Babies Don't Have It So Good

When I am in public, my 6-month-old snuggled in a wrap on my chest, I find that people are jealous. Not of me, but of Gabo. They are under the false assumption that he "has the life." Yes, at the moment he is warm and cozy snuggled up on his mother's chest. But that could all change at the drop of a hat.

Would I rather be an adult or a baby? An adult, hands down. Because when you are a baby ...

• You are sitting in, and often covered in poop, at least once a day. When your diaper doesn't hold it goes up your back. On really bad days it finds it way into your socks. No matter how quickly your parent detects the mess you have still spent a period of time sitting in your own feces.

• You deal with ongoing pain for 2 years. Teeth attempt to push through your sore gums, not all at once in a humane manner, but one at a time. Once you feel relief it starts again. Despite having frozen objects thrust into your mouth or swallowing some sticky faux grape flavored liquid, you still hurt.

• When your nose is stuffy you can't eat. Adults have the choice of keeping their mouths open. While possibly not appreciated by their dinner partners, the choice is there. You either can't eat or you dribble sticky breast milk or formula down your chin.

• You don't have fine motor skills. This is a true detriment when you have an older sibling or two, shoving toys, their bodies or any other object they can find into your face. You have no recourse but to sit there and take it, sometimes squirming and flailing your arms, but rarely to any useful end.

•  Dignity? What is that? You have no privacy. Your diaper may be changed in the back of a car, on the hood of a car or on a public lawn. Worse still, you may be changed in a public bathroom. If luck is on your side the changing table may be in a stall but how often does that happen? Usually you are being changed in the line of bathroom traffic, your parent often being in the way and attracting the attention of others. You are subjected to the "oohs and ahhs" that come from viewing a cute baby behind when you just want to be clean. 

• Despite your best effort to perfect different cries your parents rarely get it right. They overreact and their exhaustion and anxiety get in the way. You are held when you don't want to be, put down when you want to be held. You are fed when you aren't hungry and changed when your diaper isn't wet. You feel like your parents should get it which leads to more frustration and crying. Why can't they get it right?

• For your safety you are often strapped into car seats, high chairs, swings, bumbos, jumpers and vibrating seats. You just want to be let loose on the world. You want to put that stale cheerio in your mouth that you spied on the floor. You don't care that you don't have teeth. You just want to be free.

As I sit here typing and Gabo sleeps soundly on my chest I admit that there are moments when he has it good. But soon he will wake.

Laughing through the Chaos

I stood in a parking lot behind a Royal Farms gas station. My hands were on my toddler's shoulders and my eyes were scanning the parking lot. I was three minutes away from my sister-in-law Jen's home in Maryland. As I looked at Jen, who was sitting in the passenger seat, I noticed tears streaming down her face. I looked down. Paddy was urinating in a perfect arc into a storm drain three feet away.

After eight and a half hours in the car and three hours of broken sleep, I agreed that an outing with a four-month-old, a six-month-old and a three-year-old sounded good. It was a beautiful fall day and so Jen and I packed them in the car and set out for a shopping plaza "15 minutes away."

About two minutes into the ride, Captain America fell to the floor. I weathered the tantrum that followed. It was easier than pulling over on a four-lane highway and climbing into the rear of our RAV4 to find it. The tantrum ended and then Gabo, our six-month-old, took over. His fussing quickly escalated to heart-wrenching sobs that lasted the duration of our much-longer-than-15-minutes trip.

"Maybe it is a little farther than I said," Jen said. "You do drive slower than me."

I assured my sister-in-law that it was fine, despite being crammed into the car, driving unfamiliar roads on little sleep and little caffeine. We'd have to get there eventually and then everything would be o.k., right?

We finally pulled off of the highway and stopped behind a long line of traffic. Missing the first green light, Jen felt confident that we would get through the next. The car in front of me was small enough for my SUV to push if necessary. I have four-wheel drive and could make it over the hill of a median in the middle of the road. We would get through that light one way or another.

