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20 march 2003

currently reading

Affluenza: The All-Consuming Epidemic, by John DeGraaf (and others). The most engaging book you'll read (and use!) toward leading a more sustainably simple lifestyle. It'll make you want to drop the Joneses like a hot rock.

Fat Land: How Americans Became the Fattest People in the World, by Greg Critzer. If you read one nonfiction book this year, read this one. Read it to your kids, for your kids, for your loved ones. Learn how America has gradually widened over the past thirty years, thanks to corporate behavior that is utterly criminal, and America's "right" to have it all, all the time. An engaging, alarming, and thought-provoking discussion of the biology and sociology of being big, fat Americans.

wailing at the great wall with chicken dance elmo

This is the story of what I believe is my second-ever trip to a stuff-for-babies superstore. I like babies, honest. I just can't differentiate a yack-on cloth from a poop-in cloth. I know, you're running to the phone so I can babysit your kid. Shut up.

Anyway.

Today at lunch, a few of us went to Baby Mecca Mart. I walked in, saw the sea of tiny tiny pastel things, and thought, "ooooh, yeah. Welcome to Out of Your League Land, Kim." We were there to help this swell gal I work with put items on her registry. Different from registering Baby with the government's Total Information And Awareness Program, a registry is where onesies, teddy bear socks, and things to chew on come from.

Also, I am the only non-mother in this shopping party. My helpful contribution: reach things on highest shelves, and don't sniff the baby lotion. Al-righty, then! Let's shop for baby!

We begin when mom-to-be gets an electro-gun to carry around the store and scan favorite items. Because a laser-activated radioactive handful of metal is GOOD FOR PREGNANT WOMEN to hold. We turn right, to the "things that go in baby's mouth" section. Everything is plastic, and almost everything has Tigger or Pooh on it.

Our first mission has us facing the biggest damn wall of anything I've ever faced before, and they are NIPPLES. Hundreds and hundreds of plastic, latex, titanium, gold-plated NIPPLES. Men, you are wasting your time shoving cash in nude dancers' garters. Free nipple wall, guys! There are trial packs (because you should totally bring them back if ya don't like 'em), heavy and light fluid release, natural, orthodontic (for baby's delicate braces?), and slanted.

Of course, these nipples don't look like anything I've ever seen on an actual BREAST. They're all made in China, but I hope the instructions aren't written there. "Place happy fun nipple in mouth of baby for enjoyment milk." The mothers contemplated and discussed the pros and cons of the various milk-delivery devices. I finally had to look away. Too many large nipples making Kim feel inadequate. Creepy. I think our mom chose some super-soft ones for "drop-in" bottles. I guess for when company drops in for a snack.

Next stop is to an adjacent aisle for...hell, I don't know what it was for. My grandparents don't have this many creams and ointments in their medicine closet. There was baby oil, non-oily baby oil, "rash stick", milk bath, milk lotion (not to be used with nipple), and combo packs with bath, lotion, and a soothing CD for the "real spa" experience. Baby has many things available to smooth away those fine lines and wrinkles.

So we pass more whatzits and hoo-has, until we start getting to the good stuff. Vibra-Baby! Now, when I was a kid, I had two things to rock me to sleep: a mother, and a father. No longer! Parents, you are now officially obsolete with the advent of VIBRAAAAA-BABYYYY! WHIRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.....

I've never seen anything like it. They're kind of like little La-Z-Boy recliners for infants. Insert child into chair. Press button--you want music? Got that! Heat? Got that, too. Massage? Awww, yeah! Sadly, I did not fit in the Vibra-Baby 2000 for a test run. According to the moms, these chairs are instant baby sedative. Crying? WHIRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! Need to get some stuff done around the house? WHIRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! Baby, you never had it so good.

The next aisle over was Recall Central, where all those baby roller-walkers are for sale, but will likely be recalled in six months for being a choking hazard or infant projectile device.

They were so cool.

No longer is this a life preserver on wheels, like when I was a kid. No, sir. They had the fire truck, the Sesame Street toys, and the miscellaneous colored gizmos that squeak and light up. But the granddaddy of these things was surely the Def Baby Mixmaster Bling-Bling on Wheels. On the little tray surrounding baby was a mini-keyboard, drum-machine simulator, and special sound effect buttons. You toss your kid in here, and she'll be a phat DJ before she's potty trained. "I like baby powder and I don't know why! I smell real fresh and it keeps me dry! Word to your ma-ma, yo."

Baby shopping was starting to get fun.

We did the clothes, the blankets, all cute, all tiny. All disturbingly fraught with boy-girl stereotypes. Cars and trains on the boy clothes, baby animals and pastels on the girl clothes. At first glance, the boy clothes looked made for playtime. The girl clothes looked ready for a photo session at Olan Mills, and then an immediate trip home to put on boy clothes and play outside. I must admit that I liked the little frog hats and chicken feet footies. Those were cool.

Diapers. Yeeeeah, diapers. Here's what I know about diapers: when I was a teenager, I babysat for a bunch of kids, and some in diapers. Billy (who was two-and-a-half) had a swell mom who got premium diapers. Upon changing him one evening, I realized that I'd ripped off the wrong part of the tape, and thus stuck it on the wrong part, leaving Billy...um...vulnerable. Noting my diaper-challenged error, Billy spoke right up and told me where Daddy kept the utility tape.

So, yeah, I once duct-taped a diaper. I 've also made coffee filters from the feet of pantyhose. Desperate times, desperate measures.

At last, we were winding down our trip in the toys aisle.

Yeeegh. Here's a sampling of the toys we experienced. No, I'm not making these toys' functions up:

• Twitchin' Pooh: Press Pooh's hand and watch him dance! Watch him dance the hair band, mosh pit, head bob, devil horns dance! Pooh can dance to Metallica! Go, Pooh, Go!
• Screaming Elmo: Tickle him, my foot. AAAAAAAAH-HAHAHAHAAHAHAHA! AAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAH! Instructions: press Elmo's belly. Watch Elmo scream. Place baby in Vibra-Baby immediately upon freak-out. Whirrrrrrrrrrr....
• Chicken-Dance Elmo: Elmo is dressed in a Big-Bird suit. Press his foot, and watch Elmo do the chicken dance! The cackling, the flapping, the bobbing, the buggy eyes--what a great toy for infants. It's like a phobia in a box. Batteries, and post-traumatic therapy, sold separately.

So there you have it, kids. My conclusion: why aren't pet and baby stores joining forces? Sure, the pet food is a little smellier and you'd have to keep it in the back...but the toys, the blankets, the bedding--I'm just saying. I'm seeing some real synergy here, people. Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...