of pink) except dresses. that was the only line we drew to sex definition that we did. the only important thing about baby clothes is that it fit, it be warm/cool enough and that you like it. the baby doesn't give a rat's pattooot.
By
dykewife, At
2:09 AM
oh, one more bit...the title had me laughing quite a bit once I realized the context, and how out of context I'd originally read it ;-)
By
dpaton, At
11:17 PM
The only reason I know about any baby stuff is that I was forced to work in the infants department of a store years ago. I'd have all these mothers coming up to me asking me questions like I was some baby expert. Little did they know all the training I got was "You're in the infants department today!"
By
ftw, At
4:32 PM
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