I recently encountered a sanctimommy. I could sense she was a sanctimommy right from the get-go but decided to give her the benefit of the doubt because the conversation started off innocently enough. She had asked the question “Why don’t some women breastfeed? It’s the best choice for your baby and I have no idea why someone wouldn’t do it if they were capable.” I rolled my eyes hard at the computer screen Keep on reading!
A lot of my friends have had babies over the past few months. There’s something about looking at those tiny little faces and chunky cheeks and wisps of hair that makes my ovaries smile and long for another baby. Maybe someday, but I’d prefer to have Charlotte out of diapers before that happens!
I have noticed a lot of friends with new babies have been talking about people touching their babies without their permission. This happened to me a few times, and it was upsetting. I understand that people are drawn to babies. I totally get that. But babies have little to no immune system and don’t need to be exposed to your germs. I think most modern moms agree that touching without permission is a big deal and that people need to know that it’s not okay.
What annoyed me even more than that is when people would not give me back my baby. Here’s the scenario: You go to a friend or family member’s house and everyone is waiting to hold your bundle of joy. You know that they’ve all washed their hands and are each patiently waiting their turn. Your little one starts making the rounds and by the fifth set of arms, they start to cry. The appropriate thing to do in this social setting is to pass baby back to mama. Look, I know everyone wants to be the baby whisperer but 99.999% of time, only mama can console a crying infant. So, do the right thing and hand the baby over and let mommy calm them down. Once babe is settled you’ll all get your turn again. Sounds fair, right?
Well, that’s how it should play out. But sometimes it doesn’t exactly follow that plan. Once, when my daughter was still really small and I was still measuring her age in weeks, I brought her to visit some friends. The crowd was large, a little more than twelve people. I knew that it was going to be hard on both me and Charlotte but I also knew that these friends really wanted some quality time with the both of us, so I put on my brave face and started passing her around.
Surprisingly, she did really well. She slept through most of it and even the few times she did wake, she cooed at everyone and batted her big eyes. It was going smoothly and by the time she got passed into the last set of arms it felt like we were on easy street.
The last person to hold her started with the ‘advice’ right away. It was cringe worthy. She told me all of the things that she did for her kids and how I should be doing those things for Charlotte. I grinded my teeth and smiled through the pain and tried to politely nod my head. Her advice was really not worth listening to and was nothing I would ever consider, but I was trying to be polite.
Just then, Charlotte woke up. She instantly began to howl and I knew it was her hungry cry. I reached to take her back and Miss Know-it-all stood up and began to walk in the opposite direction. I wasn’t even sure how to react because I could not believe what was happening. I bit my lip and searched for the right words and said “I think it’s time she comes back with me, she’s hungry and needs to be fed.” I wanted to yell “Give me back my baby!” but I knew that would sound super rude.
So, she turned and looked at me and I waited for her to pass her over but instead she said, “No, she’s not hungry. She’s tired and needs help going back to sleep. I got this.”
I started seeing red in that moment. Bitch, please. I have spent every hour of my child’s life by her side and I can decipher every one of her cries. She is hungry. Pass her over before I cut you.
I was so upset. I had no idea what to do. I wanted to yell at her but I also didn’t want to cause a scene. She had her back turned to me and was bouncing Charlotte, who was wailing at the top of her lungs. A few more seconds passed and I was on the verge of tears. Finally I said “I’m going to feed her now. Could you please pass her to me?” Miss Know-it-all passed her over but said, “I’m telling you, she’s not hungry. She’s still tired.”
I glared at her as I popped a bottle in Charlotte’s mouth and she anxiously began sucking. I was so angry in that moment. No one knows my baby as well as I do, and when she cries, I know the best way to fix it. How dare she question my motherly instincts?
I learned a lesson that day. I learned that it is perfectly okay for me to say “she needs mama right now” and to take her away from whoever has her. No one should ever try to keep your baby from you while they are crying. I know that everyone has good intentions and a lot of the time they think they are helping, but most of the time it’s just stressing mommy and baby out.
