Let's face it. I kind of have the best job ever. I get to take care of two adorable twins... aaaaand I get to pass them off to their parents for night time. Chaaa ching. Nothing says "I wanna see that baby again" like having a full eight hours of Zzzs. Grahm (usually) doesn't require me to rock him back to sleep.
That being said, I still have to/get to deal with not so fun parts of babies. Today I got pooped on, peed on, spit on, and screamed at with an incredible force for someone who weighs a whoppin' nine pounds. Literally. I didn't know it was possible to pee through your diaper and your onesie onto my shirt. But dear Lord, it definitely is... especially when your diaper is loaded for bear(s). That was more poop than one should ever have to deal with...
Today Nicola (the twins' wonderful mother) and I went to Mommy and Me Yoga. Yes, these things really do exist. Anna was a little cranky for it, so we didn't get to fully enjoy all the different warrior poses. (Talk about ruining the "meditation" circle.) It's kind of scary/intimidating/crazy when a bunch of new mothers get together in one room with their little ones. My friend, Blayne, even warned me of this. You should read her hilarious post here.
Judge-freakin-city. Everyone is examining everyone. Their babies. Cute, well-behaved, well dressed? How the mother is doing weight wise? (Oooo I've lost sooo much more pounds than her, and my baby is younger. Clearly, I'm the better mother.) They also (my personal favorite) like to judge you based on your baby's capabilities (like they have anything to do with it). (Ooooo my baby can roll over AND sit up. Ha! Yours is sooo incompetent. Clearly, I'm an all-star mom.)
Also, we all have to love the birth stories. "I had an all natural birth. No epidural, no C-section. I even had a midwife. Hospitals are just sooooo bad for the baby." Obviously your vagina, Mrs. Mom, is lined with gold. Excuse the rest of us for being so weak that we may have done things a teensy bit differently than you. Why is this a trump card? Get over yourself, cause we all are.
If that wasn't enough, there's also (what I've lovingly named) the boob buffet.
Come on, ladies. We know your kid needs to eat, and I wholeheartedly want you to feed your infant. However, I do not (under ANY circumstances) want to see your boobs flying every which way. Good grief, I just ate lunch. The last thing I want to see is your kid going to Chow Town on your chest. Yeah, yeah it's a beautiful picture of motherhood. Yeah, yeah it's good for them. But do we, the unsuspecting strangers who just so happen to be in the same space as you, need to SEE all the itty gritties involved?
No ma'am. We do not.
So thankful the twins' mother is as far from a mom-ster as possible. We get a kick out of watching fellow mommies make complete arsinators out of themselves though. If anything, Nicola had all the women beat simply because she had TWO. That's like one zillion times harder, dontcha know. She could have easily gloated, but she didn't. She's classy, unlike most of the mom population.
When Grahm and I have kids (long, long way away), remind me not to turn into a mom-ster. They're annoying and a little bit frightening.