In about six weeks time, JW and I will be responsible for a whole additional human being.
This dawns on me from time to time, and while I’m mostly very chill about the whole proposition of child-raising, I do get rattled from time to time.
It’s generally bizarre things that set me off.
Monday I had one of these encounters.
My two bffs, Ky and JC, sent me a lovely car seat for their future nephew. It came in a giant container in the middle of the -30 degree weather, and as I heaved it inside, I realized it was basically an ice block.
So I left it in the middle of the living room floor and went back to working.
Several minutes later, I received a frantic gchat message from JC, asking me if the car seat had come with a base.
How she knew it had just been delivered, I do not know.
I don’t ask questions.
Instead, I found a knife and ripped open the package.
That’s what it looks like.
I noticed that it had a base and let JC know, and then she demanded an explanation as to why I was registered for some other base.
Are you sure it has all the pieces? She asked.
I was sort of sure, so I said yes. I then went on to explain that I was registered for something else called a travel system, which comes with a stroller and a carrier and a base, and that this also qualifies as a car seat.
I really had no idea what I was talking about, but I tried. I told her I thought that maybe the baby went in the above model when he was a little bigger, maybe like when he got bigger than 10 lbs.
I totally made that up.
Two seconds later, Ky chimed over gchat, noting that the car seat would work for any baby over 5 lbs, and also, did I not know that it had an infant insert, because it did.
Of course I didn’t know that. I don’t know anything.
This is where things fell apart for the three of us, as we realized that as a collective unit, we know a lot less than we think we do.
I tried to explain that I should be the most concerned, since motherhood is impending and I was staring down either a usable car seat or a death trap, but it had become a group failure at this point.
One phone call later, we realized we had all the right pieces, and that the extra base was unnecessary.
In fact, it didn’t even go with the car seat.
We also found out that in addition to the infant insert, a viable accessory is the “infant positioning wedge.”
Is that a sex wedge? Ky asked me.
I’m pretty sure it’s not, you guys.
But again, it turns out I don’t know as much as I thought I did.
Here’s to my newest strategy: fake it ’til you make it, and in the meantime, laugh as hard as you can about not knowing anything.
I’ll let you know how that works out for me.