The Babywearing Community

Hello everyone! The Milkmeister has started sucking her thumb, except she doesn’t know what she’s doing so she just jams half her hand in her mouth and looks confused. Weirdly, this isn’t on the list of developmental milestones.

Today’s post is about… Babywearing! This is where you put on your baby like a fancy jacket, but one that you can’t casually throw over your shoulder or stuff into the overhead locker or accidentally leave on a hotel room floor after an ill-advised night of passion.

STOCK PHOTO FATHER IS RIGHT TO LOOK CONFUSED, HE IS DOING A TERRIBLE JOB OF THIS AND STOCK PHOTO MOTHER IS ABOUT TO SHOUT AT HIM FOR NOT PAYING ATTENTION IN ANTENATAL CLASS. POOR OLD STOCK PHOTO FATHER.

SIDE NOTE: WHEN WE WERE TALKING ABOUT BIRTHING POSITIONS IN MY ANTENATAL CLASS THE FACILITATOR ASKED FOR IDEAS, AND ONE OF THE PENDING FATHERS CHEERFULLY SHOUTED, “DOGGY STYLE!” I HAVE NEVER SEEN A WIFE LOOK SO MORTIFIED IN MY LIFE.

HE WAS RIGHT THOUGH! Except THE FACILITATOR CALLED IT “ON ALL FOURS” BECAUSE IT WOULD HAVE BEEN improper TO IMPLY THAT ANY OF THE HEAVILY PREGNANT PEOPLE IN THAT ROOM HAD DONE SEX.

Anyway, I am proud to announce that I am now part of the Babywearing Community*. Following on from the Milkmeister’s resolute refusal to fall asleep on anything other than a person, I dug out the baby wrap that the kind lady who runs my business networking group gave me and strapped the Milkmeister to myself like a tiny bomb, primed to explode with partially digested milk at any second.

The Milkmeister LOVED the babywearing wrap and fell asleep immediately. Amazing. Ten points to the Milkmeister.

*Of course it’s a thing. There are passionate factions about every possible aspect of parenting, from combination feeding** to fast-flow teat enthusiasts,*** all with suitably rabid Facebook groups.

**it is where the baby has to open a small combination lock before they are allowed the bottle.

***insert your own joke here

“actually, millie could open a four-digit abus lock by eight weeks!” every mum group has one of these mums and if you don’t know which one it is, it’s you.

i suspect i may be that mum in my mum group but it’s not my fault my baby is so good.

While the Milkmeister loved the wrap, I loved the concept of the wrap because now I could do important things while the Milkmeister slept,* like hang out important washing** and write this important blog.

*the alternative is sitting on the couch trapped under your baby for the 20-30 minutes it takes her to go full Rip Van Winkle, at which point you can gently decant her into her bassinet and hope she doesn’t notice.

This sounds OK until you realise it happens 4-6 times a day, every day, and sooner or later you’ll find yourself scrolling through Netflix wondering if Young Sheldon could really be that bad, or if you should give that YouTube channel about ‘hobo culture’ a chance. After all, what would a hobo carry in his bindle?? Who knows?

me. me knows. also what in the sexy business hobo is this? that bindle is far too small. THIS MAN HAS NEVER JUMPED A TRAIN IN HIS LIFE AND IT SHOWS.

**parenting fact: when you have a baby, the washing becomes important for the first time in your lazy-ass life. When there is no baby, the worst that can happen if you get behind on the washing is you have to wear a slightly dodgy outfit or turn your undies inside out for a day or two.

When there is a baby, the possible consequences of skipping washing day far surpass a sartorially questionable outfit. Let me paint a picture: it is 2am and your baby has done a poo all up her back. Hurray! You need your spare baby sleeping bag (because this one is covered in poo) but alas, it is in the washing pile, covered in the debris of yesterday’s nappy change.

You can’t put the baby to sleep without the bag because that is Unsafe, so now you are hand-washing a poo-encrusted baby sleeping bag at 2am, while also wrangling a disgruntled baby who should be in the bag.

Fast forward! Now it is 2.30am and you and the baby are still awake (unlike your husband, who is peacefully asleep somewhere else in the house, the absolute bastard). You have many questions. Will the bag ever be ready to take out of the dryer? How bad of a parent would you be if you just Michelin Man’d the baby in three or four onesies for warmth, instead of waiting for the bag? Why did none of the ten million parenting articles you read say ‘buy a third bag’? Is 2.30am technically too early or too late to have a glass of wine? What has happened to your life? Etc.

Anyway, keep on top of the washing, is what I am saying.

THIS IS YOUR NEW BEST FRIEND, AND NOT IN A CREEPY 90S SEX JOKE WAY.

That was a lot of footnotes. We were talking about wraps, weren’t we. (Were we? I can’t keep track, I’ve been up since 2am washing baby bags and learning about bindles.)

The first wrap was great for the Milkmeister, but the kind networking lady who provided it is a smaller lady than I, and so I did my important things while being all pinched in around the middle parts.

Being a resourceful person, I went out and bought a better wrap.

Newer! Fancier! Nicer fabric! Perfect fit! Easier to put on! Easier to take off!

The Milkmeister fucking hates it.

I’ve put her in it three times and each time has turned her into an angry tomato of epic proportions, screaming her way around the house while firmly strapped to my front. Spoiler alert: you don’t particularly want a screaming baby anywhere but you really don’t want one strapped to your front.

We have gone back to the old wrap and I guess I will have pinched in middle parts forever.

***

Guess what! It is now two weeks after I drafted this post and I am back to being a proud member of the Community of People who Do Not Wear Babies.

ALSO KNOWN AS MOST OF US.

I tired of pinched in middle parts and the Milkmeister, who has recently realised the world is interesting and now wants to see as much of it as possible, tired of being in swaddleprison. She is too small to face outwards in the wrap (head might fall off) and was sick of staring at my neck when there were other fascinating things to stare at, like the curtains or a corner of the ceiling or the Baby In The Mirror.

(Sometimes she smiles at the Baby In The Mirror and it’s very cute, because when the BITM smiles back the Milkmeister becomes shy and hides her head in my neck.)

Thankfully we have the Portable Bouncer. It is a sort of mesh thing - actually hang on:

THE PORTABLE BOUNCER IN ALL ITS PORTABLE GLORY. ALSO I KNOW THAT ALL BABIES ARE BEAUTIFUL BUT I DON’T KNOW IF THIS BABY GOT MANY MORE MODELLING JOBS.

SIDE NOTE: HAVING A BABY OF YOUR OWN DOES NOT AUTOMATICALLY MAKE YOU THINK ALL BABIES ARE CUTE, OR MAKE YOU MORE INTERESTED IN OTHER PEOPLES’ BABIES. MY BABY IS GREAT, BUT YOURS? I CAN TAKE HIM OR LEAVE HIM.

So now I place the Milkmeister in the Portable Bouncer and Port her About, and she sits happily and stares at me while I hang out washing or wash bottles or any of the other myriad of scintillating activities I get up to these days.

And that will be how we get about for the foreseeable future, unless I become part of the Hobo Babywearing Community and stuff her in my bindle.