Babies and their Mad Mothers

May 9th – only a month(ish) since the last post.

A pat on the back to me. Oh yes indeed. Maternity leave is full of so much popping to the shops for some bread and watching daytime television and running my moonlighting business (shhhhhh) that I really do need to get back to ‘proper’ work in order to sort this blog out properly.

Anyway, I digress. As ever.

Since having a new baby, I am once again finding myself completely bemused at the utter pickle seemingly reasonable women in their 30s get themselves into when they have a baby.

Professional women – lawyers, teachers, accountants, scientists, doctors – they have a baby and then, for reasons unknown to mankind, turn into madwomen who doubt themselves at every turn and become incapable of arriving anywhere on time.

It is odd beyond belief.

A baby is not a complicated item of kit. It has no long instruction manual because – STOP THE CLOCKS – it doesn’t need one. It eats. It sleeps. It makes strange noises. It lets various products escape its orifices. That’s it. There is no big secret.

They don’t even need cleaning out once a week like guinea pigs.

It’s not a grenade with the pin removed nor will they explode on touch.

So why, oh why, oh why, do some women (and it *is* women in the main) act like they’ve been given a secret mission by MI5 to decode Russian military strategy?

And why, oh why, oh why, do they (these women) make everything so bloody complicated?

A couple of examples:

1. Warming Bottles / Food

Let’s get this straight, I don’t care whether you bottle, breast or feed your baby full fat coke but in the context of feeding I see previously reasonable women either;

1. buying bottle warmers, or
2. boiling a kettle, filling a bowl and then putting a bottle of milk in the water in order to warm it up

Their brains have been completely addled, quite clearly. What is wrong with 10 seconds in the microwave?

“The box says no”.
“The box says it causes hotspots”.

Remember, these are previously intelligent women who wouldn’t believe a box over their own brains. If they thought back to heating soup in the microwave or heating milky drinks in the microwave, what do you do when you take something out of the microwave? Ah ha, that’s right – you stir/shake it! To get rid of those pesky ‘hotspots’. And then, and this is obviously beyond their current thought patterns, you test it to see if it’s the right temperature.

Freaking rocket science, quite clearly.

2. Naps / Sleep

This is a great one. Often, when talking to new mothers, their entire movement patterns are dictated by ‘naps’.

“Oh no, I can’t come then because Jonnykins naps between 11.34am and 12.56am”.
“I would love to, but Quentin goes to bed at 8.39pm”.
“I couldn’t get out of the house because Candida was still asleep”.

“Eh?”

Again – STOP PRESS – baby is not boss – YOU are. If you want to go for coffee, go to work, pick up your older child, the baby (yes, even little Quentin), will have to jolly well lump it. And if they are tired, they will fall asleep again. Or they’ll just have to bloody well wait.

I’d love to waltz into work an hour and a half late and announce, “well, I just didn’t wake up – you don’t want to disturb my routine now do you?”. Or not take my son to school because none of us have woken up just yet.

Remember – these are previously sensible women who held down demanding and professional jobs.

Completely and utterly baffling.

 

And what worries me the most I suppose, is that if they act like this with a ‘simple’ baby – what on earth are they going to do when Quentin is brought back home by the police at 16, drunk and stoned, and facing a shoplifting charge?

But maybe that will never happen – because after all, Quentin had a lovely early sleep routine and his bottles were never warmed in the microwave.

Anyway, must go, need to collect the 5 year old.

But damnation on a stick – the baby’s asleep! What shall I do?

Hey ho, I’m sure the teachers won’t mind waiting.

BadMummy x x x

About badmummydiary

one five year old. one under one. they do not define me. but do make me rant.
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