Wednesday, June 22, 2016


18 months ago, Will and I stood quivering in the basement of Macy’s Herald Square.  Frozen and bewildered, we assessed the scene:  rows of shiny appliances packed with hordes of enthusiastic sales people and overly caffeinated bridezillas. 

“We should have done some research” I gulped, wide-eyed and dizzy.

“We’ll be okay” Will assured me.

Would we?  With a limited supply of promotional canapes and mocktails, I feared we’d be lost in there – slowly starving to death - forever. 

We moved cautiously toward the cache of scan-guns, selected our weapons and proceeded into the fray. 

We laughed.

We cried.

We fought.

We made up.

Though it was the stuff of my consumer-intolerant nightmares, ultimately we lived.  Now as we unpack all those lovely selections and find places for them in our new home, it seems to have all been worth it.

Yet here I am again, panicked over how to fill this blasted baby registry. 

The human race began reproducing well before the invention of baby swings and swaddle blankets.  Only fifty years ago, my grandparents were getting by with a handful of cloth diapers and some bottles.  But times have changed.  Certainly the science behind car seats and sleep safety have saved thousands of infants from preventable death – for that we should all be thankful.  But some of this stuff is just fluff and most of us know it.

At least we think we do.  The truth is we won’t really know much until we’re parents ourselves and THAT is how they get ya!

With loads of help from family, friends and co-workers our registry is finally taking shape.  All of the kind, constructive advice has been invaluable.  For that, Will, Bobby and my completely neurotic self thank you!

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