You may not have seen me over the weekend, running into the store quickly to replace a toilet lock an impatient guest ripped off our toilet during our kids’ birthday party a few weeks ago. I wouldn’t have noticed me, either, what with all the excitement swirling around your first baby registry visit.
You were adorably debating whether or not to register for two packs of nipples instead of one. Or something like that. In the breastfeeding aisle.
Let’s talk about your registry for a moment, shall we?
Remember, I was naïve and childless once, too.
As for the nipples? Register for, oh, I don’t know. Fifty packages. In your sleep-deprived haze, a few will roll under or between furniture or appliances, and since you look like the puppy-having type (you know, to practice for a baby), subtract three or four because they’ll get eaten (or licked) by Precious Fluffybottom the Third, and you don’t look very willing to expose Aiden or Colby or Meriweather to potentially dangerous bacteria.
You can go ahead and skip the Tummytime Infant Doorstop as well because, well, I hate to break this to you, but babies eventually lift their heads on their own. I promise.
(Photo credit: litlnemo)
Other things you may want to delete from your registry now, so as not to annoy the bejesus out of your baby shower attendees: crib shoes, pee pee tipis, cloth diapers (because, who are we kidding?), and that weird mesh bag you put their food in to keep them from choking. It’s just weird.
I know you have your pretty little eyes on that McLaren stroller, too, and it’s your call, but it basically comes down to which brand you’d rather scrub half-digested food and body fluids from, and which brand you’d prefer damage your back bumper. I know you want to be the jet set of the walking track, but, really, there are more important things on which to spend one’s money.
The hanging diaper stacker? Don’t bother. It’s a joke. What do you hang that thing from, anyway?
And don’t fall for any of that ‘help ease your child into a blissful sleep’ shit, either. Here’s the thing: Your kid will either sleep or she won’t. That’s the breaks. There’s no star-shining, Bach-playing stuffed turtle that’s going to change that.
As for the onesies – I know, I’ve been there – the urge is strong to pick up every one with a catchy phrase relevant to you. If you’d like your narcissism with a side of irony, click away. People will love picking them up. Just don’t get upset when “Pretty Like Mommy” is completely obscured by that which she just ate.
My suggestion for your registry? Money, diapers, wipes, laundry detergent, Resolve, paper towel, and takeout. And sleep. And money. That will about do.
Let me know how it goes.
