Monday, August 27, 2012

Registering for Baby Stuff: The Geoff Chronicles

I've done a registry before.  Usually the second time you do something, it's generally easier and you know what to expect.  Sadly, on this occasion, I was wrong.

It looks so innocent, doesn't it?
We walked into the superstore with high hopes.  We had gone early (10 minutes after opening) and the parking lot was reasonably empty.  Family members had been asking when we were going to get around to it for a while -- and rightfully so.  Baby G (as we have affectionately taken to calling her) is going to be the first niece to all of our siblings, and the first grandchild to all of our parents.

We wanted to register for gender appropriate stuff (not that I don't love yellow and green) so we waited until the ultrasound (remember me puking rainbows?) and thus we were off and running.

If you have never been to a baby superstore (and for the record I have now been to 4 varieties) they have a very similar layout.  For anyone looking for sound advice and a printable map, here is one you can take with you:

Diagram 1

If you are pregnant and showing, they are on you like white on rice.  The manic store associate pounced and we were in chairs within seconds being handed all sorts of materials for the occasion.  Primarily they were lists of things you absolutely can't live without if you have a baby in your house.

You know, things like infrared tracking cameras that broadcast your baby's every move to any television in the house and strollers that cost more than two months rent.  Necessities.  

Now, what you have to know is that we went in with a game plan.  Em (my wife...heretofore referred to as "my wife") knew the majority of what we were looking for (she's the researcher. And the planner. And the organized one) but we had a few outstanding questions.  As the maniacal baby registry lady made me want to run screaming for the door (refer to diagram 1). I asked if there was anyone on the floor who could help us as we walked around if we had any questions.

There was.  For purposes of this blog we shall refer to him as "Geoff".

Diagram 2 ("Geoff")
He kind of looked like every male friend I ever had in high school.  Except Geoff      (name changed to protect the innocent) was clearly in his 30's.  And thought it was "ridiculous" that we didn't know what brand of stroller/car seat we wanted.  He inspired absolutely no confidence in me that he had any actual experience raising children, but he was heinously condescending.  Between the "harumphs" and "pishaws" he manages to eek out some semblance of human conversation.

In the end, we picked the stroller that folded up the easiest and was capable of being used for a jogging stroller.  Geoff approved.

We stumbled into the breast pump section.  I'm not even going to begin to step into those waters, but suffice it to say, there are way more options than you ever thought imaginable.  And all of them are crazy expensive.

The only thing in that section more expensive than the pumps themselves was apparently liquid gold:

Clearly mislabeled.  This has to contain gold. 
Em has every intention of breastfeeding, so we're (hopefully) ducking a bullet here.  But I'm sure I've got an internal organ or two I could spare in case we need to buy this stuff.

We ambled into the diaper section.  You have no idea, unless you have actually raised a rugrat, how many options/varieties/variations there are in the diaper section.  Suffice it to say, there's more than you imagined.  And they don't come cheap.  We're trying cloth diapers as inspired by this post over at younghouselove, but there was only one option.  And it didn't have any snaps.  So we moved on.  Undaunted.

By the time we finally moseyed over to the furniture section, we were burnt.  An hour had passed since we got there.  Em was tired and hungry and I was over this.

And apparently, so too was the furniture associate.  Who was nowhere to be found.  So we trudged on.  We worked our way through the isle of discounted goods, all of which were affordable and none of which were allowed to be added to the registry as they all were being discontinued.

Finally we made it to the fun part -- toys and books and movies and awesome things baby needs whatsoever.  Not yet at least.  So I registered for a few books and remembered that it'll be a while before Baby G has any interest in a dinosaur play set.  
So I might look somewhat ridiculous playing with this by myself. But I think its awesomeness is self-evident
But, determined, more than ever, to see this thing through, we returned our registry gun to the manic registry associate and she loaded it into the system.  When I asked about furniture help (now 2 hours since our initial arrival) she said she would get somebody.  Guess who she called to the desk?

The now infamous "Geoff"
I saw him approach and asked if we could add additional items online.  Even if they were special order.  And furniture.

Geoff insisted we could.

I got home.  Looked for furniture options.  There were no special order options online.

Guess who greeted us at the furniture counter the very next day when we wanted to place our special order furniture:

Yup.  Geoff again.
To be continued...

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