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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