I’ve been invited to my friend Amye’s baby shower. Given the table hell that was her bridal shower, I’m not too excited. This time I can’t even drink. And what the hell. I just went to a baby shower for a co-worker, Melissa.
At least there was some intrigue. Melissa talks like her nose is plugged up—just like the adults in the Peanuts catoons—so I was dying to see if the rest of her family suffered from the same affliction. Did her mom look like this?
She didn’t. It was very disappointing.
Melissa sat me next to two feisty older women. They had all the angst and grunt of the crotchety old men who sat in the balcony of the Muppets.
I loved them. When Melissa opened present number 1,896 (I think it was a breast pump that calls La Leche League if it senses you slacking off), one of the women turned to the other and said:
“Jesus Christ. When we had baby showers we were happy with a rectal thermometer and vat of Vaseline!”
I thought of these women today when I went online to see Amye’s baby shower registry. They would have died. I died, too. Amye registered for 247 items: wipe warmers with headlights, cradles, bouncy chairs, swings, carriers, bassinets, baby papasans, rockers, swingers, jumpers, vibrating seats, musical seats, seats that speak Spanish.
All that's missing is a blow up doll for her partner for the six weeks+ after giving birth that she can’t/doesn’t want to schtoop.
You know, the stuff she really needs.
Of course, I thought back to my own ineptitude when registering for my own baby shower gifts. I had no clue. What did my baby need besides my hooters, exactly? Could my baby sleep in a cardboard box on stilts instead of in a bassinet? Why not? Did 3T mean three times the size he was at birth?
I’d enlisted the help of friends to help me decipher the madness. From the looks of it, Amye decided to choose one of everything in the store.
It got me wondering: Do you think most new moms fall into this trap? When did having a baby become all about amassing stuff? When did it get so damn complicated? Most importantly, what's the silliest thing you registered for or bought that's now collecting dust?
It does kind of make you long for a good old rectal thermometer.
Or a stiff drink at a baby shower. God I miss vodka.
About me: I'm 42 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 9-year-old Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.