My wife and I are only just realising we're baby idiots. Our friends who are also expecting babies know all about cots, strollers, cradles, bouncing nets, car seats, high chairs, playpens, nappy liners, baby carriers, slings, changing tables, mattress protectors, milk bottles, bottle carriers, sterilizers and pacifiers. I didn’t come up with this list off the top of my head. I had to look up an email that my wife forwarded to me. The actual list is a lot longer but these are some of the bigger purchases we need to make. My wife and I are really panicking. We’ve all seen those movies about macho men heroes meeting their match when a baby suddenly falls into their care. I’ve always thought they were just exaggerated for dramatic effect. Now that I think about it, none of those guys had to do anything more than feed the baby and change a few diapers. Faced with this growing shopping list, I’m starting to see that taking care of real babies could be a thousand times more complicated than anything any movie could have to say on that matter. By the way, that was just the list for the baby. There’s also a list for mummy - breast pumps, nursing pads, nipple creams, feeding outfits and other things I’ve forgotten the names to.
We have bought none of these things. Our baby is due in another three and a half months and so far, we have bought about a dozen pregnancy books, a soft toy (probably not safe for baby use), and a story book. My wife has read all the pregnancy books. I’ve only read part of Paul Reiser’s Babyhood, safe in the knowledge that it contained not a single shred of useful information that could make me feel guilty about not knowing something crucial.
Coming back to the topic of baby items, I heard somebody use the word “pram” the other day. I don’t remember what was being said because in my head, I was really trying to figure out if prams and strollers were the same. Of course now, I know they are not, thanks to wikipedia. We are going to have to decide if we need to buy both.
One friend suggested we do some shopping at Mothercare. We tried but ended up wandering around the aisles hopelessly lost. We didn’t buy anything. We didn’t know where to start. Everything looked essential, yet we couldn’t possibly afford half the things we thought we needed. We tried to focus on something manageable and universally important, something simple and understandable, something we would have had as kids – milk bottles. When we found them, we were paralyzed by the variety of options. Do we need small bottles or big bottles? Would we need both eventually or right away? Should we go with the starter pack, or go for the bulk order? If bulk was cheaper, how many bottles would we end up needing?
We left the store without buying anything and felt horrible. Since then, it’s been a reoccurring theme in our baby shopping. We visited a few other shops and each time we’ve bought nothing and felt like bad parents. Guilt plays a big role in the marketing of baby products. In just about any item category, you can pick from a huge line of products catering to various levels of parental responsibility. When we were looking at car safety seats, we saw some price-is-not-a-factor models that met all sorts of safety standards and ease-of-use ratings, some medium range models with less reassuring credentials (presumably to keep costs down) and some that looked like high chairs with legs sawn off. Faced with these options, we really had to think how to phrase our questions without sounding cheap and irresponsible. We didn’t want to discuss anything out loud either because we didn’t want the salesperson playing us up against each other. We just talked in whispers, trying to figure out what each other was thinking and ultimately trying to come to an agreement on what kind of parents we wanted to be. It was futile, so we got out of the store without buying or learning anything.
We’ve always said we want the best for our kid, but faced with the mountain of things we are told we need to get, we’re seriously considering downgrading to wanting “pretty decent stuff” for him.
We have bought none of these things. Our baby is due in another three and a half months and so far, we have bought about a dozen pregnancy books, a soft toy (probably not safe for baby use), and a story book. My wife has read all the pregnancy books. I’ve only read part of Paul Reiser’s Babyhood, safe in the knowledge that it contained not a single shred of useful information that could make me feel guilty about not knowing something crucial.
Coming back to the topic of baby items, I heard somebody use the word “pram” the other day. I don’t remember what was being said because in my head, I was really trying to figure out if prams and strollers were the same. Of course now, I know they are not, thanks to wikipedia. We are going to have to decide if we need to buy both.
One friend suggested we do some shopping at Mothercare. We tried but ended up wandering around the aisles hopelessly lost. We didn’t buy anything. We didn’t know where to start. Everything looked essential, yet we couldn’t possibly afford half the things we thought we needed. We tried to focus on something manageable and universally important, something simple and understandable, something we would have had as kids – milk bottles. When we found them, we were paralyzed by the variety of options. Do we need small bottles or big bottles? Would we need both eventually or right away? Should we go with the starter pack, or go for the bulk order? If bulk was cheaper, how many bottles would we end up needing?
We left the store without buying anything and felt horrible. Since then, it’s been a reoccurring theme in our baby shopping. We visited a few other shops and each time we’ve bought nothing and felt like bad parents. Guilt plays a big role in the marketing of baby products. In just about any item category, you can pick from a huge line of products catering to various levels of parental responsibility. When we were looking at car safety seats, we saw some price-is-not-a-factor models that met all sorts of safety standards and ease-of-use ratings, some medium range models with less reassuring credentials (presumably to keep costs down) and some that looked like high chairs with legs sawn off. Faced with these options, we really had to think how to phrase our questions without sounding cheap and irresponsible. We didn’t want to discuss anything out loud either because we didn’t want the salesperson playing us up against each other. We just talked in whispers, trying to figure out what each other was thinking and ultimately trying to come to an agreement on what kind of parents we wanted to be. It was futile, so we got out of the store without buying or learning anything.
We’ve always said we want the best for our kid, but faced with the mountain of things we are told we need to get, we’re seriously considering downgrading to wanting “pretty decent stuff” for him.
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