- I know I'm having a baby. If I haven't caught on by now, I have bigger problems than can be fixed by spinach puffs and cheesecake.
- I know who my friends are. I know which ones can be there.
- I picked my sister up at the airport myself, so I know she's in town.
- I registered for baby stuff that I wish people to "shower" me with, so I already know what sort of gifts I'm likely to receive.
If I wanted to, I could even look online to see what has and has not been checked off the registry. But I won't; it seems tacky.
Yeah, the only surprise that could come out of this would be for me to be unsuspectingly thrust before a mob of all the women I know (and their cameras) in my bacon-grease stained sweatshirt, ugly high-water maternity jeans, and bad hair. I know it hurts, Mom, but I'm fairly certain you can bear to forgo that particular pleasure, if only to allow me some rarely-requested time with a blow-dryer and some product.
The whole process of registering was a weird one for me. I felt like a spoiled kid: "I want this one in lilac, NOT grape, and I want this one in every size....actually, better make it two in every size..." Honestly, the baby-stuff store is overwhelming in itself. Endless rows of booties and bath toys; entire walls full of bottle and nipple options... I've obviously never done this before, and after being there for two hours, I realized how much I don't really know what I will want or need. If I'd stayed any longer, I would have had a melt-down in the bumpers-and-sheets aisle and the helpful staff would have had to clean up the ensuing puddle of my tears and snot.
"Why are they all pink?!?" I would cry as they carried me away. "What's a layette, anyway? I don't want a bottle warmer, I want my old jeans-size back! I want to wear sexy underwear again! I want an Oompa Loompa nanny now!!"