Tuesday, January 19, 2010
20 weeks, 2 days pregnant
So we’ve registered …
Yes, that sentence deserves its own paragraph. Why? Because IT WAS TIRING.
Wait, let me clarify: registering in the department store was tiring. Exhausting, actually. Frustrating. Hot. Crowded. And it may or may not have resulted in several accusations that Darling Husband didn’t know how to use the registering gun.
As I mentioned on Sunday
, Darling Husband and I attended a special baby event at a department store, so we could get started on our registry, listen to experts, maybe win prizes, etc.
We ate some fruit, drank some juice, listened to guest speakers talk about nutrition and yoga and childbirth and the fact that university tuition will be approximately $500,000 in 18 years. Everything was mellow …
… until we got that blasted registry gun.
I thought I had known what I was in for, and had brought my tidy little two-page spreadsheet of everything we needed on our registry. I led Darling Husband (and the gun) over to the first aisle, and proceeded to go item by item. When we needed something, Darling Husband would scan it, and I would check it off my list. Simple, right?
Except for the fact that …
- The gun only scanned about half of the barcodes
- The gun came up with errors for the other half
- Store employees were never around when the gun acted up
- Some things (like the crib mattresses) didn’t have barcodes
- Seriously, where are the store employees???
- Other things (like the cribs) had hidden barcodes that involved opening up plastic sleeves and sorting though random slips of paper
- You could scan a pack of yellow facecloths and a pack of multi-coloured facecloths, and they would come up with the same thing. I want multi-coloured facecloths, not yellow! They are not the same AUGHHHHHH!
Eventually, we handed back that hated gun.
And went to the food court for cheeseburgers.
And a contraband Diet Coke.
And I felt a million times better.
That night, Darling Husband went off to work, and I hunkered down in front of my laptop and calmly finished registering for everything (split between the department store and a specialty baby store).
The internet is really the way to go. No crowds, no stupid gun, no anxiety attacks over barcodes. Just good old-fashioned telling-people-what-to-buy-us.
P.S. Oh, I did forget to mention the one good part of the store event. Darling Husband won one of the top prizes …
A diaper cake!
P.P.S. No, we are not taking this as a sign from God to use disposables.
P.P.P.S. Darling Husband won’t let me take it apart (possibly ever). I think he’s proud of his big win.
P.P.P.P.S. (Clean) disposable diapers smell really, really good. Like powder and sweet, sweet babies.