Some mom’s have soapboxes, I have “fails.” After the “Maternity Clothes Fail” I figured I’d make it kind of a theme.
Which is my first fail, Themes.
Here’s the thing, with the stupidly overwhelmed baby market out there, it seems the only themes available are the ones pre packaged. Jungle Theme? check! Snuggly bears? Check! Ducks? Check! How about owls? CHECK! Frogs, rabbits, butterflies, anything that they can give big googly eyes on and print in obnoxious colors is already taken. And they are mostly gender themed. Since I’m hopefully not finding out the gender until Baby Potato makes the grand entrance, this is problematic. I decided I’d do an “under the sea” theme, because I like the ocean and the fish and sharks and octopi and lobsters and all the bright colors…and everything I find is mostly geared towards boys, because “Blue” is a boy color. Which is annoying, because I LIKE blue and I’m a girl. My MIL though, has already purchased a giraffe blanket and a giraffe feeding toy, and I broke down and had Brian buy me a seven foot long brightly colored stuffed caterpillar (none of which dwell underwater). The last straw was a infant toy named Mortimer the Moose, but let me tell you about my “Registry” fail to explain how Mortimer sealed my “Theme” fail.
Brian and I were wandering around tonight just to get out of the house and spend time with each other. We ended up at Toys R Us. I’m beginning to take Toys R Us a lot more seriously now that I’m firmly in the second trimester and there is a date set for my baby shower. SO we head to the baby section. This isn’t my first time strolling through, Brian and I went through during my first trimester and it was fun and exciting. This time it was frustrating and overwhelming. I won’t bore you with all the same complaints hundreds of mothers voice over the ridiculous number of options and varieties of pacifiers and baby moniters, but it is ridiculous. And I hate shopping. I hate it. This is worse than having to buy new jeans where I actually have to try on four or five different pairs. A thousand times worse. I’m having mini irrational panic attacks in the breastfeeding aisle and find myself wishing I didn’t have boobs, and by the time we’ve finished looking through the bath aisle I’ve convinced myself that Potato is getting scrubbed in a pot in the kitchen sink. All I can think is, “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this…”
I’m thrilled about being a mom. I am not thrilled about having to create a registry. It is not exciting, it is tedious and painful and frustrating. Everybody I get advice from (solicited and non solicited) has their own favorites, their own suggestions, their own “must haves” and “don’t needs”, and nobodys’ lists come CLOSE to matching.
So instead of continuing to examine bottles and butt wipes, I bought Mortimer the Moose, a brightly colored infant toy with rings on his tush and crinkles in his feet and a belly that squeaks. He’s cute. He doesn’t live under the sea. He’s completely not necessary. And just like that I managed two fails at once.
I can’t wait to be a mom. In the meantime, would someone else like to register for me?