First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the monumental task of registering for items for a twin baby shower.
It would be way too easy to just register for two of everything, which is the simple “guidance” that everyone offered us when they learned we were registering for twins and not just a single baby. So when the day came to register, my thrifty wife decided to register at two different stores because she knew that different deals existed at both locations.
Knowing that I would quickly become a nuisance if I was bored, Megg had me create a list of the items we were registering for at store #1 and simultaneously list the items that we should look for at store #2. I’m sure this was completely unnecessary, but it made me feel important and kept me busy while she did the important work so I couldn’t run interference.
We knew that we would need several bottles, so we stocked up on a variety of sizes. Easy stuff.
The real challenge presented was the issue of gender-oriented items. What disastrous consequences would we face if our baby boy had a pink pacifier in his mouth? Oh, the horror. The sweet finds of the day were anything that we could get in neutral colors, which wasn’t as easy as it sounds.
Before I knew it, we had registered for enough floating toys to turn our adult bathtub into a water park. Apparently babies need grooming kits, so we asked for two of them also. One thousand receiving blankets, ointments, and first aid kits rounded off the list of the stuff we would need to adequately raise two very small human beings.
Breastfeeding. More specifically, breastfeeding twins.
It was an intimidating concept for both me and my wife. Apparently there are pillows for this, and apparently they are called “My Brest Friend”. But the ordinary singleton pillow just wouldn’t suffice, so we had to get the double, of course. Which cost more, of course.
After we registered for all of these goodies, we continuously scoured Craigslist and mom-swaps for other things that would be required for keeping two babies alive. We picked up several pack-n-plays, two bumbos, two boppies, two swings, and almost anything else you could imagine, in twos.
My basement was quickly resembling those mom-swaps that we had been attending. All of which featured clustered aisles filled with every infant-child toy and clothing possible.
I hate clutter, so I hated my now cluttered basement.
Baby crap stacked on top of baby crap. My once functional manly basement became a maze of brightly colored toys and other neck-breaking obstacles. Since July, my weekend to-do list has contained the order “arrange basement”, but it hasn’t happened yet, and I’m finally resigning to the fact that it probably never will.
And clothes. Lots of clothes.
Anyone who has had a baby is overly eager to get rid of the baby clothes they’ve accumulated. We received so many clothes from so many people, some of whom were nearly strangers. Mom was truly so grateful for their generosity, but I just seemed to view them as additional obstacles I would have to dodge when I tried to get a beer from the basement fridge.
Dads: The clothes will keep coming, and your baby will outgrow them in the blink of an eye. I suggest you develop a plan for getting them out of the house as quickly as they came in. Oh, and pray that your wife doesn’t use the classic line, “But what if we have more kids? Maybe we should just save them.”
Don’t get me wrong, it felt great to know we were so well-stocked with baby supplies, but I would have loved to have some nicely stacked and labeled bins.