Another year done and dusted. Another month older. New skills developed. Lo and behold another boomer older than my dead grandparents insinuating that I’m in some way failing my baby. For context this is the same person who at New Years last year said that Mazikeen wasn’t experiencing “real childbirth” by having a c-section. You can find this little rage inducing tidbit in Bye 2020 It’s Been an Experience.
I don’t share a lot of pictures of him on social media and I guess when I do it’s a bit of a photo dump for anyone who’s actually interested to scroll through. I know that even though he’s the light of my life not everyone in my life actually gives a shit about babies and that’s okay.
If people in my life don’t want to be around me because I have a baby now, well that’s a them problem. Part of being a parent means that there are many times at which he comes with me places. Thankfully I have a good network of friends who range from don’t mind his existence to love him as much as they possibly could. Those who don’t mind his existence have stated they’ll like him more when he can talk and move independently.
Now because I’m not posting photos every other day, even though he is really goddamn cute, most friends and family members don’t actually know how he’s progressing until they see him. And for some who haven’t seen him at all in his life until now at 4 months, they don’t have anything to really compare his current size too.
For reference at 4months he’s weighing in at just shy of 9kg and is 68cm long which is normal for the babies in my family but not for the babies in Matt’s. To be fair they’re Italians, everyone in that family is pretty short. He is quite literally half the size of Matt’s godmother, it’s hilarious. He’s also over doubled his birth weight. He’s able to support his weight on his legs though his balance while standing still needs some work. He’s rolling over and can hold his bottle when he’s feeding. He laughs and giggles and raises his eyebrow at things that he isn’t particularly keen on. He likes watching shows with me, particularly ones with bright colours. The other night he was inconsolable, had been changed, didn’t want a bottle or dummy and even cuddles weren’t doing anything. I had MASH playing on the computer screen and once he caught sight of it, he was enraptured. He was watching it for something like five or ten minutes before he just completely conked out in my arms.
None of these things sound like a baby who is being deprived or is failing to thrive.
And yet, for whatever reason this barely a family member decided it was within her rights to criticise our parenting choices.
Pretty much as soon I walk through the door I’m suddenly embraced and told, far too patronisingly, how clever I am for having Jake. There’s no denying I grew the little monster but all in all I didn’t really have much say in it.
The most I was able to contribute to the growing of my spawn was eating the right foods, getting enough rest and lowering my stress levels wherever possible. Basically, taking care of myself. If she wanted to call me clever for something it could’ve been for so many other things that I’ve actually done. For writing a book perhaps? Designing and painting a fandom themed mural on the baby room wall? No? Neither of those enough? Okay, that’s fine. No one has ever told me that I’m clever for breathing though, just saying.
As I pulled out a baby bottle and made-up Jake’s formula I was then questioned if I feed Jake. Those were actually the words, “Do you feed Jake?” I think we all know what the question really was but I’m a sarcastic little bitch so of course I responded as one just to goad her into asking what she really wanted to ask.
She couldn’t even say “breastfeed” though, no she rephrased the question as “do you bottle feed him or feed him yourself?” Um, both? Just considering the amount of time I spend with him means that I feed him 90% of his feeds each day. When I pulled out the formula and started making up the bottle, I was then reassured that it was okay that I was giving him formula which I followed up with a, “Well that’s good cos my supply was pretty shit.” She had nothing to say to that one.
Not even a minute later I was asked if I’d joined a mother’s group and when I said no, I was then informed of how it would be so much better for Jake if I did. I’m not bagging out groups for parents and their kids. I actually think they’re a really great resource, especially for those who either don’t have close friends or family either with kids for their own to play with or those who just want to connect with other parents.
Me? Good god I hate meeting new people. The last friend I made that wasn’t through Matt was brought to me by her dog who kept following me around at work. I also have enough friends with kids and a niece and nephew. He’ll go to play group and kindy and they can all be awkward little kids together. I don’t however see the point in causing myself more stress and potentially dealing with more Karen’s when I could spend time with my son doing things, we both enjoy, like sleeping or watching shows/movies with a lot of green, reading also comes to mind. He really enjoys being read to for some reason.
A few minutes later it was then…boomer-splained to me that Jake should go into a rocker and how they work. Did you know that if you put a baby in a rocker then they can still see you, but you can have your hands free? Apparently, I look like someone who doesn’t know that. I told her that Matt’s mum had one somewhere, but I was fine to hold Jake until she was done in the kitchen prepping all the food for lunch. Did that make her stop going on and on about it? Not even a little bit. Eventually Matt’s mum just abandoned the kitchen and went and got the rocker to shut her up.
Thankfully there was enough eating happening that not too many stupid things could be said. Unfortunately, everyone had to finish eating at some point. This meant that when Matt finished feeding Jake and was moving his phone around in front of his face, keeping in mind his phone was locked and Jake was staring at his reflection in the screen, Matt berated by aforementioned boomer for getting Jake addicted to phones so early and he doesn’t need to know what they are yet and kids are having to get glasses so much earlier these days because their parents are just sitting them in front of TVs and phones and it’s ruining their eyesight.
Yes, apparently, we’re ignoring all the doctors who have pointed out the whole “don’t sit so close to the TV or you’ll ruin your eyes” thing is actually just a myth and a child’s eyesight actually has more to do with genetics. It’s also easier for kids to focus on things that are closer which is why we often see them sitting or standing right in front of the TV. The only bright side of that was at least it’s not just me being told I’m failing my son.
At one point the whole other side of the table was calling Jake’s name and when he didn’t care to look away from me, they all took this as a sure sign that he didn’t recognise his own name, which judging by the tones all of theirs could do by 4 months. I assured them that once he was old enough to actually understand what words meant that he’d figure out sooner or later what his name was. Or rather names since the only ones who actually call him Jake regularly are our parents whereas we call him almost everything but.
Honestly that lunch could not have ended too soon.
I thought we were in the clear when everything was in the car and Jake was in his seat. Surely there couldn’t be any more criticisms.
I was wrong. Very wrong.
During lunch Matt had mentioned how we’d replaced our cars in preparation for the baby. As we all left and said our goodbyes, they had to walk past our car which began a discussion. Matt was a bit taken aback when she said that she hoped Matt was being paid well considering the house, cars and baby.
As though this was any of her damn business. When I stepped in to set her straight, she tried turning it on me by saying that since I wasn’t getting right now we’re living above our means.
Honestly at this point I reckon we just throw out the whole person.
After I once again set her straight, barely believing that this was a conversation I was having to have, she asked if the work Matt did to my car would get us in trouble because we were “defacing the car”. For a few extra thousand we could get my car with blacked out grill and those things on top of the roof also blacked out. It felt silly to spend so much extra on something that was simple aesthetics. Especially when Matt could do it all for the low low price of a few cans of black plasti-dip.
Just in case anyone else is unsure, aesthetic modifications to your car isn’t like defacing money or the American flag. So long as it doesn’t affect the functioning of the car or the lights etc. no one gives a shit.
He thought it would be funny to further confuse and upset her by mentioning how he’d had holes cut into his hood so air vents could be put in. She didn’t know what to do with that.
When we left, I could finally breathe again without worrying that somehow, I was going to be criticised for doing it wrong. I now find myself asking Jake if he feels like his dad and I are failing him somehow. Judging by his reaction of laughing and grabbing at my face I’m gonna say he’s not concerned.
Go figure.
S.J Smith Books 