So this Saturday, 5 weeks to the day since our wedding, is our (co-ed) baby shower. A soiree that I am at once grateful and excited for, but that has likely also (when considered in combination with the series of events that led up to our—shall we say recent—nuptials), given the bulk of our friends further cause to hate us, at least for the time being. I mean, even I understand why less than half the invitees have RSVP’d (even though it’s totally inconsiderate to the couple who has been kind enough to throw it)! Didn’t they just have a Stephanie and James event like, yesterday? Then again, this is Los Angeles, land of last minute flakes and the no call no show. Need an example? A certain friend of mine RSVP’d to my wedding not only two weeks late but with a guest (even though she is 24, single and was invited solo…), which I was totally cool with. Then she didn’t bother to come at all and hasn’t called me since. So I guess you come to expect it, even if it never really sits right… with me anyway.

That said, I still feel guilty for being such a demanding friend this year, however inadvertently. All I can say to assuage that guilt is… you think it’s a lot for you? Try being 5’3” and carrying a surprise 10 pounder… in the first year since 2005 that you haven’t sold a script when you’re still adjusting to the fact that you’re married now and have to think about someone else’s feelings on a daily (scratch that – minute by minute) basis, while in a constant state of hormonal flux that not only removes your sex drive, verbal filter and sense of identity, but makes it impossible to get in and out of your car (or up off the couch)! Did I mention I had a flu that lasted two months (and literally kept me in bed the whole time) at the top of the year… while on deadline for the last job I did have, only to wind up being treated for a hormone disorder in March before winding up pregnant in April, just as I was starting to feel like myself? Or that in February I bought a full loaded two seater Z4 that I’m going to have to sell since you can’t put a car seat in the front of a sports car? (Translation: feel sorry for me, buy me things, or at least check the “no” box on Evite!)

Yeah. 2009 has been one for the record books. But you know what the proverbial they say about when it rains… And in my storm-ravaged, sanity drought of imbalance, little Dashiell is a much needed shower of joy. Which (now that I’ve gotten that out) brings me back to Saturday…

In the process of preparation (read: putting together a baby registry), I’ve found myself overwhelmed by information, learning about a whole host of items I never even knew existed and then trying to decipher which I really need and which of those are best. But just as I seem to settle on something, I will find out I hate it – or that there’s something I like better, or that I’ve chosen poorly. In some cases, I even know I’m choosing poorly (or at least naively)… Yes, I registered for a camel colored ergo baby carrier and I don’t care if he throws up on it. It’s so much more stylish than the dowdy black one and that’s why the Tide pen was invented! In other cases, I think I’m playing it safe by relying on the experts. Then, I see the expert recommended co-sleeper and, well, it’s huge and hideous and there’s no way I’d put it in my bedroom, so I have to start over again. All of that said (and believe me, I could go on like this forever) perhaps most indicative of the frustration and confusion of indoctrination into this brave new world of baby gear has been my experience deciding upon a stroller.

For the whole of last week, I was super hot on the Orbit Infant System… Now let me be clear. Though I do have pricey-ish taste, I’m not the super trendy type, and I had not in any way intended to seek out a $900 stroller. But after going to Right Start in Santa Monica and trying all of the offerings they had on display (determined not to spend more than $500), it was the one—and only one—I liked. It was light but incredibly sturdy, easy to collapse and a smooth push. Highly rated and brilliantly reviewed and it even looked nice. For god’s sake, the display picture had a woman in an airport pushing the stroller with one hand and pulling her luggage with the other! Having tried it, this actually seemed realistic to me. And while I completely recognize that I was falling for branding aimed at my exact demographic, it not so subconsciously made up for the inevitable trade in of my aforementioned Z4 for some kind of station wagon, by proving that I could still be glamorous after all.

I couldn't find the display photo in the terminal, but you still get the idea...

Then James liked it too. With a foot between us and a different set of ideas about what we wanted, the fact that it checked off all of both of our boxes was saying something. So we decided to suck it up and register for Orbit… knowing no one was going to buy it, but hoping we’d get a few gift cards that would lower our out of pocket cost or that maybe we’d be lucky enough to find it new (or gently used) on Ebay. At last, a baby-related decision we knew we wouldn’t regret (other than committing to banking Dashiell’s cord blood).

Then, on Saturday we learned that Consumer Reports had issued a warning about the safety of the Orbit System’s car seat. In two of six trials (or something like that) it came unhinged from the base. Wtf? (Said we.) If you can’t count on the experts, the pricetag or parents who own it to indicate a product is worthwhile, what the hell can a first time parent count on? Consumer Reports, apparently. Of course Orbit has gone to great lengths to combat the bad PR, issuing a response to this warning that basically says it’s BS, but CR has stuck by their findings, and so for me, regardless of who’s right, I could never live with myself if I bought a stroller system I’d been warned against by a non-profit agency… no matter what the saleswoman at Juvenile Shop (who no doubt works on commission) tried to convince me of when I showed up explaining that I needed to find something else instead. God forbid something were to go wrong, I’d never forgive myself. And even if the thing worked perfectly, somewhere deep down (whilst sailing through Terminal 5 at LAX effortlessly), I’d have to question my motivations. Who spends $900 on a stroller that they know may be defective—besides nearly everyone in Los Angeles I mean?

Luckily for me (as I experienced on Saturday), the Italians also make strollers (known as Peg Perego). And by some miracle, they’re not only chic, sturdy, tested safe and well-reviewed, but they’re also well within my budget.