Saturdays are great. My job occasionally (about half the time) requires me to work on Saturdays. When a Saturday comes along that nothing is happening, I very much treasure those hours. I fill them with sleeping in, working out, cleaning, running, sitting on the porch and reading...you get the idea. But one of my recent Saturdays was tragically ruined, and it started late one Friday evening. (Remember, my thoughts are in italics).
The setting: a small two-bedroom apartment with a killer sixth floor view facing the west.
The characters: Matt (me) - a father-to-be who works hard to support his wife, gives to charity, helps baby animals, is environmentally conscious, and advocates world peace. Married to...Wife - a master mind who carefully crafts mental domination over her husband, appears innocent and sweet on the outside but carries the "master plan" on the inside, and accuses husband of making up complicated words when they're actually real.
The time: Late Friday evening.
We find Matt on the computer checking on when the next UFC fight will be and where. He's also following the Cleveland Indians game online pitch-by-pitch (this is due to the lack of cable). Furthermore, he's keeping up on the latest training camp notes about the Browns. While in the zone, he hears a question echo from across the room.
"Who should we invite to the baby shower?" asks Wife as she sits on the couch with a notebook in hand and a pen ready.
Well timed Wife. Between innings and finding out about the next fight, I was actually thinking about who we can invite to the baby shower as well. Matter of fact, I was about to abruptly turn and ask you the same, but you beat me to it. Gosh, you know me too well. Keep answer concise.
"Ummmm, I don't know," I respond. "What were you thinking?" Make her make the first move.
"Weeeelllllll," she begins, "I think we should........something something....then put the whatever somewhere.......then mail out on the somethingth of a month......"Darn, lost her with the first 5 words but try real hard not to get distracted, or she'll get mad. "then fold the papermajig....and the people from whoknowswhere........" Focus, DO NOT turn back to the computer to check the score. She'll call you on it. Focus! "and put the other invites somewhere where something something something......but we should text to get an address from a name you'll never remember.....and you could probably handle that....." Don't turn away please! "do you need me to write........then we can email to see if they still.......call.....there......when.......are.......you......there..............." Hmmm, how did we give up that run? When will our starting pitching....
"MATTHEW!"
That's my full name. And that's not good.
My guess is that I would get in a lot less trouble if there weren't so many distractions around. Have you ever tried talking to a dog when all of a sudden, the dog sees a squirrel and takes off after it while you're mid-sentence? I think that's how Wife feels while talking to me. I feel sorry. But she brought up baby shower invites. Thanks for wanting to talk about the most boring subject in the world.
Why can't she ever ask me questions that are actually going on in MY mind? Something like, "Do you think you can jump from this balcony to that tree branch and not fall?" Or, "Is it possible to leap from each piece of furniture without hitting the ground?" Or, "What would our feet look like if we never wore shoes?" To those questions, I can give full attention and well thought out answers.
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Fast forward to the following Saturday morning. Since Wife has been so good at dropping questions like bombs out of the sky in the past 12 hours, she tries to continue the trend with this one:
"When do you want to go pre-register today?"
Pre-register? Pre-register what? My car? For a race? What is this pre-register you speak of? "What are you talking about?" is the only response I can muster.
Then came the lengthy explanation, "Well, we have to go look at both Target and Babies-R-Us to see which items we want to register for at each. I don't want to register for a stroller at Target, then see a better one at Babies-R-Us. We need to go today and make a list of which items we want from which store so they don't overlap."
Oh silly me. Obviously that's why we need to venture out on this wonderful Saturday. Because registering for baby stuff isn't hard enough, we have to PRE-register. Excuse me while I celebrate PRE-Opening Day for the Indians.
It's been a while since I've actually paid any attention to the baby aisles in a store. Check that, this is the first time I have ever paid any attention to the baby aisles in a store. Things sure have changes since I was a kid. I remember my pack n' play when I was a tot. It was a hard base with netted walls on the sides in plain white. Now a pack n' play is comparable to a Sandals Beach Resort for adults. The pack 'n plays have two levels, both with extreme comfort padding. There is an attached changing table with a half-a-million pockets and compartments to hold who knows what. There is the retractable dome on top to provide shade, and allow the baby to play a full nine inning game with no rain delays in a controlled climate. There is a spot to attach a swinging mobile that will soothe baby to sleep. And to top it off, an attached music player; just in case the baby wants to host his first pack 'n play party when the parents are out of town. BYOB (bring your own bottle).
There are so many safety requirements for these products too. I have a real issue with the car seats. Let me clarify, I want my child to be safe. Very safe. Safety first. But when I saw the height and weight requirements for the car seats, I almost passed out. 100 lbs and 57 inches. As a late bloomer in my earlier years, I don't think I hit those numbers until I was in 9th grade. Can you imagine? I roll up to my first day of high school, mom comes by and unstraps me from my car seat, hands me my lunch, and says, "Enjoy your first day of classes!" That's exactly how you want to start your freshman year. What's ironic is that the very next year I was old enough to drive the exact same car I spent strapped in the year before.
Before we left, one particular item caught Wife's eye. It's called a shopping cart cover. "We definitely need to register for one of those." She says. It's supposed to prevent the baby from catching viruses by providing a barrier between baby and shopping cart. I never had one as a kid and I'm fine, so why should my baby? As I looked at it's flowery pattern I thought, There is no way we are registering for a goofy product like that.
The pre-registry day was full of note taking and testing out products. The scary part, it was only half the battle. We still need to endure the actual registering and the, wait for it.....baby shower.
Stay tuned for Part II of the Most Dreaded saga. How did the actual registry go? Did Matt survive the baby shower? How will this end? Subscribe to my Twitter feed, or the email, or become a member (shameless plugs) to find out before anyone else!!!
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