There is a bank teller at my local bank, a pretty girl who is in a committed relationship and is somewhere in the vicinity of approaching thirty years of age. She bought a house a year or two ago with her significant other, and she has confided, well, told everyone who goes into the bank, that she & her significant other are considering having a baby. But she hesitates entering the “baby stage” of life. And with good reason. She has seen with her own two eyes the demise of many a woman who walks into her bank, myself especially. She has seen me go from hot, young thing, to avpretty preggo, to a no makeup, messy0-haired, holding-a-baby-with-spit-up-on-clothes lady.
Whenever I go into the bank, I usually either get her as a bank teller, or she walks over to whomever I am with (small town, small bank, small line-ups!), and it’s usually to see the baby. Oh my goodness, the baby! He’s so cute! How old is he now? Those eyes! That smile! He’s going to be a heart breaker! And then after all the hubub about the baby, everyone always turns to the mom (that’s me!) and asks, “And how have you been doing? Are you sleeping yet?”
The answer, which most moms with babies give, is one of the following: “I’m managing.” (which is always true) “Barely sleeping.” (sometimes true) “Living off coffee.” (Okay, this is my reality, so it is all about me and my answers here!)
With each statement the pretty bank teller’s eyes grow bigger and bigger, her head keeps nodding, and she has this look of fear and puzzlement, whereas anyone else in the area who is already a mom knows all this and agrees, c’est la vie! Such is life! I mean, babies are cute and all – they’re babies! They’re adorable. Their soft skin, and baby butts, and cute little feet! The fine hair, the big eyes, the puffy cheeks!
But as parents, we have to endure not only the cute and adorable side of babyhood, but also the gross part of babies. We hold these testaments as our badges of honor, we have suffered and triumphed through many a disgusting, bothersome and annoying part of having a baby. And it is OUR RIGHT as parents to STRIKE FEAR INTO THE HEARTS of these CHILD-LESS FOLK.
I love to regale this bank teller with my current baby horror story – the diaper blow-out in the line-up at Starbucks (and I still waited in that line and allowed the smell to envelope the crowd. mama needed her coffee, tough balls.), the baby vomit in my hands while at brunch, baby poop in the bathtub, the leaky diapers, the NO SLEEP ALLOWED rules (waking up every two, three hours), the baby WON’T take a bottle, and the absolute worst tale I’ve ever told her: that I don’t have time in the morning to do my hair. I think that one made the eyes in her head pop out.
She tells me she’s “very type-A personality, very organized, very scheduled” and even though she knows she wants a baby, she’s just not sure when or how a baby would fit in their/her life, she flips her curly hair over her shoulder. I nod. I was just like you, I tell her, as I walk away in my uniform of black loose t-shirt on top of black lulu leggings, letting the look of horror take over her face while I carry my adorable little baby boy home.