Registering for Stuff We Don't Yet Understand.
We prepared like it was war.
"Okay, so we have a print out of what we need the most, right?"
"And we'll just go in and like jump right in? Just grab that gun and beep stuff?"
"We're all over this."
And with that, Team Sparling stormed "Babies R Us" and tried to make sense of the chaos.
(Sidenote: My best friend's water actually broke at Babies R Us. Just goes to show you how much cute overload goes in that store. Basically makes people give birth on the spot. /sidenote)
We started with the big items, like car seats and pack-and-plays and a stroller, because those were items we knew that babies used. (And we knew what these things were - double win.) This very nice, old woman, Evelyn, helped set us up with our registry and gave us a "handy checklist" of items we'd want to add to the list. And then she gave us the beeper gun thing, which we used to scan items and add them electronically to the list.
"This thing. I love. Like from when we did the wedding registry," I said, trying to find some kind of familiarity with the words on the car seat boxes (like "key fit" and "bubble level indicators" and "OMG you're having a baby and you're going to put it in your CAR?").
"Yeah, but with that stuff, we knew what it was. I don't know what half this stuff is." Chris had the scanner gun in his hand and was brandishing it like an actual rifle.
"Me, neither," I admitted.
Aisle after aisle of intensely cute items that looked like bomb parts to me. What is a boppy, and why do I need one? How exactly is that little sock going to stay on her teeny foot? How many bottles are we supposed to have? Or burp cloths? (Burp cloths threw me for a loop, because the burps I am most familiar with do not require wiping up afterwards.) Or little no-scratch mittens to protect her little face?
After about an hour, we both needed a snack. (My blood sugars were holding on the low side, thanks to walking around the store endlessly, and I think Chris's were too. We snacked on protein bars and nuts, leaving a trail of crumbs as we meandered aimlessly.)
After two hours, we were losing our minds a little bit. And then we ventured into the section with all the bottles.
"What. On. Earth. Is. That?" I pointed to the machine that looked like a hybrid of Snoopy's Sno-Cone Machine and two megaphones.
"That's the breast pump. Right? That's the pump?"
"I do believe it is. And we're going to have one. In our house. Another pump. I love pumps. Don't you?" At this point, my mind cracked right open and started to pour out in a panic on the floor. I went, in a hurry, over to where the shelves of baby powder were and started beeping the bottles.
"I know what to do with baby powder. This is safe. Let's get some of this."
Chris and I are bright people. We both went to college, we are reasonably educated, and we can string a sentence or two together without sounding like we need a break. But something about this baby has us completely tongue-tied. After doing our best registering, we went to a nearby restaurant to grab lunch.
And we sat there for about fifteen minutes, not talking. Just sort of glazed over.
"She's going to live in our house. We get to keep her. Like, forever." I said outloud.
He nodded and grinned. "She's our friend. Permanently."
We both stirred our drinks with the straws.
"Holy crap, this is really happening." BSparl gave me a quick kick in the bladder to make her presence known, and I rubbed my hand along the side of my belly.
"We love you, kiddo. A lot. Just forgive us in advance for having no clue what we're doing, okay?"