To say that “my mom has enjoyed shopping for Baby Girl Friedman” would be the biggest understatement ever uttered in the history of the English language. It seems like several times a week, I get a phone call or a Facebook chat from my mom detailing a new purchase via socks, dresses, or onesies. She even mentioned that she couldn’t decide between a pair of colorful, striped leggings and “denim” jeggings and considered buying both (result: she ended up with just the striped leggings… but then returned a separate time to claim the jeggings). Such difficult decisions in a grandma-to-be’s life.

Today, I had lunch with my mom and we both had time to kill after so we embarked on yet another shopping spree for this lucky little girl. Can I just pipe in for a second and say that I don’t think she was ever this excited to shop for me, her own daughter? I guess this is what being a grandmother is all about.

While browsing the racks and ooooo-ing and awwww-ing over every cute butterfly-adorned top and ruffly onesie, I started to notice a trend in baby clothes. Basically, each brand has their salute to all the events and holidays that outline a child’s life. The clothing designers are ever-ready to present moms — and grandmas! — who are in love with cute clothes a calendar in cotton form. While zig-zagging through the aisles, I started to have visions of my daughter growing up in these clothes which served as threaded crystal balls that detailed — or not — some big events.

My life flashed forward to 18 years later. Little Baby Friedman was now college co-ed Friedman (a future Wildcat?) and pledging AEPhi just like her mama! Giraffes are the symbol of my sorority and it would be really cool to one day go to my daughter’s pinning ceremony. And advise her what outfit to wear for a date dash. And inform her that starving yourself for a day and taking lemon drop shots later that evening is never a good idea.

Apparently the baby department decided it was totally acceptable to offer My First Easter bibs but nothing by way of My First Passover bibs. I mean, what baby wouldn’t want a bib to commemorate another Jewish holiday about being slaves… yada yada… bad stuff happening to our people… yada yada… creepy amphibian things falling from the sky… yada yada. But still. What if?! After all, she will be the youngest at the seder table and totally eligible to ask the four questions. Or at least fidget through them. And matzo makes a great pacifier for when she gets fussy. And Manischewitz is so sweet for wine, it’s hardly alcoholic. Look, I’m just sayin’. The Jewish mothers out there would plotz over a My First Passover bib. Get with the program, Carters.

Who can forget that first experience with cake and shoving a giant fistful in the mouth, tasting frosting for the first time and discovering a new form of baby crack? That’s what the first birthday is all about, right? So, here, in plain sight, I found the most adorable first birthday dress. A little birthday confection. A little birthday tu-tu. It’s the perfect outfit. No, no, I didn’t buy it, but I’ll admit that I hope it’s still on the rack in 18 months for when she turns one. And, my wise mother said, “Don’t rush things.” Yeah, like I would ever do that! (This is sarcasm).

Bryan and I plan to raise a socially aware and compassionate daughter. And if she’s anything like me, she’ll love the gays and the gays will love her. I can already picture it now: the theatrical boy in Mommy & Me class will cling to her and they will babble together about musical theater and debate the pros and cons of skinny jeans. So, I chuckled to myself when I saw this outfit, perfect for her first Gay Pride Parade event.

No doubt, this little girl of ours will enjoy the Barbie aisle and have her own stash. I still remember looking at my mom’s Barbies from 1824 the ’60s and being totally fascinated by their vintage details. Now that I see what current Barbies look like, I’m thinking Baby Friedman is going to feel the same about my dolls from the 80s. I mean, look at this modern day Ken … or should I say Bieber Ken! Please, Dear God, come up with better looking Ken dolls and don’t make them look like pubescent, mediocre-singing “heartthrobs.”

So, you see, it’s easy to know what modern merchandising deems important and appropriate in our childrens’ lives. It’s already been laid out for me and some of it’s cute, some of it’s not, and some of it’s annoying. But it sure takes out all the guess work. Okay, maybe not all. I strolled the aisles of Babies-R-Us the other night and almost fainted. We need a whole other manual for that.