Marissa Maciel’s previous work for The Toast can be found here.
Exhausted parents lying on the floor, surrounded by government-provided boxes of diapers and wipes.
Tired women with their feet elevated staring into space, while human resource managers do not have any reason to call them to talk about maternity leave issues or concerns.
Tired men holding up two brands of diapers, debating between chlorine-free versus extra-absorbency, making that decision themselves, feeling confident about it.
Parents sleeping on mounds of dirty laundry piled on top of their bed. It’s nobody’s job, and it’s everybody’s job; it will get done when it needs to get done.
A sweaty dad standing next to a boiling pot of water, sterilizing bottles, listening to some Raffi.
Bleary-eyed parents taking turns waiting for the next feeding cycle
Women making plaster casts of their bellies 6 months postpartum.
A breastfeeding support group that is also a formula-feeding support group, because all it needs to be about is a community of parents who will support each other.
Playgroups where men and women do not make judgements about which way someone’s baby came into existence.
Grandparents bringing mounds of good food, never asking, “Do you think you’ll do this again?” nor say, “It’s a lot harder than it looks, huh?” Just complimenting the parents’ instincts, cleaning up a bit, giving the newbies a nap.
Moms nursing babies in restaurants and being offered a glass of water from the waiter, without even having to ask.
Changing tables in women’s and men’s bathrooms which are regularly serviced and stocked with biodegradable wipes.
A roving group of men and women who spontaneously and vociferously support parents as they navigate challenging situations with their babies – like flying on airplanes, waiting in enormous lines, enduring colic in public, etc.
House visits from pediatric nurses for babies under six months old.
House visits from nursing bra fitters for moms who need them.
Vendors put a paper bag over any tabloids with covers touting celebrity moms who lost “the baby weight,” or “baby belly,” or “baby bulge,” and any variation therein.
Checking off six months on the calendar for maternity leave, and another six months after for paternity leave, except for gay couples, who are given nineteen months just because.
Employers who send new moms and dads cards saying “Congratulations!” and “Please call us to talk about the opportunity to work from home when you come back from your leave!”
Tags: families, feminism, marissa maciel, parenting, relationships
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I have briefly glimpsed heaven, and it was beautiful.
Perfect first comment.
[sobs] [stifles urge to clutch at husband’s coat and beg him not to leave] [returns to frantically plowing through work inbox in hope of making a few bucks before Rage Baby: The Baby of Rage wakes from nap]
At least with a name like Rage Baby: The Baby of Rage, he won’t be one of three or four Michaels or Jennifers or whatever. You nailed that one!
(Seriously, though. Hang in there.)
We call him RB for short.
He’s a pretty chill dude, just going through a rough patch. I can’t really complain.
“Changing tables in women’s and men’s bathrooms which are regularly serviced and stocked with biodegradable wipes.” Wegmans has this. The wipes are in little purpose-built cubbyholes. It is a ridiculously good idea.
This is my fantasy job: To be part of “a roving group of men and women who spontaneously and vociferously support parents as they navigate challenging situations with their babies – like flying on airplanes, waiting in enormous lines, enduring colic in public, etc.”
I’d hold their fussy baby and with my baby-whispering skill-set, get that baby calmed down so the new parent can take a break. If someone had done this for me I’d have given them anything they wanted.
If only I could get paid real money to do this, I’d quit my job today.
I used to do this at a former job, offer to walk a fussy kiddo around the restaurant and show them how to bartend so their parents could get a hot meal. No one ever refused.
Once I asked a mom traveling alone with the cutest baby ever if she needed help, and she handed me the baby! (While she put her carry-on in the overhead bin.) It was the greatest.
Also, I kind of had this roving band the first time I travelled with my daughter, who was 3 months old at the time. Our plane was about 1/3 grandparent-aged Catholics going on a church pilgrimage to Serbia or somewhere. They loved babies. You could not have asked for a warmer, more forgiving crowd.
It combines two of my favorite things: cuddling babies but being able to give them back to their parents afterwards, and earning a living.
NINETEEN MONTHS please! It would help our homoparenting asses so much.
