In the latest installment of “Mommy is Essentially a Talking Barn Animal,” the time has come to wean you. Weaning is the universe’s way of telling Mommy that the party is officially over. “Oh, you’re going back to work now? Fine. Time to hand over that free boob job you’ve been enjoying. Oh, and don’t forget to pick up your period on your way out.” If busting out her 32B bra collection (circa La Senza 2007) wasn’t punishment enough, Mommy also has to deal with Daddy’s gloating about the fact that she can no longer use breastfeeding as leverage. At least she’s got period cramps to fall back on. Mommy hereby promises to never be judgy about mothers who breastfeed their school-aged children again. Keep the party goin’ and the liquid a-flowin’ sisters!
DRINK: The Mad Cow. 3 oz Milk. 1/2 oz Coffee liqueur. 1/2 oz Hazelnut liqueur. 1/2 oz Vodka. 1/2 oz Irish Cream. Combine all ingredients into a shaker with ice. Serve in a glass lined with chocolate syrup and top mixture with whipped cream. Now scrape off all that whipped cream because you’re no longer burning 500 calories a day. Grrrrrr.
Mommy used to kill it when it came to cardio – she could spin for an hour and still look adorable enough to flirt with Braedon the 26 year old trainer slash man candy. The gym was a social place and Mommy was on the A list – that “A” stood for Ass and hers was tight. Now Mommy does Baby-friendly yoga. This is not a workout, but an excuse to drop $20 to do one Downward Dog and spend the other 43 minutes in a Circle Bitch about sleep training. Mommy is still hyper-competitive, only now it’s over whose baby is doing what first. Mommy has actually pushed you to do things you’re not ready for, like propping you up to sitting then feigning surprise when you promptly toppled over and bashed your head on a yoga block. The 4 calories burned trying to keep the snot-covered communal toys out of your mouth during class is quickly erased by the post-namaste trip to the Fair Trade coffee shop where a carob-chip spelt cookie packs a whopping 17 grams of fat. Mommy may now live in her Lulus, but she has a feeling the rear view isn’t the same.
DRINK: The Skinny Bitch. Remember when you used to be one? 5oz Diet Coke, 1 oz vodka and a squeeze of fresh lime. Only 56 calories.
On the occasion of Mommy’s birthday, Daddy tries to melt away three months of emotional, mental and physical exhaustion with the (previously) fail-safe gift of a day at the spa. Unfortunately, Mommy’s first postnatal spa visit doesn’t quite pan out as planned. First, Mommy’s massage therapist has the misguided notion that Mommy wants to spend her first child-free hour in months answering a continuous stream of questions about labor, when all she wants to do is fantasize about Matt Damon. Mommy’s rejuvenation facial is scored by pan flutes, wind chimes and a lecture about the toll that lack of sleep is taking on the skin around her eyes, delivered by an aesthetician who looks 12. Mommy hasn’t even cracked US Weekly in the post-service tranquility room when Daddy calls with the news that you’ve been wailing incessantly for the past 45 minutes, refusing to take the bottle. Mommy heads immediately to the checkout desk where she’s pressured in her vulnerable postpartum state into dropping $75 on an anti-gravity firming lift cream from France that she’ll find unopened and expired in her bathroom drawer in 2020. As she races uptown at lightning speed, Mommy’s nipples leak all over the steering wheel. Serenity now!
DRINK: Zen Cocktail. 1 oz green tea liqueur, 1/2 oz melon liqueur, 3 oz mango juice, 2 oz cream. Mint leaves and nutmeg for garnish. Shake with ice, strain into a champagne flute and hold your breath for 18 years.
Angelina Jolie. Natalie Portman. Beyoncé. It seems like all of Hollywood can pop out a baby and look effortlessly malnourished the next day. Mariah Carey shit out twins and eight minutes later was the nude spokesmodel for Weight Watchers. Mommy wishes she wasn’t still living in her Heidi Klum maternity jeggings but unfortunately she doesn’t have a personal trainer or a weight-loss inducing habit like heroin. According to Mommy’s #1 news source, People.com, movie star matriarchs insist “The secret to losing the pregnancy weight was carrying around my baby all day!” Mommy knows this is celebrity-speak for bulimia, because no A-lister carries her own child. Though Mommy admits she loves how her new Double Ds look like they were done by Dr. 90210, she sometimes longs to look glamorously on the brink of death like Too Posh To Push Spice.
DRINK: Red Carpet Fizz. 3 oz pink Moet, 1/2 oz Grand Marnier,
1/2 oz lime juice,
2 oz orange juice. Enjoy every caloric sip, unlike actual celebrities, who subsist only on air and the perpetual need for validation.