The first time we went stroller shopping, it was more like we were just getting our feet wet.

My parents were in town, we'd just announced that I was pregnant, and we had some free time. So we went to the local kid-stuff supply store, a friendly neighborhood establishment, to see what strollers are about.

A very nice man talked us through the boutique-sized selection, from the lightest umbrella model to the heaviest-duty jogger. Like a ringmaster at a circus, or perhaps a game show assistant, he picked up and flung various contraptions, showing us how easily they open and close, while discussing the virtues of this feature or that.

My parents stood back and watched, in awe. Scott took notes with a ballpoint pen on a scrap of paper he had in his pocket.

We were not really prepared for the education we were getting. I was
strangely afraid to even touch the strollers. As if they might bite.

Scott, being brave, and protecting me since I was clearly in some kind
of shock, accepted the man's exhortations to push the different models
around the store, dropping the weighted baby doll into each one for a
more realistic ride.

On Saturday, I met a nice stranger — whose stroller I got caught admiring —
who gave me a whole bunch of great opinions about strollers and other
baby gear. He was so confident and thorough in his reporting, I
thought, I'll just follow his recommendations!

So, off Scott and I went that afternoon to a larger baby-supply
emporium where another salesman added his two-or-three cents to what
I had already been advised. This trip, I was braver, dropping the 15
lb. stuffie-bear into each one, test driving, and practicing closing,
lifting, and opening. Unfortunately, we'd only tried about three models
before the guy went on break, leaving us alone in the room full of the
be-wheeled and jewel-colored monsters. I ceased to be able to think. We left the store without making a decision.

This week, the invitations for my baby shower went out in the mail. The woman throwing the shower called and exhorted me to get my registry in order, particularly regarding the big-ticket items.

Yesterday, a friend gave me new advice to chew on, suggesting a
different and lighter-weight brand of stroller than the others I'd
looked at. Must... go... back...! Try... again!

This is harder than buying a car. Seriously.