Little White Lies and Butt Paste

Yesterday, I went into the dreaded Baby's R Us. I was on a mission for two things: a gift for a neighbor's shower and a registration packet. We'll deal with the packet first.

The people who think of those packets are marketing geniuses. I consider myself a fairly level-headed person. I know that about half the junk (maybe more) in that store is completely unnecessary. Fun? Sure, but not vital to the survival of your baby or necessary for you to be a successful mother. However, you get someone like me in there, in a hormonal state, and they create these packets that make you feel as if you don't register for every single thing, then you will never have what it takes to nurture your little one. And to make it easier, why don't you just scan this whole catalog in so that everyone knows what to give you? Or better yet, ask one of the associates to just automatically register you for the "Complete Essentials Plus" registry.

Luckily, I was not there to register. My good friend, who has traveled the baby road before me, also had a run in with with this marketing strategy, and therefore, asked me to pick up the packet so that she could x off the things that she would be handing down to us and also the complete not-so-essentials. Kind of a cheat sheet, if you will.


However, procuring said registration packet turned out to be a little more difficult than I had anticipated. According to the not-that-friendly associate, they can't give out the packets unless you intend to start your registry today. Luckily, my friend had also forewarned me about this. So, I had a little white lie (okay, it's kind of a big white lie) ready and told her it was for a friend on bed rest. She became a lot more friendly after that and produced the list. Then, however, she wanted my friend's name and address, so that the store could contact her and offer assistance. I didn't really know what to do about that, so I just said that I would have her call them. I reached for the packet, but she held it just out of reach, which one eyebrow raised. I kind of think that she didn't believe me.

So, of course, I had to elaborate and say that she'd been really stressed out and would want to register on her own time, without any pressure. I could feel my face turning red as I continued to weave my tale. My little white lie was getting bigger and bigger.

Finally, the associate, who was back to being not-so-friendly, grudgingly handed over the goods. Clutching my hard earned packet to my chest, I wanted to escape immediately. Unfortunately, I had mission two still to accomplish.

The mother-to-be is a neighbor. She is a nice enough girl and even though I kind of have to resent her on principal (they got pregnant their first month trying), I feel obligated to attend.

I found one item in our price range: a deluxe wiper warmer). It was actually a few dollars under and I noticed she had registered for some diaper rash cream, so I picked up the one that she had chosen, creatively titled "Butt Paste." They also have (should you want the entire line) Butt Wash, Butt Softener, and Butt Dust. It gave me a smile.

So, I walked quickly past the registry table and got out of there: registration packet and butt paste securely in hand.

Mission Accomplished.