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Big news, people! I‘m going to be a grammy! Mimi. Gigi. MeeMaw. Nana. Nanny. Nonie. Whatever happened to just plain Grandma? At any rate, prepare for unparalleled excitement and monumental emotion. It’s a whole new generation susceptible to my humiliating column shenanigans!
So, we hosted a co-ed baby shower this past week for my daughter and son-in-law and let’s be honest; it was essentially a big, robust happy hour with diapers and binkies. So many gifts. So many gifts that confused me. I sat in stupefied amazement as to what couples need to accommodate a baby in this decade. I guess a blankie and a few clothespins for playing are no longer accepted baby items. For instance:
A “Shusher:” Literally, a battery-operated device that shushes the baby endlessly. This takes the place of an exhausted, drippy-milk breasted mother who can’t say another “SHHHH’” if her depleted life depended on it. My own daughter had a case of vicious, unending colic. We had no Shusher. We had the vacuum cleaner. We turned it on, and it quieted her screams like freaking magic. We broke it because I guess they aren’t made to stay on in one place for 10 hours. Whatever. It saved everyone’s life.
Gripe Water, Probiotic Colic Drops: Because the statute of limitations has passed, I can now admit that I secured a black market, old pharmaceutical item to throw down my daughter’s throat when her howling reached the six-hour mark: catnip and fennel. This was before it was brought back as a new urban, hippe-dippie oil. Back then, it was 100% proof of solitude, and quite possibly FDA prohibited.
Teething apparatuses and toys: Parents: unnecessary. A teething baby needs a frozen washcloth or a frozen bagel, and according to my mother, whiskey on their gums. That’s it. ALSO, toddlers don’t know care about pricey gadgets! Trust me on this. I got out of the shower once to find my son playing with tampons and Q-tips, happy as a baby sitting in his own sh*&. Throw the box in the mix and he didn’t move for three hours. Save your damn money.
Breast feeding paraphernalia: When my poor, old, saggy boobs were aching from hours of unproductive breast feeding, I soothed them the way my mother did and generations before her: I froze cabbage leaves and placed that hearty vegetable over my poor chest. Honest. I smelled like haluski for days, but I tell you … the old world ways work! As a result, cabbage now turns my stomach, just like apricot brandy does, but in 1991, it was a miracle. The cabbage leaves. Not the brandy. Maybe the brandy.
Changing ports, tables, and pads. Fancy, fancy expensive crap to change a stinking diaper. I would lie a baby on any available floor and change that loaded Pamper. I didn’t care about dirt, germs or dog hair. I just wanted the stink to leave. My friend, Jen, changed her baby’s diaper in the trunk of her car! And he lived! It’s amazing how germophobic mothers are these days. I swear to you, if your child never gets dirty, they will never build-up a tolerance to dirt. Throw a goat or pig in their nursery while you’re at it and that baby will never be sick!
Here’s what: you’ll make so many mistakes. You just will. I mean, if you don’t hit your baby’s head off a door frame, are you even a first-time parent?! Stuff happens and they will be JUST FINE. You don’t need 150 things in a registry. Here is all you will need: A universe of patience, infinite love, diapers, more love and catnip and fennel. It’s legal now. I think.