When my husband and five-week-old son and I returned home from my mother’s funeral (yes, it was the best of times and the worst of times, but mostly the worst of times), we got off the plane in our home town, and a middle-aged woman caught up with me in the airport to tell my how much she admired the good care I took of my baby on that flight and how hard I worked to breastfeed him and what a good job I was doing. It has been 10 years, and I’m crying all over again thinking about it.
I’m crying reading this. Thank you for sharing.
“Checking off six months on the calendar for maternity leave, and another six months after for paternity leave, except for gay couples, who are given nineteen months just because.”
With #2 on the horizon this sounds like nirvana. My workplace is at least very accomodating as much as they can and emotionally supportive so I can’t complain too much. But man. Paternity leave! That would be great.
Both parents claim to have “baby brain” upon return to work. No one finds it strange and it’s attributed to obvious lack of sleep.
The world you have described is too marvelous for us to even contemplate for too long — it’s too unfair. I have tears in my eyes. (And I’m not a parent, nor do I have plans to be one.)
On the first flight I took with my daughter, the flight attendant looked at me and smiled. “Are you nursing?” “Yes…?” “Here, let me get you a big bottle of water. Oh, and the lavatory in the back has a changing table. If you need to use the restroom, let me know. I’ll be happy to hold your baby.” A few minutes later, as I was buckling my seatbelt, “Hon, come back here. There’s an empty row so you and your baby can stretch out. Do you need more water?” I couldn’t have asked for anything better than that.
A roving group of men and women who spontaneously and vociferously support parents as they navigate challenging situations with their babies – like flying on airplanes, waiting in enormous lines, enduring colic in public, etc.
I sort of did that once!
One night I was shopping at Target, just browsing through the magazines, when a 4 or 5-year-old kid in the nearby toy section started pitching a monster tantrum over a toy he wanted. It was epic – tears, yelling, stomping . . . you name it.
His poor parents were vainly trying to calm him down and told him that, no, he couldn’t have his toy. Their anxiety was palpable as they started walking towards where I was standing while the kid was screaming that he wouldn’t move.
Meanwhile, I was just trying to feign like nothing was going on, letting the parents do their thing. As they were emploring him to put the toy back and follow them, I looked up and accidentally made eye contact with the dad. I hesitated for a second then said:
“Stay strong, man.”
There was silence for about two seconds before we both started cracking up, completely dissolving the tension of the situation.
We started chatting laughing about how ridiculous and transparently manipulative little kids can get when they’re tantruming. It only took about a minute before the little kid realized that he was defeated and that there would be no toy today.
The kid probably hated me for foiling his plans, but I was glad to help make the parents’ life a bit easier – a little emotional support can go a long way!
I really need to step up my game from “Understanding* smile and nod” to something more in line with this.
A roving group of men and women who spontaneously and vociferously support parents as they navigate challenging situations with their babies – like flying on airplanes, waiting in enormous lines, enduring colic in public, etc.
I sort of did that once!
One night I was shopping at Target, just browsing through the magazines, when a 4 or 5-year-old kid in the nearby toy section started pitching a monster tantrum over a toy he wanted. It was epic – tears, yelling, stomping . . . you name it.
His poor parents were vainly trying to calm him down and told him that, no, he couldn't have his toy. Their anxiety was palpable as they started walking towards where I was standing while the kid was screaming that he wouldn't move.
Meanwhile, I was just trying to feign like nothing was going on, letting the parents do their thing. As they were emploring him to put the toy back and follow them, I looked up and accidentally made eye contact with the dad. I hesitated for a second then said:
"Stay strong, man."
There was silence for about two seconds before we both started cracking up, completely dissolving the tension of the situation.
We started chatting laughing about how ridiculous and transparently manipulative little kids can get when they're tantruming. It only took about a minute before the little kid realized that he was defeated and that there would be no toy today.
The kid probably hated me for foiling his plans, but I was glad to help make the parents' life a bit easier – a little emotional support can go a long way!
This is the sexiest thing I’ve ever read.
This is the sexiest thing I've ever read.
I’m not gonna lie, this made me cry a little bit.
Tired women with their feet elevated staring into space, while human resource managers do not have any reason to call them to talk about maternity leave issues or concerns.
YES.
“I want to nurse, but I’m having difficulties,” you say on the phone to your doctor. A helpful professional comes to your home and gets your baby boobin’. You wean when you want to wean.