Sunday, January 27, 2008

Essentials continued...

A few other gems I'm working:

1) A vibrator massager. Geesh get your head out of the gutter! A massager-for your neck. (Though you may need that kind of vibe too-see previous post) You will spend so much time hunched over...sticking your nipple into baby's mouth is hard on your posture. Cuddling baby close and willing him to shut up is also bad on your posture. Balancing baby who has little neck control in one arm while you pour a strong drink with the other-ditto.

2) Confidence-or a confident "I don't give a shit" act you can put on. I had to breastfeed baby at a cool downtown restaurant whilst lunching with my visiting mom the other day. Then I had to change baby in their changetable deficient, ultra-sleek, tiled and air-conditioned ladies room on the slim ledge of their marble one-piece sink. His poopy had seeped through his outfit and onto my "Look! I'm-still- fresh- and- cool- even- though- I- just- had- a- baby- outfit". It smelled. Baby was hard to balance while washing him down and reaching the diaper bag on the floor. He was cold and crying. And fancy, tight- jeans- wearing ladies were going in and out and giving me "the look". I used to give ladies with babies the look. Sigh. So strap on your "Fuck you" face. Make your eyes say: "I have a baby and a loving husband, jealous?" I mean, obviously all those young "look" throwers are members of lavalife and suffering from"why didn't he call me? syndrome, right? Right. Be confident in your venturing out with baby-you deserve to be there too. And if you can't do that, just eat at Applebees and don't whine about it.

3) Strong strong mints. Keep 'em on the bedside table, in the nursery, and scattered around your will not have time to brush your teeth. will have time if your baby is relatively happy in a swing or whatever. But trust me, you will choose checking emails, sitting on the couch comatose, watching reruns on TLC, painting your toenails (for necessary mommy and me yoga) or other luxury things... like eating a piece of bread (your only meal of the day) or finally sipping your cold coffee. Chalk your bad breath up to natural pheromones for baby to recognize you by. And really, it's not like you'll be kissing anyone. I actually mumbled "only if I can just lie here" in response to my husband's ferocious gropings last night. And he was ok with that. Cheers!

My birthday is tomorrow and I am not mentioning it on purpose in that devious game-playing woman's way. Will Hubby pull out all the stops or even remember? Hubby has not bought me anything before when we were poor. But in those times I've maintained that I need a little celebratory action regardless of price: a card...a chocolate...a balloon-anything. But I have little faith he will do anything but say "Happy Birthday. honey" this year. (scorn, scorn, scorn)

Honestly- I never used to be like this. I'm struggling with this whole resentment thing I'm feeling. Hubby actually spends a few soothing minutes reading before bed while I rock crying baby, or feed for the 4th time in two hours, or try shoving gripe water down baby's throat. Ok, he is very helpful usually-but it's true that the work just always falls to the woman. And if you are arguing right now that I asked for this and he goes to work all day to earn money so I can stay home-LA-LA-LA I'm not listening! The devil/angel argument is playing in my head. Angel: "Oh don't worry about it-your birthday is not important in the scheme of things right now". Devil: "You already bought the jerk his first 'to daddy' birthday card for his upcoming birthday, with the express notion of really showing him up when he forgets your birthday tomorrow. So enjoy"

Maybe mothering brings out the innate,conniving bitch in you. Hmmm...that would explain my mother-in-law.

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

Essentials for new moms no one told you about

I'm a new mom. (Haven't really said that out loud yet either!) Any new mom knows how annoying it is to get advice from EVERYONE all the time. But here is my two cents: the essential things you will really need that no one will tell you about.

1) Strong perfume and deodorant. You will stink. You won't be showering and breast milk, like cow milk, goes sour. Especially when it's vomited up. Give yourself a good dousing before your childless friends visit. You know, the ones you want to keep so you don't feel like your whole world became about a baby...a talking in third person world where poop is the main topic of discussion? Trust girlfriend... in their heads they are this close to picturing you in mom-jeans.

2) A husband who makes good money. Or a "partner". Or a lover. A sugar-daddy is basically what I'm talking about. So that you can do "mommy and baby" yoga and become all zen and unworried about things like, oh...the fact that the baby costs at least 20 bucks a week in diapers. That's 1000 bucks a year. Saying good-bye Grande, non-fat lattes? That is just too damn depressing. You need to have the baby and the fucking latte too. You deserve to be a yuppy-yummy mummy just like that bitch you used to see wearing her Lululemons being all skinny and smug at the Starbucks with the newborn, when you were pregnant and F-A-T and miserable. It's your turn. And if you can't be all skinny and smug right now, no worries. No one is perfect. But as long as you got the money, honey, wear your lulus, buy the latte and be smug at the very least.

3) An orgasm. You heard me right. You might think you don't need that right now, but come on! You are still a woman, right? Your boobs are at the biggest and fullest they will probably ever be. And the milk dribbling down your stomach? Hot. Actually, there's lots of net porn dedicated to that very thing. Have a look. It'll make you feel sexier. Then take a look in the mirror, put a leg up and go to town. You will definitely be zen afterwards...and then you can screw mommy and me yoga.

Friday, January 4, 2008

What the-?

What the heck am I doing writing a blog? should be the question. This all started with a very politically incorrect and sort of mean type of inside-my-head rant, years ago while I worked in retail at a sports shop. A lady of large proportions came in, almost at close, and began a massive shop. This is a sports shop. Already in my head "I am not sure what sports this lady is playing or what lycra we have that will fit, but ok" See? Mean. What follows is meaner, so if you're not sarcastic, and are really a sweet kind person-the type who doesn't kill a spider in your house but saves it with a piece of paper and releases it outside-well then please stop reading now. I don't want your comments about how mean I am and how I should take a look in the mirror or whatever. I am mean, I know it, and this is my blog, so shut up.

Muse: "Don't you have any of those sweat suits?"
Me: "Sweat Suits? Like you mean fleece? Jogging pants?"
Muse: "No, no, these suits that make you know they are made out of plastic?"
Me: (Because I am not sport minded at all, have never played organised sports and only work this job to pay for Starbucks, rent and cheap $20 tops from Le Chateau) "Ummm, no I have never heard of that before, sorry."
Muse: "Oh my god they are so great! It's like a plastic airtight suit and you wear it while you workout and it really makes you sweat out extra fat! It really works!"
Me: (inside head) "Huh, really works hey?" And I'm picturing her HUGER than she is now (think not humanely possible) on a treadmill wrapped in some saran wrap get up. "hate to see what size you were before then, honey!"

In telling this story to friends later I realized it was funny to my sort of people. I decided then and there I should write a book someday all about the things I have thought but never said out loud-especially while working in my varied retail jobs. Life goes on and changes and now the blogs the thing. So here I am. Take me as I am.

Me: (inside head) "And if you don't like me, SUCK IT!"