Momenemies of the Mom of a Newborn

Momenemies of the Mom of a Newborn
We all know the basics enemies of new mommy sucktitude: endless feedings, endless crying, endless baby weight, etc. The enemies below are a little lesser known, but just as evil.

Germs They're everywhere. Or so people would like to have you think. Banning a mom indoors for three months because it is cold and flu season is just cruel. Does it really matter that I take the baby to the grocery store to get some milk? I plan on leaving them in their pumpkin seat and covering them in an infant Haz Mat suit, if it helps. I promise not to let anyone with the Plague sneeze on them or let them lick any toilet seats or eat any raw chicken while we are out. I get that germs are bad, but I have a two-year-old in daycare. She is like a walking case of rubella. Can I please just go outside? PLEASE?

 The Veteran Mommy This bitch knows everything. From breastfeeding to sleep training to vaginal rejuvination, the Veteran Mommy knows it all and isn't afraid to tell you about it. As a new mom, she can be both your best resource and worst enemy. She can make you feel relieved and stupid at the same time. Now that I am two deep in the world of drunken midgets, I try to keep my Veteran Mommy advice to a minimum for newbies, but it is HARD.

Vomit It's everywhere. Your hair, your ears, your clothes your mouth. Babies are disgusting, and now, you are too. You will go out in public to pick up some diapers and feel that you have done a pretty good job of making yourself presentable only to discover that you have baby vomit all down the back of your shirt. Oh, sorry, that sour milk smell is me. Can you pass me that pack of Trident?

Boobs Once a pair of beautiful pillows to push up and out to flaunt and make men go crazy, boobs are now gigantic and painful sacks of milk that spring leaks at will. Amazonian nipples, a track of veins more pronounced than a heroin addict's and silicone-looking fullness make a new mama's boobs less about sexuality and more about biology.

Sleep Sleep is a thing of the past (duh!). If you manage to get any, it is more like drunk sleep where you wake up feeling worse than when you went to bed. An hour here, three hours there, it never really adds up to a well-rested mama. And whoever started this "sleep when the baby sleeps" crap is an asshole. Right, I will sleep when the baby sleeps, and wake up to the same stack of dishes, loads of laundry, vomit-covered couch, empty bottles, full trash cans, uncooked breakfast/lunch/dinner, etc. WHAT A GREAT IDEA! Moron.

The Drive-by Pediatrician This is what I like to call the busy bodies who like to give you random parenting advice wherever you are. You know, like in line at Arby's, the grocery store, gas station bathrooms, etc. Many times, these know-it-alls haven't even birthed no babies but they love to tell you what they think you are doing wrong. Feel free to punch them in the neck and move on.

Pooping After you have a baby, pooping becomes one of the scariest things on the planet. If you had a c-section, the thought of popping a stitch or using your stomach muscles in any fashion makes you want to start on a starvation diet so you never have to go to the bathroom again. If you pushed your baby into this world, your “area” has just received a beating 18x as bad as a pack of midgets could deliver with their tiny little fists. Either way, the thought of pushing anything else out of your nether regions is horrifying. Also, word to the wise, take stool softeners until the first #2 happens. You will thank me later.

Travel Going anywhere with the baby is a feat of titanic proportions. Before you had a child, you just grabbed your purse (which contained everything you ever needed in life) and headed out the door. Now, you have to plot the trajectory of the baby's eating/sleeping/pooping schedule along with the lunar phase of Mars, pack a bag filled with every item a baby could ever possibly need, make sure the baby is fed and changed, stop to change the baby again because they just pooped and threw up at the same time, contact the Dr. to make sure it is OK to go to the store for more milk even though it is cold/flu season, remember where your car keys are, remember where you were going in the first place, etc. Then, once you finally get the baby all strapped into the car seat and ready to go, you realize that your boobs have leaked through your shirt and you have to head back in the house and start the process all over again. REALLY?

The Real World Venturing out into the "real world" is now a very scary ordeal. Even though it has only been a few weeks, you now can't remember how anything works. How do I get the store to let me take the things in my cart home? I remember it has something to do with plastic. Where does the grocery store keep that white stuff that comes in a jug that cows make? You are now a sleep-deprived zombie mommy that actually scares people when you go out in public. Plus, you smell like vomit and haven't combed or washed your hair in a week.

Your Husband Once the wonderful man who you couldn't wait to have children with, your husband in now the bastard that got you into this whole situation. Just looking at his asshole face makes you want to punch him in the neck. In your eyes, everything that he now does is annoying, from the way he sleeps, to the way he holds the baby (the WRONG way). No matter what he does and how well he means, the mere site of him can send you into a postpartum rage. And why does he keep asking if you are OK and backing away slowly?

Visitors Visitors mean well (mostly). They want to see what your loins have produced and hold a sweet baby without the commitment of getting up 16 times in the middle of the night to feed it. They also want to see how labor treated you and if you have lost the weight/your schmidt yet. Knowing you have a visitor coming, even for a short time, kind of ruins your day. You have to do the ungodly (shower, comb your hair and remove your pajamas), try to act like you still know how to form sentences and remember what the real world is like, and entertain someone in your house while it looks like a baby tornado hit it. It is tedious and a bit demoralizing. If you are a visitor, you better bring a gift and food.

The Crazy Train Every new mom takes at least short ride on The Crazy Train (AKA postpartum depression). Uncontrollable crying, feeling completely alone, wanting to run away screaming and never look back. You know, the fun stuff. I took a pretty long ride with my first. I remember telling her little newborn self that I would throw her down a well if she didn't stop the endless crying. Don't call DCFS, I was just joking…mostly. I don't even know where to find a well and she was probably crying because she could see The Crazy Train coming down the tracks. Oops.

Want to read more Momenemies? Read my post about Momenemies of a Daycare Mom or head on over to Rants from Mommyland for more fun.