Leggo…At Least I’m Not Preggo.

14 Nov

Yesterday I spent a nightmare of an hour shopping for baby stuff in Walmart. I walked into the store, which always seems to have people identical from the zombie extras in Shaun of the Dead shuffling about, with my friend’s baby gift registry printed out and the items already highlighted and color coded based on cuteness and my current level of generosity. There was no way, I thought, that this could go wrong: I had a list with pictures, UPC numbers, brand names, and I was full from dinner and wouldn’t be distracted by food. Then, after taking five steps inside, I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart started palpitating and the fluorescent lights suddenly became blinding as I realized that I had no idea where the baby section was in Walmart. I couldn’t even begin to think of where I needed to go.

Maybe it’s near the dog food, I thought. Dogs, babies, smelly overpriced food…same thing, right? Wrong. It turns out that baby section is, like everything else in Walmart, completely hidden and has absolutely nothing to do with what the signs or even the employees say. You know how the stairwells in Hogwarts liked to randomly change and the students had to hope that they ended up in the right place? Walmart’s kind of like that. I’m pretty sure the aisles change at random and you just have to walk around aimlessly until you find what you need.

After twenty minutes of walking around, I finally found the baby section nestled in the middle of the clothing section. After pushing past tons of clothing racks with the scent of cheap dyes of third world countries wafting in the air, I stepped through the fabric and, like Lucy walking through the wardrobe into Narnia, arrived in the land of baby things.

scared baby

The same expression I had when I saw the baby section

It was godawful. I began grabbing articles of clothing at random only to realize that everything was labeled by months, and I had managed to pick out all 3-6 month items. Feeling defeated, I pulled out the list and began reading through it again:

Dino pajamas Guess how many articles of baby clothes had dinosaurs on them? Everything.

12 pack assorted heirloom socks Seriously, what kind of Walmart did she shop at? There were barely three packs of socks here.

12 pack Gerber newborn bibs Only found online. Figures. Seriously, why 12 of everything? How many babies is she really having?

Long sleeved newborn mittens Obviously she was joking with this one. What kind of baby wears mittens?

In the midst of shopping for items that I never even knew existed (for example, what is a “gown” for babies, and why couldn’t I find one? What kind of baby wears a gown/robe? Hugh Hefner’s?), the store was full of screaming kids. My chest started hurting a bit, and my breathing quickened as I realized that I needed to temporarily escape, and fast, if I was going to ever finish shopping for this girl’s baby, so I went to the safest place I could think of in Walmart: the wine aisle.

If I can't find baby things, how is Jessica going to do it? Srsly.

Drastically unlike the baby section, the wine aisle in Walmart is always easy to find. It’s the only section of the store where there aren’t any hillbillies loitering around. Somehow, the lighting always seems more romantic, there is a soft cherubic humming in the background and an old man who looks like God usually walks by, nodding and smiling in my direction as if to tell me that, yes, all is well in the world.  After perusing the aisle and picking out a cheap wine that was ironically called Lucky Duck, I walked back to the Top Secret Hidden Baby Stuff Section, found one item on her list after twenty minutes of searching, and just decided to wing it and picked up a few other random baby things. The highlight of my epic shopping excursion occurred when I was walking up and down the pacifier section (which has like so many nipple shaped things, some of which say “orthodontic”..are babies wearing braces? What?) clutching my bottle of wine and shakily reading the list while a young couple with a baby stopped to stare in my direction. I was tempted to push it one step further and ask them if they knew where the coat hanger section was.

Forty minutes later, I was in my car with my baby crap and completely done. My breathing was back to normal, my arms had stopped bleeding from the zombie shoppers who had bit me in the store (kidding, biting only happens at voting booths) and I had thrown the stupid gift registry list out. I drove home, threw the clothes in my closet where I couldn’t see them, and plopped down on my bed with my glass of wine and Gourmet Lollipop. Then I took my birth control pill.

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2 Responses to “Leggo…At Least I’m Not Preggo.”

  1. Jeyna Grace November 14, 2011 at 2:00 am #

    I guess we will all have to go through this one day…

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