My baby's better than YOUR baby....

"Where 2 or more babies are gathered, there, comparisons will be in the midst of them."

Its not a Bible quote, but maybe it should be.

I have 3 kids- I'm a pro, if you will- and even I have found myself doing the comparison dance from time to time.  Its interesting to note, by the way, that boxing has also been compared to a dance.

Coincidence?  I think not.

You can find this dance occurring anywhere moms are found- parks, grocery stores, even the library:

The dance begins:

"Your baby is SO cute- how old is he?"

"5 months."

"Mine too!"

"Aw, she's gorgeous."

"Thanks.  What a cutie- he's so big!  Is he crawling yet?"

"No- yours?"

"Just yesterday.  Its like she's been saving her energy, though, because she crawled across the entire kitchen floor first time out!"

"That's incredible!  You're going to have your hands full with her."

"I know!"

"I'm a little thankful that mine is still a sweet lump- we haven't had to really baby proof.  Now if only he'd stay a sweet SILENT lump- he just said 'Mama' yesterday.  He'll be talking up a storm in no time."

"They grow up so fast, don't they?  Mine was reaching out toward the 'Modern Science' magazine in the bookstore earlier.  My husband and I are already deciding which Ivy League to send her to.  I guess we'll just wait a month til she can tell us her choice."

"That's really impressive.  You must be proud.  I don't think there's an Ivy League in our little guy's future, though,"

...Wait for it...

"all he wants to do is read cookbooks, so we're looking into early enrollment for the Culinary Institute of America instead of kindergarten.  A parent should always encourage their child's strengths and he makes the BEST bolognese- just think what training could do!"

Every time a mom asks another mom her baby's age, the first step in the dance is taken.  Even if each others babies are no where near in age, its a crucial step in determining how their own baby is doing; however, no mom wants anyone to look at their baby as the weakest link, so they throw out their own baby's recent milestone... and if necessary, they embellish:

"Little Johnny just took his first steps!  How 'bout yours?"

"Oh, mine is content to keep his seat on Terra Firma... chewing on books... well, reading books... A book, actually- he's reading 'Hamlet'."

Its not our fault.  Like the bell that starts the boxing match or that first note of a tango, asking a baby's age will always be perceived as:

"Betcha my baby is better than yours."

"Nuh uh."

"Uh huh."

Soooo.... how old is YOUR baby?

Just smile and nod...

When I was younger, I used to wonder what people meant by “fish stories”. It made no sense to me. I was little, so I honestly thought “fish stories” were all tales about fish.

When I got older, I became wise to what it meant and even concocted my own when I went fishing a few times- “I SWEAR- it was HUGE! I tried to get a picture but it practically broke my rod before flopping back into the water.” Sure, my fish had practically qualified as a minnow, but THEY didn't know that, and, in all honesty, my friends at the time probably wouldn't have cared anyways. They weren't those kinds of people. You know the kind- fish people.

Little did I know, “fish tales” aren't just for the fishermen. I encountered my first twist on them when I became a mom:

“How big was YOUR baby?”

And it began. The question and answer took a different route every time, always depending on the person and situation. Sometimes the answer was “He was THIS BIG!”, arms outstretched and head nodding in the direction of the biggest house around. Those are the times when you're comparing war stories and each mom is trying to one up the other. Its a badge of honor to have delivered the biggest baby, and you get points for if you were able to do it naturally.

Suddenly, by the way, the word “natural” had several different meanings. “Natural” to the die hard baby-wearing-organic crowd meant sweating and screaming it out without drugs of any kind- epidural included. When discussing my "natural" birth with them, there was an emphasis on how the epidural didn't take, and breathing techniques- always breathing techniques.  Most of the time I was able to still get a respectful nod if I told them that I held off on the epidural until nearly the end, and I was applauded if I mentioned the fact that the anesthesiologist messed up twice before getting the epidural right. 

Then, there were those of us that found a loophole to still get those points for going 'au naturel'- yes, I gave birth naturally- he had to come out sometime, so NATURALLY, I gave birth to him. Points for me- and since my first was 500 lbs, I came out the winner by a long shot.

Of course, there were always those people who looked at my 9 lb 1 oz son and asked how big he was, and it was then that I saw fit to use percentages- “He's in the 90^th percentile.” I knew they were on a mission to bring up overweight babies and I knew they could be distracted easily. “90^th percentile- wow, so what does that mean?” “He's bigger than 90% of babies his age.” The conversation usually dropped there since they had no idea what the average size was for babies his age.

Birth stories have always been fun. There's not a veteran on Earth that can outdo a mom: “Oh, really- you lost an arm? I GAVE BIRTH to an ANTELOPE sized infant. You got a purple heart- I got stretch marks AND stitches.” There's just no winning with moms. If Mom A went 24 hours, then Mom B added in the two weeks of pre-labor and suddenly she's shouting out “Oh, that's a lot- I know that when I went 125 hours, I was DYING.”

That's another thing, mom stories are always polite. Its rare that you'll hear a mom say, “Well, that's nothin'” to another mom. Maybe its out of respect, but I personally think it has to do with fear. Regardless of how long a mom went, you KNOW that she has seen pain and come out the other side, and for that, you should fear her. Any woman who has heard the stories and yet STILL put herself in a position to go through that pain is not only slightly masochistic but also a the tiniest bit crazy. You don't mess with crazy- you respect it and back away slowly.

Once we've compared baby sizes and birth stories, that's when things get interesting, because THEN we've hit “Baby Stories”, and THAT, my friends, is a tale for another day.