Babies r Us or how I learned to stop worrying and love capitalism


Sheri and I made our first major excursion looking for cribs, car seats, strollers, changing tables, play pens, and other baby accoutrements last weekend. Her parents have been wonderfully generous and had offered for us to come to Minneapolis so they could help us with some of these purchases. Last weekend we braved frigid temperatures and set out across the frozen tundra in search of baby stuff. Dear God! Lucy isn't even born yet but there is a whole industry lying in wait to sell stuff to us, her bewildered parents.

For those of you who have never been there let me set the stage for you. Babies r Us is set in a typical suburban strip mall next to PetSmart (another place to spend money on your 4 legged children if you are so inclined). We walk in and i'm immediately struck by the vast array of baby clothes. There must have been an acre of onsies, twosies, miniature baseball uniforms, miniature dresses, sweatsuits for the infant who is determined to lose that baby fat, and other apparel choices at 1:20 scale. All in varying hues of blue and pink. I was duly impressed at the selection and the obvious time and effort that Babies r Us undertakes to discern what's in for the discriminating 8 month old. With a deep breath I forged ahead past the play pens, breast pumps, strollers and car seats (I would return to those) to the baby furniture in the back of the store.

There, laid out for my review, were baby bedroom sets in every style imaginable. Oak, pine, cherry, mahogony, dark wood, light wood, white cribs, yellow cribs, dressers, changing tables, rocking chairs, gliders. Where to begin. My criteria for cribs is simple. I walk up to the crib in question, grab the rail and give it a good shake. If it moves or rattles then it is unacceptable. I've told Sheri that I don't want Lucy jumping up and down in the crib, shaking the railing and it coming loose or breaking. If that were to happen I would have to go back to the store and find the salesperson and beat them about the head and shoulders with a table leg. Best to avoid that situation. The next question, regular or convertable crib. Converable cribs seem all the rage, they transform from a crib, to a toddler bed (which when I was growing up were called single beds) and then into a full size bed. Potentially Lucy could conceive her own children on the bed she used as a child. This thought jumps into my head and then I feel it, my breathing begins to get faster, I realize I'm sweating even though I've taken off my coat, and are those palpitations I'm feeling? Maybe I'll stroll over and look at the car seats.

Now car seats are a necessity. Long gone are the days where I stood next to Dad (I had to be careful to avoid his cigarette) in the front seat of the '68 Chevy. Crash protection consisted of Dad pinning me to the seat if he had to slam on the brakes while muttering obscenities around a half finished Kent King. Nowadays, babies are strapped in so that only their mouths can move while in the car. That way they can be sure to register their displeasure at being stuck in the backseat while Dad tries to maneuver his Mazda through rush hour traffic with his vision blocked by one monstrous obscenity of an SUV after another. But which car seat to choose. There are dozens. While I'm looking, an altogether too cheerful young woman is helping another bewildered dad make his selection. With one look at him I could tell he didn't have a chance. The glazed expresssion. The slight nervous tick in his left eye. The way he kept rubbing his palms against his pants. He was toast, and the saleswoman knew it. "Well, the Babyrider 2000 is o.k. but it doesn't have side impact airbags or a built in cupholder or a heated seat like the KiddieKruzer 4000 does. The KiddieKruzer 4000 has a built in bidet to clean your baby's ass if she poops while in the car seat." I can see the sweat pop out on the dad's forehead. He's doing math in his head, you see the KiddieKruzer 4000 is nearly $400 dollars. And that is without the shunshade or the subscription to bluetooth wireless that come as options. Now the saleswoman goes in for the kill. "Sure the KiddieKruzer 4000 is a little more expensive, but money is no object when it comes to the comfort and safety of your baby, right?" Put a fork in him, he's done. He's nodding and reaching for his wallet. Game over. She has used the ultimate trump card. What is he going to say? "No I really want my baby to be uncomfortable and unsafe while in the car. I think I'll make the kid ride in the trunk and give it some sharp objects to play with while its back there."

At this point I'm beginning to hyperventilate. I'm thinking, "Buicks, Buicks are supposed to be safe, where's the nearest Buick dealership. If I finance it for 8 years I could probably make the payments on a Roadmaster XL if I stop eating lunches." Or maybe I can keep Lucy in the house until she's 12. Or I could devise some sort of styrofoam suit that she could wear when she goes out. Luckily, the tiny part of my brain that is still functioning rationally screams "get out!" So, even though it is 3 degrees outside I bolt for the exit tripping over a diaper genie and nearly stomping the hell out of the lady offering coupons for lamaze classes. "Sir, wouldn't you like to help your wife through labor by using lamaze breathing techniques?" "Lady, I'm doing cash business breathing for myself right now, get outta my way!"

The cold air brings me up short. I lean up against the wall and try to slow my breathing. As I begin to get myself back under control I realize that I've been having an attack of consumerism. Even these most natural and beautiful of all things, birth and childhood, have been commodified. By this point my breathing has slowed down and the sweat on my face has started to freeze. I take a deep breath and head back in. Gotta look at strollers next.

Nathan