So the next time you’re out somewhere and someone won’t pass back your crying baby, be firm and polite. Tell them they can hold your baby once you’ve managed to soothe them. If you have a real gem on your hands (like I did with Miss Know-it-all) it might be better to get right to the point. They don’t get subtle cues. Say it loud and say it proud, “GIVE ME BACK MY BABY!”
When you become a new mother it can feel somewhat isolating. Your life gets turned completely upside down and your world starts to revolve around this tiny little person who eats, poops and cries a good chunk of the day. You want to socialize with people, but the evenings are tough because you are trying to establish a bedtime routine and during the day, most of your friends are at work.
So, you start looking for mommy friends. You cruise Facebook and join mommy groups who have regular play dates. It only takes a while and suddenly you are invited on your first mommy date!
This is a big deal. So many things are crucial. You want to make sure you’re on time and that you don’t come off too nervous or too eager. Date day comes and goes. And you think it went really well. You made sure that you were on time and you remembered everyone’s name and could even pronounce those baby names that you’ve never even heard before. But then you don’t hear anything for a day. And then it turns into two days, and then a week and then several weeks and then a month. What did you do wrong?
I don’t know specifically what you did or didn’t do during your play date, but I can guarantee that the following things will almost 100% ensure that another mom won’t want to spend time with you again:
Overdressing. By overdressing I don’t mean that you wore too many layers. No, what I mean is that you dressed up like you were going to a job interview. Most moms were probably sporting yoga pants, ponytails and sneakers. If you showed up to a park with flawless makeup, manicured nails and a power suit and heels, then there’s a good chance that the other mommies thought you were ridiculous and that you didn’t actually WANT to be in a park. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look nice, but you need to dress the part. Save your heels for date night or in the bedroom!
Out-doing everyone. Did your baby crawl at five months? That’s fantastic. Did they sleep through the night at two weeks? You’re one lucky lady. Do they take two really long naps every day? I’m jealous. But seriously, don’t brag about this stuff. Especially if another mom is pouring her heart out and talking about her struggles and how tired she is because her baby only sleeps for three uninterrupted hours at a time. Listen to her and let her know that it will eventually get better. Do not try and out-do her and let her know how awesome your child is. Because she’ll start to wonder what she is doing wrong, and the truth is; she isn’t doing anything wrong. No two babies are alike.
Put your phone away!!! Nothing annoys me more than going to dinner with a friend and having them continuously check their phone and answer texts while I am talking to them. It’s rude and shows a lack of interest. When you’re on a play date, it’s about spending time with other moms and talking to them and getting to know them. You can’t do that if you’re looking at your phone every 3-4 minutes for Facebook updates. Seriously, put your phone away for an hour. You and Facebook will both survive.
Terrorizing moms to be. If there happens to be a mommy-to-be at the play date with her cute pregnant belly, do not terrorize her with labor horror stories. Yeah, labor sucks. It’s not exactly a walk in the park but the end result is; you get to meet the love of your life. A first time expecting mom does not want to hear that you were in labor for 56 hours and needed 42 stitches and spent 8 days in the hospital. GTFO here with that. Tell her she’ll do amazing and that they have great drugs for pain.
Hot topics. There are some topics that you just never bring up with other moms. Do not, under any circumstances, offer your opinions on a hot topic during your first mommy date. You will, without a doubt, hurt someone’s feeling. It doesn’t matter if you do or don’t agree with co-sleeping, vaccinations, extended rear-facing, breastfeeding or whatever else the topic may be. Stay neutral. Everyone is doing their best to raise their children in a way that works for them. Which brings me to my next topic.
Don’t be a sanctimommy! If you see someone feeding their child with a bottle and you’re a huge breastfeeding advocate, don’t lecture them on the benefits of breastfeeding. I’m sure they know. And don’t act as if your way of doing things is the only way of doing things, because it’s not. There are tons of different parenting styles and every child is unique and different. If you start with that holier-than-thou shit you can bet your freshly manicured nails that those mommies will never want to see you or your power suit again.
