Two stops on the baby prep route
Saturday, May 20:
I don't know why I have been looking forward so much to going "baby shopping" with my husband today. But it's all I have been able to think of since he said today would be good for him.
First stop: going to pick up the crib my stepmother gave us. It's at a store next to a Lowe's. To me, Lowe's is like a higher-end Home Depot. To my husband, it's like a bug zapper to a bug. And yet he doesn't even whimper or swallow hard as we pass the store.
I lead my husband to the display so he can see the crib set up with matching furniture and sheets. He likes it. He gets grumpy, though, at the poor way the display furniture has been assembled. Then we pass the other displays for fun, and I show him the cute crib bedding that's my favorite (but which we probably won't buy because I'm sewing the room decor myself with a theme that's not found in any crib bedding set, anywhere, period).
We ask about the crib at the front desk and are told to pull around to the back, where someone will load it up for us. Me, I want to make sure the crib is in the natural finish and not the white. My husband, he wants to make sure the box fits in his truck.
It is, and it does.
"It's like the truck was made for this crib," my husband says proudly.
Next stop: Babies R Us. There is hardly any parking. There is a long line at the registry desk. But it's deceptive, and soon I get to sit down in front of a grandmotherly type who takes about a half-hour to describe how the whole baby registry thing goes. I had assumed these registration desk people would be more demanding. Finally, she gives my husband and me a folder full of information. She gives my husband the scanner and tells me, "You point, and he shoots."
That's not exactly how we do things, though. In fact, I'm so concerned about our time constraint and my husband's patience that I tell him he's the boss today, that he can register for whatever he wants, and I can come back and fill in the registry later.
We register for a grand total of six items.
But to my surprise, my husband says we could come back some night next week to add some more things.
We do accomplish settling on a car seat, which he will suggest his parents give us, because they asked what they could buy. We also decide to make choosing a crib mattress his aunt's job, because she is notorious for over-researching everything (and then painfully detailing the results of her findings to you), and my husband and I don't even know where to begin in picking out a mattress.
There are still so many decisions to make, and the project/junk/future baby room (my husband is now calling it the "room of doom," much to my consternation -- how can you put a baby in the "room of doom"?) is still full of things my husband needs to clean out.
It's easy to get overwhelmed. But I guess a little progress is better than no progress.
I don't know why I have been looking forward so much to going "baby shopping" with my husband today. But it's all I have been able to think of since he said today would be good for him.
First stop: going to pick up the crib my stepmother gave us. It's at a store next to a Lowe's. To me, Lowe's is like a higher-end Home Depot. To my husband, it's like a bug zapper to a bug. And yet he doesn't even whimper or swallow hard as we pass the store.
I lead my husband to the display so he can see the crib set up with matching furniture and sheets. He likes it. He gets grumpy, though, at the poor way the display furniture has been assembled. Then we pass the other displays for fun, and I show him the cute crib bedding that's my favorite (but which we probably won't buy because I'm sewing the room decor myself with a theme that's not found in any crib bedding set, anywhere, period).
We ask about the crib at the front desk and are told to pull around to the back, where someone will load it up for us. Me, I want to make sure the crib is in the natural finish and not the white. My husband, he wants to make sure the box fits in his truck.
It is, and it does.
"It's like the truck was made for this crib," my husband says proudly.
Next stop: Babies R Us. There is hardly any parking. There is a long line at the registry desk. But it's deceptive, and soon I get to sit down in front of a grandmotherly type who takes about a half-hour to describe how the whole baby registry thing goes. I had assumed these registration desk people would be more demanding. Finally, she gives my husband and me a folder full of information. She gives my husband the scanner and tells me, "You point, and he shoots."
That's not exactly how we do things, though. In fact, I'm so concerned about our time constraint and my husband's patience that I tell him he's the boss today, that he can register for whatever he wants, and I can come back and fill in the registry later.
We register for a grand total of six items.
But to my surprise, my husband says we could come back some night next week to add some more things.
We do accomplish settling on a car seat, which he will suggest his parents give us, because they asked what they could buy. We also decide to make choosing a crib mattress his aunt's job, because she is notorious for over-researching everything (and then painfully detailing the results of her findings to you), and my husband and I don't even know where to begin in picking out a mattress.
There are still so many decisions to make, and the project/junk/future baby room (my husband is now calling it the "room of doom," much to my consternation -- how can you put a baby in the "room of doom"?) is still full of things my husband needs to clean out.
It's easy to get overwhelmed. But I guess a little progress is better than no progress.
posted by Damselfly at 11:01 AM
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