A Loathe Letter To…

Baby things I am so happy to be rid of

In the same vein as my last “Love Letter”, I have equal passionate doses of disdain for all the baby things I gave my best try, but just did not hit the mark.

To all these things, I’m sorry. It’s just not working out, and really, it never did.

And it’s definitely you, not me.

Carrier. I want to throw a shoutout to all carriers, because I’m pretty sure I tried every single one of you, no matter the type, cost, or number of stupid buckles and straps you clanked against my body. Even the simpler “wrap” kind of carrier couldn’t seem to form a happy marriage with my 10-inch torso. I’m lucky my hubs found a carrier that worked for him beautifully, and we sure did put that to use, but quite frankly, my patience and entire back is grateful to be done with all of you.

Walker/Bouncer. Well, well, if it isn’t the one in the same kind of baby products that let me down from the beginning. You made promises that you never followed through with, and after all the benjamins I spent on you two, you’d think my kid would be interested in at least a soft double bounce, or even a backwards heel dance. But no, she has only ever just sat in the both of you, playing with these toys you insisted on attaching to your tray pieces. There is a better chance at this point of her lifting up out of her high chair and levitating.

Swaddles. Dear bane of my existence, though we haven’t used you in several months, I have never been more excited than this end-of-the-year cleanout to get rid of you. Whether you had Velcro or not, there’s a reason I had 1 a.m. fights with you and ultimately threw you at my husband to deal with for the rest of your tenure in our household.

Mittens. Much like socks, pens, and chapstick, you lovely mittens would also get in line to be something to disappear into a black hole of the universe, never to be seen again. For clarification, I don’t hate your cousin—those mitts that keep my girl’s hands warm in the winter. No, those are useful, and a cute staple to any chilly weather outfit. You, on the other hand, had a sole purpose. (Yes, “hand” and “sole” are both used here UNIRONICALLY) You had ONE purpose, and that was to keep my kid from clawing her eyes out at night or just anything homicidal she could do with her baby phalanges. Your wrist elastic and soft cotton was supposed to be reliable. But, much like your 17th cousin, THE SWADDLE, you were nothing more than a Houdini challenge for my child to escape. Every. Single. Naptime.

And don’t even get me started on the number of you little things still stuck in my dryer’s lint trap.

GOODBYE TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT.