Tuesday, September 05, 2006

What a Weird Transition.

I've become accustomed to bridal registries. I wander in with plenty of time, grab the list(s), and politely decline an explanation from the teenage employee who's worried an older lady like myself might not know how all the new fangled bar code/description/asile numbers coordinate. I giggle mentally and wander off to see what my friends have chosen to feather their nests with. It's fun. Mostly.

Somewhere around wedding 20, I couldn't stand to walk into Target or Bed, Bath & Beyond again. My gifts got a little weird for a while. I'd like to take this moment to publicly apologize for giving Angie and Jeff the six month subscription to a pasta sauce service.

Around 25, I went back to the registries, but tried to do themes. I had to stretch for some. Jenny does the theme well. I get sidetracked. I came up with an undersea theme for a wedding gift that involved seafood forks and lobster crackers. My wackiness does not always serve me well.

Now we're around 30, and I've been trying for the heart-felt, well-thought-out gifts. With a special touch. Or doing something that will give the couple a memory rather than an object. And I've discovered something.

I suck at it.

It's more a matter of getting all the pieces together than the idea. So if you get back from your honeymoon and are trying to fingure out why I chose to get you a pair of napkins and a pineapple fruit bowl off your registry, just be glad I didn't temporarily lose my mind and fill it with fruit. There's no more sense to it than that. My new goal is to make my gifts truely unremarkable--let them just blend in.

But I digress.

Now that I've become comfortable with bridal registeries, I had a shock of a moment this evening when I went to he Babies "R" Us website and really looked at Andrea's baby registry. All of a sudden the image of her with a high chair and her husband up in the middle of the night with a bottle just kinda whacked me upside the head. Wow. Drea's really gonna be a mommy. For the rest of her life. And she needs things like breast pumps. Good grief!

Procreation. How did it not occur to me that all these weddings were going that direction? Maybe it was the emphatic order from the priests this weekend to establish a family or the direct mention of it in a parental speech that set my wheels turning.

Actually, Andrea's not nearly the first. But somehow it's hers that makes it all real.


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