Never was much for waitin'

I know it's early. I know I don't know the s-e-x yet. I know I won't be giving anyone birth 'til about June.

But my showers are coming up -- as in February*. Yes, I know I have time. Plenty of it, actually.

But ask anyone who's lived with me longer than five seconds and you'll be told "Erin's crazy." And Dave and I don't get days off at the same time (where we're not driving to Ohio) more than like, what? Once every three or four full moons? And I took two semesters of hard-core astronomy. I know moons.

So that's why tomorrow, provided we don't die first in this snow -- Wisconsin snow, something no one with a career in broadcast journalism here has ever heard of, ever -- we'll set out to register for some of this baby thing.

And ohmyGod. Registering for the wedding was one thing. We walked around the store, gun in hand, pointing out all the necessities we could ever ask for, and a few of the items I'm not sure why I needed (our coffeemaker's more space age than my astronomy classes were ... really).

But this is like registering in a foreign language for something like ... how can I compare the alien feeling? Uh ... A cannon ball hitting your house? Something you have no idea how it works, what it'll do, whether it'll have "puke issues" (Mom's words, not mine) like I did, whether it'll have GERD like Dave does, whether it'll sleep, ever ... Just. I've been babysitting half my life, I went to school for two years for child development, yet I can't tell you what a person should register for.

They don't teach that in school. Not even at the community college. Weird, I know.

So anyhow. They'll probably hand us the gun and we'll be standing quietly in the megastore with a sheet of paper in front of us that I tore out of Fit Pregnancy magazine, going "OK ... they say four sleepers ... But it'll be June. Who wants to be wrapped in June? Oh my God. I quit."

Wish us "Godspeed." Hey. At least the stuff's cute. I mean, come on. Have you seen this? This? This? And yeah, this, too.

*Ah. It should be explained my showers are so early because a.) Dave's sister's hosting one and she's due with her baby in March, b.) I don't want to travel eight hours at eight months' pregnant, and c.) we were going home anyhow because I'm that awesome wife who got Dave those Foo Fighter tickets.