If she’s not calling you, not returning your texts or not answering your Facebook messages, then there is a reason. Something went wrong and she’s just not that into you. It might be her or maybe it’s you. Whatever it is, it’s okay. You’re a new mom. You’re learning and growing. And guess what? So am I. And I might even be guilty of a few of these play dates faux pas. No need to panic. Have a glass (or bottle) of wine and consider it a lesson learned for next time!
As my daughter approaches her first birthday, I have started thinking about motherhood and all of the things it has taught me. I knew before I had her that I would learn new things about myself and life in general, but some of the thing I learned really surprised me. I thought before I gave birth that I was completely prepared to have a child. Little did I know, that giving birth is the easy part! Raising a child is damn hard work and can be completely overwhelming at times.
This past year has been an absolute blur. It had a funny habit of standing completely still and moving at the speed of light..all at the same time!
In the past year, I’ve learned that…
When I was 32 weeks pregnant, my bras stopped fitting. My boobs were getting bigger and achier by the day. I was busting out of my D cup and had no choice but to go to a DD. I noticed that the DD cup sizes were less cute than the C and D cup sizes. Less cute prints and more solid colors, but I still managed to find a leopard print bra and a hot pink one, so I was satisfied.
Two days after I had my daughter, my boobs looked like they were on steroids. They were ginormous. They hurt to touch and I was pretty sure that milk was going to explode out of them if a bra even grazed my nipples. But the problem though, was that if I wasn’t wearing a bra then the nursing pads had nothing to rest in and hold them in place. After a couple of weeks of sports bras I was ready to try a regular bra again, but my DD did not fit. I knew I had to go out and buy a few new bras, and I knew it would be difficult. What size even comes after DD? DDD? E? I was starting to feel like I was getting ready to shop for batteries with all of these letter combos in my head.
My mom said she would watch my daughter for me so I could get out for a few hours. So I did what any self-respecting new mom does. I threw on some yoga pants, shoved my hair in a ponytail and headed to Target.
Ah Target, the magical land of Starbucks, dollar bins and a great assortment of bras. I immediately got a lovely, ultra-caffeinated beverage and headed to the lingerie section.
Right away, I steered myself away from the cute and frilly bras with pretty floral designs and lace. No, they don’t make DDD in those patterns. DDD is limited to black, white, beige and cream. I still wasn’t sure what size I was so I grabbed an assortment and headed to the fitting rooms.
When I got to the fitting rooms I noticed the lady ahead of me had a stroller with a cute little baby in it. “Poor thing, no one to babysit for her while she’s out clothes shopping,” I thought to myself. She, like me, had a bunch of bra’s and was trying to juggle her merchandize and her stroller. Luckily, the young girl working the fitting rooms came to her rescue and got her situated in the room next to me.
First up, 38DD. I wasn’t sure if it would fit but it looked big on the rack so I decided to give it a shot. I wasn’t even done putting it and was like “nope, not gunna work.” That got placed in the ‘no’ pile.
Next up was a 40G, I think I might have grabbed it by mistake because it was way too big and there was enough room leftover in the cups to fit a third boob.
I tossed that one aside too. I picked up the next one from my pile. A black bra that actually wasn’t too granny looking. I tried it on. 38DDD, it was close to the right size, but not quite. And that’s when I spotted the 40DDD. “That has got to be the winner”, I thought to myself.
I picked it up and tried it on. It was cream colored, and actually not a bad fit. Not exactly perfect. The 38DDD was a little too tight in the band and the 40DDD was a little too loose in the band. But since there’s no such thing as a 39DDD, I figured I’d take what I could get. I tried on one more after that, a stark white 42DD. The fit just wasn’t as good as the 40DDD so it looked like it was going in the ‘no’ pile as well.
Just then I heard my phone go off. It sounded like a text message. I wanted to check and see if it was my mom, I hoping everything was okay at home. It wasn’t my mom, it was a friend checking to see how I was adjusting to motherhood. We texted back and forth for a few minutes. I vaguely heard the mom next to me trying to comfort her crying baby, but I was too engrossed in my messages to take any particular notice.
