Boppy Wisdom for New Moms

Noah's Ark

I really hadn't noticed how much the children's retail industry had a corner on the Noah's Ark market until I started preparing for little Gwen's arrival and receiving shower gifts with that lovable boat and animal theme. But it wasn't until after I gave birth that it struck me how bizarre the whole connection is between children and the Ark.

And this isn't at all, one single bit, a slight on those kind folks who generously gave us Noah's Ark themed baby gifts, it's just that I never really thought about it until now. Perhaps you're wondering, "What's she talking about? Cute animals go into a cute boat two by two and there's a rainbow at the end of the story. That's the perfect recipe for PJ prints and crib bumpers" (which I have-- and use-- both of). But think about the story thus:

God sees wickedness all over the world (except for Noah and his fam).

God sends a flood to DESTROY THE EARTH and all its vileness.

Noah, fam and animals are lock-boxed up in a giant, floating would-be coffin to evade the disaster.

And yes there's a redemptive promise at the end, but it boggles my mind how not only that someone created a pink, fuzzy rendition of probably the most horrific event in all of world history, but that we all eat it up (and pay good money for it, too)! It's a wonder small children who are exposed to this dichotomy don't have some sort of breakdown whenever they go to the zoo.

The next thing you know we'll be dressing up the devil in a little red jumpsuit and stick a pitchfork in his hand. Now there's something to market.

Murphy's Law

Murphy's law is...

...being wide awake while feeding the baby. At 5 am.

...getting a hunger pang just as your finishing feeding the baby at 5 am-- and you know how hard it is to go back to sleep when you're hungry.

...being wide awake at 5 am and dead tired at 8 am, when the day actually needs to start.

...getting stuck with pregnancy duty for nine months, and when baby finally arrives, their cries sound like "MAMMAAAA!". At 5 am. Why can't they sound like "DADDAAAA!"?

...your milk makers waking you up before your hungry baby wakes you up, so that you're just lying in bed just hoping for that blessed "MAMMAAAA!" at some forsaken hour of the morning. I mean, come on!

...how magically blessed turns into dreaded, when baby's fed and you finally lay your head back down to sleep.

Wish me luck.

On with the Blog!

Ok, I can use the whole "I'm a new mom" excuse and never get to this blog, leaving all 2 of you in suspension until Gwenivere goes off to college, but I'm gonna have to face the music some day and realize that I need a "me" moment, collect my thoughts--and disperse them all over cyber space. I guess that's one of the weird things about blogging. It's like, "Dear Diary... and the UNIVERSE". Anyway, I'm sure I'll get over the exposure and the draft soon enough.

So-- Gwen turned 11 weeks old today! Happy Weekday, bunkin! When I've had moments of sanity and sleep (which always go hand-in-hand) over these past two and a half months, I've been reflecting on this whole baby thing. It's all pretty amazing. Here's this nothing inside of you, except your own organs and bones and a mish-mash of squishy stuff, and then-- POOF!-- human being, right there, soul and all. AMAZING. Not only that, in a matter of 9 months (really, only months. I counted.), little Miss One-Cell, becomes a whole huge mini adult, receding hairline and all! Then, it's not as if they just stay there, no. They COME OUT. And God bless Mr. Epidural.

Having a baby has really been a blessing. You'd think it's fun enough just being pregnant. People going out of their way to care for you, asking how you're feeling; asking about the little bundle inside, "Is it a boy or a girl?" You get to wear cute tops especially made to show off your epitome-of-a-woman belly (two syllables there: SE-XY). You get to take work off for weeks and weeks and do absolutely nothing if you want. Screw laundry-- you're pregnant! You may as well walk around with a halo on your head because, yeah, you're special, and everybody knows it. And birth control, shmirth control. But the fun doesn't stop there. For 9 months of good times, you get a baby out of the deal! A real one! If you thought people ooh-ed and ahh-ed over you before, check you out with a newborn in your arms. That's money right there.

But all seriousness aside, I've always had my doubts about being a mom, but nobody ever told me about the superpowers that come with it!

SUPER HEARING - Not only can I hear my baby cry on the other side of walls and walls and a whole floor, I can hear her cry even when she's not crying.

SUPER SMELL - No, I don't have a heightened sense of smell, but rather less discriminating, which allows me to change a FUNKY diaper without so much as a flared nostril. And that's super.

SUPER EMPATHY - Baby cries. What does baby need?? Somehow, more times than naught, I JUST KNOW.

SUPER PATIENCE - Maybe not a super power I've fully exploited, but exploited it more than I probably ever have so far on my tour of the earth.

SUPER ENERGY - Still alive, aren't I?

SUPER FOOD - Who knew us mothers could completely sustain human life simply by whippin' out the boob? Amazing.

SUPER STRENGTH - Even my own very buff husband can't hold a little 13-pound baby for more than a minute without gawping. Who knew my own pea-shooters of arms were really pipes at heart?

Anyway, here's looking forward to the next 11 weeks, and whatever new super powers crop up...

The Secret Lives of Moms

Well, maybe it's not so secret, but just a little oblivious to me.
Today was my first sneak peek in becoming one of "the pack"-- that is, the stay-at-home moms ("stay" used loosely). I went for the first time to a Play Date, a weekly meeting of the ladies and their youngsters from my church at a local park. I had never gone before because it's morning mid-week, when I would normally be working were it not for my glorious maternity leave. To make a short story long and highly introspective, my pregnancy experience has basically been trying to make sense of the world through the eyes of a mother, which has been a joyful and terrifying journey. One of the moms at the park today asked me to watch her two little ones for a few minutes while she went off to another part of the park to take some photographs. "Sure," I obliged casually, while a flash of terror flitted somewhere deep within to produce the following Gollum-like monologue:

"Sarah, you are now the responsible adult for the safety and well-being of these two precious children. Do not let them out of your sight!"

"Now just calm down. There are a half dozen set of moms' eyes in the immediate area to keep watch for all the kids."

"But YOU'RE still the one responsible."

"I'm sure nothing will happen..."

"But are you sure you're ready to handle this responsibility when it's your OWN kid? 24/7?"

"Um..."

"Well, that wasn't a very encouraging response, but there's no backing out now."

"Tell me about it, I'm as big as a house (well, a sensible apartment, anyway). How do these moms do it, anyway?"

"Beats me. But they always seem to have snacks handy. That's probably a big part of it."

"I like snacks. I can do snacks."

"That's the spirit. Now where are those kids..."

This sort of monologue has been continuing throughout the whole of my pregnancy, though in varying degrees of neurosis. I suppose all first-time moms go through this to one degree or another, so I should probably feel like this is all normal. After all, having children is the most natural thing in the world, right? So why is it that this has such an effect on half of the entire human population throughout all of history? Maybe it has something to do with the helplessness of babies? Maybe it has something to do with the sanctity of human life? Maybe it has something to do with the spiritual ramifications of parenting? Maybe it's something else, but one thing I do know, for as long as we're having babies, Quaker, Nabisco, Kraft and Dannon are always going to stay in business.

"Babies are such a nice way to start people."--Don Herrold

My name is Sarah Vaughan, I'm 28 years old and a soon-to-be first-time mom. I'm hoping I'll retain some sort of social behavior after I pop, but for those that will simply pine away without a weekly update on the Vaughan family of three, this blog may suffice :) In the meantime, it's just me blogging about what every expectant mom would blog about, and more!