All the Gear and No Idea-r
Those of you that know us well know that Shane and I are total gearheads. We both have bomber, dual-suspension mountain bikes, super lightweight backcountry skis that allow for free or fixed-heel skiing (depending on whether you’re climbing or descending), and on any given day you’ll find us each wearing at least one type of high-performance fabric meant to keep one warm/cool/dry and generally happy to be alive while driving around in one’s SUV, drinking a soy latte. We L O V E the gear around here. Love it.
However, I’m finding that I do not feel like my gear-obsessed self when it comes to baby stuff. It’s because accumulating baby gear makes me feel like a big poser. There is no baby here yet, but I am spending time and money on one. If you are an athlete, you know that people who do this sort of thing with sports equipment are known as “freds”. For example, a “fred” move on my part might be to buy hockey skates, pads, helmet, etc, when I have never played hockey in my life (which I haven’t). Sure, hockey looks neat, but in practice it’s very violent, and, I imagine, very cold due to the fact that it is played upon a sheet of ice.
(I realize that there are some important differences here. It is generally considered a good idea to “prepare” for a baby’s arrival, and responsible parents-to-be do this all the time. The difference is also apparent when you consider that, in the hockey metaphor, becoming a parent is analogous to suddenly having to play competitive hockey without the luxury of lessons, or, any experience at all. In fact, you have just signed on for a lifetime of nonstop international competition, all for very little recognition outside the nation of Canada.)
This poser-like feeling is made more intense by the fact that we’re not having a biologic child, and the baby is not contained within my body for all to see. Basically, I’m a tourist at Babies-R-Us, buying a few souvenirs to bring back to my carefree life as childless, cocktail-drinking urban overachiever. For this reason, I have a hard time buying more than two or three things at a time. A colorful teether and a tiny pair of designer jeans is a cute, fun, spontaneous purchase. Basically, I’m just really not sure what to buy, so I go with my instincts.
Here is what happened last week:
I was in some baby store, and saw an adorable little (little!) terry bathrobe. It had a hood, and there were little ears sewn onto the hood. I loved it. If they made this kind of thing for grown-ups, I would own one. I wanted to buy it, but didn’t quite understand the sizing, because the tag said “OS” and the hanger said “0-9 mo.” There was a woman nearby who had a small child in her company, and I decided to ask her for help.
“Excuse me…; how can I tell what size this is?”
She looks at me disdainfully and says, “Is that for you?”
Now I’m flustered. Surely she can’t mean is it for me to wear, as it’s only about 18 inches long and 10 inches wide. No matter what she means, judging from the tone of her voice, there is only one right answer. “No,” I say, unconvincingly.
“Well, the person you’re buying that for… do they want one?
I am still confused about who wants what, and answer truthfully, “I’m… not sure.”
She then proceeds to tell me how impractical a bathrobe is for a baby, explains why, and actually it all makes a lot of sense. This woman is definitely sensible. I, on the other hand, will pretty much throw down for anything that has a pair of ears sewn onto it. (I am fully committed to dressing my child like either an animal/insect or fruit/vegetable until she can stop me from doing so. And I do mean STOP me.)
I nod as she explains my poor judgment to me, and realize that I will have to put the bathrobe back in order to not look like a total fool. I accept the “I’m the aunt with no children who buys impractical gifts” marker because it seems more benign than the “I’m the mom-to-be who has no bloody idea what she’s doing and only buys things because they’re funny” marker. I own no diapers, bottles, or baby wipes, but I have the Halloween costume all lined up. I have to face it, I am a total fred-mom.
I am visualizing all the fun, magical, baby-Einstein moments, and none of the screaming, projectile vomiting or nasty, nasty diapers. The entire human race must do this, because we keep reproducing, keep throwing baby showers, keep designing websites devoted almost entirely to our children. We are all fools for them, every one of us. Some, like me, are just easier to recognize.