It would appear, from the looks of the items in the newborn section of Babies ‘R’ Us (heretofore referred to as BRU), that babies leak a lot. See, we registered there with our little infra-red scan gun and store-supplied checklist, and nearly every item on the list has something to do with either catching, absorbing, or wiping up something that has leaked from a baby.
For example, the BRU people seem to feel it’s important for all new parents to have a changing table. Because while you’re changing the baby, it will be leaking, and it is better to do that on a table than hassle with a mess on the floor, the couch, or the fireplace stoop. Obviously, we’ll need the cotton swabs baby wipes, and cotton balls, but how about bibs? BRU recommends a cool dozen of these. Lap pads? Think six. Throw in hooded bath towels and washcloths, a breastfeeding shawl (like a regular shawl wouldn’t do), and baby mittens, and one would think we’d have the leak thing covered. No, indeed. There’s the waterproof bedding to boot.
There’s a whole litany of items to distract the baby, designed to ensure that the leakage is at a minimum. Chew toys and pacifiers and bouncy chairs and the ever-popular “Stationary Entertainer,” all with the same hidden message: “Please, Baby. Please don’t think about your butt.”
We aren’t having an official shower. Not that we don’t need stuff; puh-leeeez. Everyone needs more of this stuff. We’re still waiting for the woodwork to settle down. See, when the ladies we know found out about our pregnancy, all their hand-me-downs came out of the woodwork, bless their hearts. There’s a pile four feet high on the floor of the nursery as I type this, all Eddie Bower and Whosit Whatsit Baby name-brand coveralls and onesies and jumpers and hats and booties. Of course, it’s all for a boy baby, and we don’t know what we’re having. Humph.
Still, we’re registered, and it was a cathartic process. It’s much more promising to register for a baby than it is for a wedding. If you zap something while registering for a baby, then someone gives it to you, and you realize you hate it, Sha-zam: the kid’s outgrown it in about 30 days, and it hits the garage sale bargain bin.
Given all that, for those interested in helping the new parents out, check out the registry at Babies ‘R’ Us. Follow the links to the Baby Registry and do a Registry Search for Kira Wright (additional name “Peter”) to find us.
The room is coming together, finally, with a crib and changing table in place. We’ve had the rocker and ottoman for some time now, and the yellow of the room itself has made it a very comforting place to relax. Since I have a feeling we’ll be spending plenty of time there, that’s probably a good thing.
Kira’s poor ankles. What’s left of them, anyway? She wakes up in the morning, and after about 15 minutes upright, she looks like she’s been working a booth at the Detroit Auto Show. The best investment a husband can make for a pregnant wife is the Revlon Beauty Line Heated Foot-Bath and Massager. Hands down. The doctor, of course, is unsympathetic: “Tell me when your knees look like that, and we’ll talk.”
The baby is huge. I mean, huge. We’re still six weeks out, and I’m convinced she’s either going to go into labor any day… or explode. She’s officially hit that third-trimester exhaustion, too. It doesn’t matter what time of day, you look her straight in the eyes, and if you don’t say something to grab her right away, she’ll leave the engine running but let go of the wheel. There’s a lot of propping, pillow stuffing, and early bedtimes these days, but she is still trying her best to get through work, coaching, and school until the end. I swear I’m going to set off fireworks if we can get all this done, done, done.
That’s all for this entry… big news coming, though. Very big news indeed.