Gallivanting around town, with my child expertly wrapped around my torso. Do they make that baby wrap in cashmere? Great, I'd like it in tan, please. Big sunglasses and Venti Starbucks in hand to signify that yes, this motherhood thing is doing a number on my beauty sleep! Stylish diaper bag draped over my shoulder. Escalade keys in hand. Heels.
Wait. I don't own heels, or a car. Who is this woman in my head?
I think it's Jessica Alba, maybe? Doesn't matter. Insert name of beautiful celebrity here- sashaying around town, wearing her baby. Shopping. Laughing. Using both hands. If she could do it - so could I! People magazine duped me into believing that the "baby wearing" thing was easy.
People magazine was wrong.
The baby wrap. How else would I go about my life, seamlessly fitting my new infant into it? Look world, even though I'm now wearing an infant everywhere I go, nothing about my life has changed! Have you ever seen a specimen so suited for motherhood? That was what the baby wrap always said to me. I would definitely be using one.
After weeks and weeks of reading reviews and doing research, I decided on- and registered for- the Moby. It was one of the first baby gifts to arrive- and man, oh man, was I excited! Until I realized that you basically needed an engineering degree to extricate this thing from its packaging. It sort of resembled a - hmm, how to best describe this? Imagine the Keebler Elves having a pajama party, getting really stoned, and having a contest about who could roll and bind the tightest sleeping bag. That is what the Moby wrap looked like- an elfin sleeping bag. And those little stoned elves are really good at rolling things up.
I was 8 months pregnant. Trying to wrestle that thing out of its packaging, without destroying the packaging, was almost impossible. But I was smart enough at that point to realize the wrap might not be for me, and I should keep it in a returnable state. After 10 minutes of this, I was sweating and crying. Finally - I made some headway, and began to roll the wrap out of its casing. I started at my bedroom. At the time, we lived in the traditional, shoebox shaped, floor-through apartment. This thing rolled from my bedroom, which was in the back of the house, all the way through the kitchen, and to the living room - which was in the front of the house. I would say that was about 20 feet, at least. What the hell is going on? Why is this thing 20 feet long? How am I supposed to fashion this thing into the neatly bound picture they show on the label? Is this some kind of sick joke?
Of course I turned to Google in my time of need. Google fixes all of my problems- it would fix this one too. It diverted me to a youtube video of a man, calmly wrapping 20 feet of modal cotton over his shoulders, around his waist, and securely fancying it around his infant child. He wasn't sweating. He didn't seem to be terrified. You tube was mocking me. This dude, with no maternal instinct whatsoever, could do it. Damn it, so could I!
The frenzied wrapping began. This way? Too loose! That way? Too long! Maybe this way? I look like a fat hippy! I CAN'T DO THIS! AND THERE'S NOT EVEN A BABY IN IT YET! SHIIIITTTT!
My baby wasn't even born, and I was failing already. I'll spare you the details of what it was like getting that baby accessory from hell back into it's rolled state. It wasn't pretty.
Needless to say, I returned it. I decided on an one of those carriers that looks like an ugly backpack. It wasn't stylish. I didn't look cute on me - at all. It was functional, and comfortable - and Lucien felt really secure in it.
Moral of the story - thanks for the inferiority complex, baby wrap.
Oh, and also, never look to People magazine for functional advice about anything.