Baby clothes come in three sizes. There is the zero to three month, three to six month, and six to twelve months. Sounds simple, right?

Except, according to my friends who are mothers, the zero the three month stuff, which ought to last -- you guessed it -- for three months -- only fits most babies for the first six to eight weeks of their lives. "Do not get too much of the teeny tiny stuff," they warned me, "because the Bun will not be wearing it very long. But get enough for frequent changes, because the baby will spit up and make messes."

So now I'm confused. How much was I supposed to get? Do I have too much? Not enough? And do I just get the little snap-front onesies, or actual little outfits with, you know, hats and accessories? And do babies actually like the sleep-sack things with the ripcords at the bottom? Because to me they look weird, but all of the layette lists say I'm supposed to have a few. And what about shoes? None of the books mentioned shoes. But the stores have newborn-size shoes, and now I can't figure out whether they're something a newborn would actually require, or just a scam designed to separate gullible new moms from their money.

Adam and I went to Old Navy over the weekend, where they have the cutest baby clothes ever, so of course I went slightly insane. I mean, if they have the cute little snap-crotch denim overalls for $12.50, shouldn't I get them in all three sizes? And in khaki? And terrycloth? And a bunch of funky sunhats, because we're going to the Cape this summer, and I have no idea whether the Bun's head is going to be zero-to-three month size or three-to-six-month size, or what. Although if the Bun takes after me we're pretty much guaranteed a great gargantuan cranium (have I mentioned that my mother, for a mercifully short period of time, was calling me Bighead?)

I think Adam was holding it together pretty well until we headed toward the checkout, and then I sort of faked left, headed right, and zipped (well, okay, waddled briskly) back toward the baby stuff. "Just one more thing!" I called over my shoulder. "Socks! I forgot socks!"

Well. One more thing, six more things. Who's counting, right?

Then we went home to wash everything. I can already see that the little bitty baby socks are going to be a problem. I have a terrible time keeping track of my own socks, which are normal sized, so how am I supposed to keep tabs on little scraps of cotton no longer than my thumb? We did the first batch -- the zero-to-three-month stuff -- and we tried to keep the little bitty baby socks in little bitty bundles, but I'm already thinking we may have lost a few soldiers.

Also, is Catherine Zeta-Jones really two weeks more pregnant that I am? Can I file a protest about this somewhere?

We had a lively debate about Mrs. Michael Douglas in my prenatal yoga class tonight. The instructor was insisting that she actually looked as though she's put on a normal amount of pregnancy weight. Most of the students seemed to agree that she's setting an unrealistic precedent by squeezing into an evening gown and singing her little heart out at a point when many of us are having trouble climbing our own stairs.