What Not To Buy

Someone recently wrote about this blog and described me as the anti-mom mom. Which I guess makes sense because I have also been described as the anti-bride bride. So, in that vein, I thought I would put together a list of things you need and don't need for the anti-baby baby.

When you're gestating you have nine looong months to do nothing but horde crap for your fetus. But since you have no experience with actually caring for said fetus, you buy things pretty blindly. And there are plenty of things out there that seem to make sense at the time, so you end up with a lot of stupid stuff.

Example A:
Diaper bag that looks like a briefcase/shoulder bag/stylish work bag.
Because you will never take your baby with you to a meeting at the office. Somehow I failed to realize that I didn't need a diaper bag that doesn't look like a diaper bag because the only time you are carrying a diaper bag is when you also are carrying the baby. At which point you will be totally covered with spit up, drool, and Zweiback crumbs, so who cares about your stupid diaper bag. And, if it did come to pass that you were running around town with your stylish diaper-bag-that-looks-like-a-work-bag and were suddenly called into the office, you would not only be bringing your bag into work, you would also be bringing your baby, in which case no one would be like, "Oh, I didn't realize she was carrying a diaper bag, it really looks like a briefcase," because they would be focusing on the fact that you had arrived at the office with a screeching midget.

Example B:
Toys
Milo has a lot of toys and some of them are so cool that I want to play with them myself. However, his favorite toys right now are a piece of blue tupperware, the lid to an old peanut butter jar, and the New York Times. He likes pretty much any reading material, but he goes crazy for the Times. You can't even read it anywhere near him or he starts lunging for it. Especially the Week In Review section. That's his favorite.

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There are also baby items that seem ridiculous at the time, particularly if you are living under the delusion that you will be able to somehow avoid inviting Walt Disney to come live in your house, but that turn out to be life savers.

Example A:
Exersaucer
Milo is, sadly, outgrowing this miracle of modern plastic engineering, but it was great while it lasted. Sometimes you just need a safe place to stick the baby. Like when the UPS guy shows up, or when you want to empty the dishwasher, or when you need a good three hours to sit down and read the latest Nick Hornby book. Sometimes I just put Milo in it and run out and go buy myself something pretty. That's a joke. I don't do that. Nor have I ever, ever, ever contemplated it.

Example B:
Shoes
Now, why on earth would you need shoes for someone who doesn't walk? Someone gave us cute little shoes when Milo was born and I thought they were second in idiocy only to another gift which was too weird and stupid to mention. (And no, it wasn't a hot plate with a frayed wire, but it might as well have been.) It turns out that they're so useful that I actually went out and bought him a second pair. First, they prevent him from ripping his socks off and dropping them over the edge of the stroller. And second, just because he isn't walking doesn't mean his feet don't touch the ground. He loves standing, and standing outside is even more exciting, especially at the playground where he can meet other babies, so long as he avoids stepping on the used heroin needles. Actually, I have never seen anything like that at the playground, but it is a playground in New York's most populous borough, so you never know about these things. Shoes. That's all I'm saying.