Ok, mission accomplished. I found one decent bra, I was hoping for two, but one is better than none. As I took off the last reject I noticed my chest felt a little wet. “Weird, I don’t remember spilling my drink.” The baby next door cried again. And that’s when I clued in. “Holy fuck, I just leaked breast milk all over one of Target’s bras!”
I was paralyzed for a minute. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?” I stood there in disbelief, in a state of shock actually. How the heck was this possible?
I touched the bra to see how wet it was. Maybe it was just a drop or two? No no, it was more than a few drops. It was soaked. I wouldn’t have cared so much if it was the bra I had planned on buying because then I could just take it home and wash it, but this was not one of my purchases. “How am I getting myself out of this situation?”
I frantically began googling stuff, like ‘how to get breast milk out of your clothes’. Number one answer; wash it. Oh that’s great, because I have access to a washer and dryer in this 4 by 4 cubicle sized dressing room. “Okay, there has to be a solution. What is the solution, Katie? Think!”
I could put it back on the rack, but that’s gross. No one wants to browse the lingerie section and smell sour milk. That one’s out. What if I ‘accidentally’ get some lip gloss on this bra? It’s white, my pink lip gloss could stain it and when I leave the fitting room I could just tell the girl out front that this item is damaged so I won’t be buying it. But shit, what if she leaves it at the counter with her for a while and it starts to smell of sour milk? No, that is wrong too.
I guess I could buy it? It doesn’t fit and it will never fit, but I see no other solution. I can’t put it back on the rack, because the only rack it belongs on now is the rack that leaked breast milk all over it.
I quickly got dressed and handed my reject pile to the girl out front. “How did you make out?” she asked cheerfully. “Oh, um fine, thank you.” I replied as I hurried off with the two bras in my hand. And then it hit me. I could fucking smell the bra I leaked in. I was horrified. Absolutely horrified. “How in the actual fuck am I going to go through the cash smelling like milk?”
I started walking the store, frantically, not knowing what to do next. I walked to the baby section and pretended to browse, but I was just getting more panicked by the second. So I moved on to the home décor section. I contemplated throwing the two bras on the floor and getting out of the store ASAP, but I just couldn’t do it knowing that someone might pick it up and put it back in the lingerie section.
Then I had an ‘aha’ moment. “I’ll go to the makeup section, find a tester perfume and spray it all over me and the bras. It will mask the smell. I am a fucking genius.”
So, I motored off to the makeup section and started smelling perfumes and body sprays. Most were surprisingly light and airy and would not work. “No, I need heavy duty.” I sniffed a few more and then I found the winner. The kind of perfume your grandmother wears, musky and heavy. It was perfect. I sprayed it all over myself and doused the bras in it. Then I raced for the cash before the smell wore off.
There wasn’t a line for the cash register, just a friendly girl smiling at me from behind her till as I placed the two bras down. “Did you find everything you were looking for?” she asked. And then I saw her eyes twitch; she sneezed loudly and sniffed a few times. “Oh I smell that too, girlfriend. I know I smell like your grandmother getting ready for church on Christmas Eve, but believe me, this is for the greater good and better than the alternative.”
“Your total is $54.05,” she said, and then coughed loudly and sneezed again. I avoided eye contact as I counted out my money and passed her three 20s. She put the bras in a bag and then cleared her throat. I actually felt bad; I think I was causing an allergic reaction. She passed me my change and receipt. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I wanted to shout. But I just quickly gathered my bag and wallet and got the fuck out of there.
When I got to my car I nearly gagged. Now I could smell myself. The perfume smelled toxic. I drove home with the windows down and nearly had to hang my head out a few times just to get some fresh air.
Target Canada closed a few months after this episode happened. I don’t have much to show for Target’s brief stint here. Just a couple of cute dresses and a white bra that has permanent milk stains that will never fit me anyway. I did learn a valuable lesson though; don’t cry over spilled (or leaked) milk. There’s almost always a solution to get out of any situation. I never did have the courage to go back to Target after that. Looks like I’m going to need to make a road trip to the US so that I can reflect back and remember that my most current trip to Target did not involve leaked milk, a destroyed bra and old lady musk.
shedidntcomewithinstructions.wordpress.com 