Registered Imbecile

I’d like to take this opportunity to thank the 17 year-old fuckstick behind the registry counter at babies.r.us, for helping to make our registering experience remarkably awful. Not only did you ridicule our choice to keep the sex of our unborn child a surprise, but you also managed to be completely useless in the mean-time. Well done, idiot. 

Okay, our experience wasn’t entirely awful. But you have to know me well enough by now that you understand my penchant for chastising stupid people. That is not to say that I never find myself in the position to feel completely useless and idiotic. Because I can be. And four years of infertility has helped make sure of that. You see, during those four years going anywhere near the vicinity of a baby-centric store brought forth so much pain that it was literally difficult to breathe. Hell, if I’m being honest, it sucked just to pass the baby food isle at the grocery store.  So I should have had some idea that after years of not needing said products, on top of years of avoiding them, that it would pretty much guarantee that I’d know JACK SHIT about any of it now that the time has come that I actually do need it. Jack. Shit. 

The evening started off by me almost completely losing it while filing out the one page questionnaire to get our registry started. 

Registrants Name: Melissa G. 

Co-Registrants Name: Brian awesomely supportive, even when his wife proves yet again to be bat-shit crazy, G.

Event date: Cue unrelenting tears. 

So I made it through the rest of the questionnaire and seven isles and 83 minutes later we had to stop because I couldn’t wrap my head around the magnitude of it all anymore. It was like complete and utter sensory overload. On top of that I have never felt so uninformed as a consumer. I knew almost absolutely nothing about the products. Who was reputable, and which products were worth the extra money? Do I need to sterilize the bottles? If so, why do they sell drying wracks? How come some have straws and some have bags? I’d done research on the basics like strollers and car seats, but I know nothing of baby monitors or what makes one diaper bag more useful than the other.  Imagine going to Home Depot for the very first time and being asked to compile all the parts in order to build a water heater from scratch. And if you don’t do it right, your peers will laugh at you and also, it proves you’re going to be a bad mother. 

We went two different times, and I left there more cross-eyed each time. Thank god for my best friend, Teresa. She has three boys. So she knows. And she’s going to make it all better. Because otherwise? I’m not going back.