I parked and jumped out of the car as soon as we arrived. Gabo quickly settled into his wrap and sniffled the last of his sobs. He was red-eyed, but no worse for the wear. Paddy, on the other hand, was asleep.

"I'm not getting out of the car," he yelled after I gave a him a soft nudge. "Take me home!"

My usual tactic of gently rousing him  had flopped. There was no way I was putting Gabo back into the car. I pulled out the big guns and offered him both a treat and a toy if he would get out of the car.

Saddled with wraps, diaper bags, purses, a stroller and three small children, we headed to Barnes and Noble. Soon Paddy had his treat and I was able to nurse the baby. For 10 precious minutes all three children were settled and relatively happy.

Then Jen's baby started to fuss. But we soldiered on.

Carter's was having a 50 percent off everything sale and our stomachs were grumbling. After shopping and lunch my niece was tired. Jen carried her to the car and warned me that the ride home would be bad. We prepared for the worst and were pleasantly surprised when both babies rode peacefully, entertained by my toddler. It seemed we would make it home.

And then: "Mama, I have to pee."

Paddy agreed to wait a few minutes to get back to Jen's house.

And then, he began to wail. There was no time to think. I quickly cut across the right lane of traffic fully aware that I was being called a masshole by the driver I cut off. I pulled over and got Paddy out of the car and he soon found a storm drain to pee in.

When our husbands arrived home later that day we recounted our days. They expressed pity for us. It sounded like our day had been terrible and my husband was sad that I hadn't enjoyed the time with his sister.

This could not be farther from the truth. We hadn't had a terrible day and we had enjoyed ourselves.

Jen had been there to calm me down and reassure me when I didn't think I could take one more second of Gabo's cries. She watched Paddy for me while I nursed the baby.

I waited at the counter for Jen's food so she could feed her daughter. I pushed the stroller so she could carry her to the car. I picked up the baby's sock when it fell and retrieved the other from a stranger who was chasing after us with it.

Jen told my son he could pee in a parking lot instead of having an accident in the car.

If either of us had been alone that day it would have been terrible. We would have cried instead of laughing. Instead we were able to understand and support each other at the moments we needed it most.

Despite the chaos, we were able to laugh and truly enjoy our time together. And, in the end, we made it out with a story to tell.

Scrutinized More Than Supermodels

Mothers are scrutinized more than supermodels. Every decision we make may come under fire. I have received unsolicited comments and advice from people I love dearly, complete strangers and everyone in between. I have been judged for how I feed, sleep, nurture and play with my children. These are the top comments that left me speechless.Well, not really speechless, that's pretty hard to do.

6. "You are still breastfeeding?" Yes, I am still providing healthy, nutritious, germ-fighting food to my child despite him being alive for more than 365 days. While giving milk that came from a cow's udder may be enticing, I am going to stick with what my human body provides. Silly, I know.

5. "We just fed our babies sweetened condensed milk." I guess this was a recommended source of nutrition in the 1950s. I scoured the internet but could not find any research to support opening a can a sweet-milk for my infant son.

4. "Breast-fed babies are too skinny." Tell that to my 18-pound five-month-old. Apparently, he did not get the memo.

3. "You people do that a lot around here, I can't say anything, but it's not recommended." "You people" are us Birkenstock wearing liberals in the Pioneer Valley of western Massachusetts. What we "do" is bed-share with our babies. Believe it or not, we are educated and know that there is research that supports safe bed-sharing. I tend to shy away from getting drunk, lighting up a cigarette and plopping onto a waterbed with my infant.

2. "Don't wiggle your fingers so close to his face, he will go cross-eyed." I'll let this one speak for itself.

1. "Good grief, can that baby breathe in there?" This is by far my favorite and a response to a picture of my infant son snuggled in a wrap that my husband had posted on Facebook. No, I did not spend 9 months--big, swollen, sore, and cranky, shunning caffeine and alcohol--to turn around and suffocate my infant in a wrap.  But, thank you for bringing that horrific image to mind.