The Bubble...

Picture it....

Easter Dinner. 12 adults, one infant all seated at a table full of wonderful food. The turkey cooked lovingly by auntie, gravy steaming. The lasagna catered in by a local Italian restaurant. At this point you may be asking turkey and lasagna?! Where the hell are the mashed potatoes? Yes...its a wonder to us all. I dont ask questions anymore and resistance is futile. Caesar salad, dinner rolls and wine. A very Canadian Easter dinner.

BIL- with humor and half-seriousness, "How did I get stuck in this spot? (next to baby). Me-"His dad should be sitting there (with an eye roll directed at DH). DH-"Should I move?" BIL-"Its ok, we can bond.

Great Grand maman #1-"Baby gets to eat with us too. Hopefully he gets small bites, we dont want him to choke. Is it ok for him to have lasagna?" (Thanks for the passive aggressiveness Mamere).

Great Grand maman #2 (in a very thick French accent) "He's so cute. Look at him" (him said with emphasis as if he's the only person in the room)

Baby has been seated at the table for over 5 minutes already, nibbling on a buttered dinner roll. He's happy and quiet. Then the the other food starts making its way to the table and the buttered dinner roll is discarded like an old pair of socks.

Baby smells the lasagna and starts screaming...screaaaaaaaaaming like he's being tortured. Because waiting even 2 minutes to get served is torture. Because he doesnt understand that steam rolling off the food means its too hot for his little mouth. Because he can see the food and smell it and oh he's never even had lasagna or turkey and gravy but damnit, he will not be satisfied with a dinner roll, no matter how heavily it is buttered.

Great Grand Maman #1-"Oh he's hungry! Feed him!!" (like we're storming the beaches of Normandy, her command resonates across the table)

MIL-"He is with us at the table!! How exciting" (this has been repeated ad nauseam for months now since he's started to eat food so my only response is no shit and an eye roll)

Finally the lasagna gets to his end of the table and baby's mother stupidly thinks she can share a piece with the baby. But once baby gets his first bite, its clear he's turning into a ravenous lasagna banshee. Oh and its still hot but mother thinks she can eat some of her food a bit, blow on baby's food and baby will stop the endless banshee screaming between bites. Not so, screams the most impatient baby ever.

Me-"DH, get me my own piece of lasagna please. DH-he needs at least 5 instructions to complete one task "Where, what how..." Me- frustrated with the screaming baby, annoyed at the grandma's and starting to get angry at how I cant eat even one bite of my own salad, lest the banshee let out another yowl for food that is just too hot still "Just put a piece of another plate, damnit, the baby is going to eat this entire piece on his own"

Baby gets a bite that is too hot and lets out a squawk rivaling an angry crow, starts crying profusely. He's pissed.

Me-"Damnit. Its still too hot for you, its too hot. I'm sorry honey." Baby-Screaming and now crying, but mostly screaming because he wants to eat again but has no concept of too hot. DH-"Geez, its still steaming. Me-really annoyed and nerves are on their last thread "I didnt take from my new piece dear." Grand maman #1-"Oh no, you burnt his mouth. Give him the dinner roll." DH-"His piece is still steaming too." MIL-"He just wont stop screaming until he gets fed...ahahaaaa, thats so cute." Me-Loud sigh, eye roll , biting tongue and teeth grinding. In head---Piss off all of you. You try to feed him and keep him happy, putting your own meal on hold. I cant help it that he's screaming, you try reasoning with an 11 month old. And if you all dont shut the hell up, I'm going to shove this baby spoon, complete with a steaming piece of too hot lasagna, up your asses. Where the fuck is the wine?

MIL-"Here is the cake. Maxim gets a piece of cake." Me-bewildered because she knows how we feel about sweets (no sweets before first birthday) and forcefully from the frayed nerves "No Maxim will not be getting cake." DH-nervous laugh to break the tension. BIL- genuinely, "Why not?" Me-Explain without getting defensive our reasons for not allowing sweets right now and limiting sweets in the future.

One glass of wine isnt enough...where is the bottle?

And so, that was our Easter dinner.

I just described a version of what I call the Bubble. Its a place all moms probably find themselves at one point or another or perhaps the entire time they are trying to raise their kids. Its a place where first time moms especially toil under scrutiny. Where everybody stares and makes comments like mom and baby are zoo attractions. Where people try to be "helpful" with their advice and comments and passive-aggressive suggestions. All the while putting pressure on mom to perform, be perfect or at least look competent in the eyes of those that feel they would do differently and therefore better.

I havent been a mother for even a year and I cannot stand or tolerate this aspect of motherhood. Other moms will say "just get used to it." Well why the hell should we? When there is already so much pressure from within ourselves to raise our kids by our standards, why must we live under the bubble of raising our kids by another's standards? Especially by those that already raised their children (an older generation from a different time) or those without children. Dont get me wrong, when asked, a little advice can go a long way. From the right people or with the right suggestion, it can be priceless. Most things can be listened to and discarded. But the Bubble is different...its the under the microscope scrutiny picking apart on display zoo animal feeling. Its highly stressful for everybody, especially mom and baby.

Ugh....20+ more years of the bubble...or maybe the bubble goes away when you have more than one kid? Pushing out another baby means you've reached the level of competent parent? Hell if I know, I have a few more years before baby #2 comes along to test this theory. In the mean time...

Pass the wine.