Bewildered Housemother!

Bewildered Housewife is finally back in the Blogdom, having emerged from an extra-long pregnancy wielding one gorgeous baby, two fabulous breasts, and a set of in-laws who, as grandparents to our perfect child, have only gotten stranger.  We aren’t talking about deadly cupcakes or evil racks of lamb strange, either.  No, we are talking just plain creepy.

Bewildered Housewife believes that if I labored, induced and unmedicated, for 20 hours to give birth to another human life, that baby should be called mine.  Apparently, my mother-in-law never got that memo.  If it were up to her, she would have slapped me in a t-shirt that read “I’m Just the Vehicle” for my entire pregnancy (as long as the t-shirt had a Mercedes emblem on the back) and ran off with the child the second its cord was cut.

Since the baby’s birth, my mother-in-law has ran even more off-kilter from an already askew reality.  To be fair, she started out on her best behavior.  But as her normalcy won her more frequent visits with Baby, her classic sense of narcissistic entitlement began to show.  I’ve mapped out some of the territory to better illustrate this:

(Keep in mind that these are more or less quotes, people)

Point A: I’ve just bought her a few darling little outfits —–> I just spent $1600 on a whole baby wardrobe with the word JUICY emblazoned on the ass ——> I can’t believe you went shopping for your baby – don’t do that!  —–> Point B: I’LL buy all the baby’s clothes!!

Point A:  I’ll follow whatever rules you lay down about your baby ——> Oops, sorry I filed the baby’s toenails, it won’t happen again ——> The baby’s face is all scratched up and her fingernails are jagged?  Oh I would NEVER EVER cut them!  Really, they look different from when you left the baby this morning?  Hmm… well, I might have ‘filed’ them a little…  —–> You said toenails, not fingernails! —-> Point B:  I’m devastated you called to tell me not to groom the baby!

Point A:  I’m sure you know exactly when the baby is hungry ——> You don’t feed the baby from both breasts?!!? GASP —–> Are you sure you’re making enough milk?? Maybe you should give baby formula —-> What do you mean only give the baby 3 oz. in a bottle – she ate all 7 of them at once!  —–>  The baby is STARVING! —->  Are babies supposed to be this fat? —-> Point B:  You’re overfeeding the baby!!  Don’t feed the baby any more!!!

And other random, incendiary comments such as my favorite, anytime I’ve dressed the baby in something pink:

You’re so CUTE when your mommy dresses you like a giiiiiiirl!

As opposed to what – dressing the baby like a priest?  A left-handed circus midget?  Or – crime of crimes! – androgenously in cotton?

According to the general mommy public, though, these is more or less the standard moronic landscape whenever a woman pops out somebody’s grandbaby.  What is not standard, however, is the way that this particular actually shield’s the baby’s face and walks in the opposite direction when either I or my husband attempt to retrieve our child.  I then get to look like the psycho when I bare my teeth and growl, “Give Me My Baby,” which is actually fine with me at this point. 

Because I am slightly psycho these days.  I haven’t slept in months, am often covered in poop or milk, and my hair has hit that lovely postpartum stage in which it begins to fall from my head like teams of suicidal jumpers off Wall Street.  I don’t have time for the creepiness.  Hell, I just now found the time to blog.

Hello again Blog World!