Friday, May 23, 2008

If you are a new mom I want to help you--part I



I can't help myself.

I feel sooooo sorry for you. When you pop your little soybean out of its salty, wet shell you will be in shock for months.

You are shopping solo at Whole Foods--serenely rubbing your belly with one manicured hand and ever so slowly and carefully examining local organic apples with the other. Because you are not feeding your baby pesticide-ridden, bruised apples from New Zealand.

You are the same mama who --without fail---every 2 weeks schedules massages with a hunky Swiss emigre with eyes as dark as soot; the same mama who made a plastered impression of your hennaed belly.

You are the mama who has never missed one prenatal yoga class in the 8-week series you purchased as a gift to yourself. Ommmmmmmmmmm


OMIGOD. Darling, you are in for a very rude, insistent and literal awakening. We're not talking about a demure Victorian awakening from the fainting couch. We're talking "The Mummy" here. For the next few years you will be one of the Walking Dead.

I was you. I arched my perfect brow at mamas like me, in the ill-fitting sweats with the enormous milk-filled orbs (good God, woman, find a bra that FITS--you may think).

You are going to make a mental note to self, you are never going to look like the woman over there. NEVER, ever... but see... looks aren't everything and if they really are to you, everything--I do look a little like Yoda. So you might want to heed my words.



Lesson #1: Vans are sexy, iight?

Without one you just may never get lucky. One day you will see me singing in my minivan like I just got laid. My husband looks hot in a minivan--what can I say? Scrunched with knees in chin is never sexy on a man. Legroom = an increase in your almost non-existent mama-baby nursing libido. Should you get the urge on "date night" (which is HIGHLY unlikey, by the way) the seats flatten behind the tinted windows. When you see me singing your mini-cooper is going to feel like a hyperbaric chamber. Go ahead honey---live large in a minivan. You'll thank me later. And so will your husband. But vacuum first or you may find cheddar bunnies in places you never thought possible. Trust me.


Lesson #2: You're going to look like shit, no matter what you do...

so just accept it and accessorize. You can get a baby carrier, diaperbag, stroller, and cloth diapers that are so cute no one will look at you. Ever. This is a good thing as strange things will happen to your appearance after your little lovemuffin makes his grand entrance. First, casual observers focus on the baby (unless you are a fool and accessorize with a puppy--then they'll look at the puppy(or kitten) and quite possibly overlook the baby entirely. More on your pet later...) After they look at the baby they gaze in wonder and amazement at all of the gadgetry available to 21st century mamas. Most likely you'll hear something like "I wish they had that when Edwin Jr. was a baby..." Bonus points: If no one offers little wisdom nuggets like "that baby looks cold" or "have you given her sugar water yet, you should really TRY that" or asks "is she sleeping through the night?" the stunning diaperbag, your whimsical baby carrier and your baby's very strange clothing (baby leg warmers are 'da bomb!) and cloth-diapered bubble butt will have fulfilled their purpose. You've stunned them like a common housefly with your tennis-racquet-shaped sharper image battery-operated zapping fly swatter. It's Mama's arsenal and you are going to want as many hand grenades as you can gather for yourself. And of course, for the baby...


Lesson #3: Your dog is not your baby.



People push their dogs in strollers.

I hope you are not one of them. If you are---or if you have thought of purchasing a Peg Perego-knockoff dog stroller get over it. Right now. Because one day you might get really annoyed that you have one more creature to nurture and another useless item to store and then sell on Craigslist (to other freaks that push an animal that has FOUR perfectly good legs and a NEED to exercise---do you really want those people on your doorstep?) around in a PRAM like a wannabe mommy. Wean the dog off of your proverbial teat. Or you'll be sorry.


Lesson 4: Don't buy this:















Holy Crap! It's a $300 diaper pail



This is to collect the little nuggets of gold that celebrity children named "Peanut" or "Irish Spring Rose" are known to express into their g-diapers. The pail comes already deodorized with their parent's signature fragrance (that they, personally have spent many lab-coated hours developing themselves .) You are not a celebrity. You won't get this gratis. UsWeekly is not coming to take pictures of your nursery. 'Nuff said.

1 comment:

Shaken Mama said...

Man, you really let yourself go. My trick today is not washing my face, so I'm always wearing a little bit of make-up.