Keeping Up With the Smith-Jones’

I am perpetually uncool.  In high school I was (1) too skinny, (2) too needy, (3) too zitty, (4) too poor to ever be popular.  To top it off I drove a bright orange ’83 Ford Escort with faulty brakes, it was like geekiness on wheels.   I would like to think that I have overcome my uncool ways now that I am a high-powered, L.A. livin, Australian rugby player marryin woman of the ’00s!   I.was.wrong.  I am still totally uncool.

Case in point — I am currently coveting something that I really don’t need for the simple reason that it is what all the other moms in Santa Monica own.  It is like Gap jeans (which I could never afford) and Subarus (which everyone in Alaska drives) all over again!  I may as well be 15 with a giant zit in the middle of my forehead.

Let me explain, in Santa Monica there are a very large group of women, I call them the Smith-Jones’ (because what kind of self-respecting woman would just take their husband’s name – no offense to the hyphenators out there, I would have done it too but Hersey-Fredericks is a bit of a mouthful), who buy organic, have adorable children with floppy hair cuts, wear $250 jeans to the farmers market to sit in the grass, give regularly to Amnesty International and own one of these:


Behold … the Ergo Baby Carrier … correction … the $120 Organic Ergo Baby Carrier!

A word (or 50) about baby carriers.  I have 3.  You read that correctly, I have three baby carriers … and one baby.  The first carrier I bought is the super cool and trendy Baby Pouch.  Baby wraps are all the rage, it is something to do with attachment parenting, being hands-free and being able to breast feed while out shopping the local farmers market.  I can totally hold my head up high among the Attachment Parenting Smith-Jones moms when I am in the Baby Pouch.  Just look at the thing:


* Note the wind swept look, hair blowing in the breeze, baby hat matched perfectly with Baby Pouch.

Problem is … Aiman doesn’t like it.  It doesn’t give him much head support.  It’s hot as Hades because it wraps around him about 50 times and the fabric is too stretchy so I’m constantly adjusting.

Since the Baby Pouch was a no-go, I went out and bought the Hotsling.  Not as trendy as the Baby Pouch, but still respectable.  Trouble with the Hotsling, Aiman HATES it.  I am talking serious baby melt-down HATES it.  When he sees me put it on he skips over the little whimper he usually does when he is displeased with something and goes straight to crying so hard that no noise is being emitted.  To be fair, I think I bought the thing one size too small so Aiman gets squashed when I put him in it.  It always looks like he is about to vomit up his lower intestine.  It is not attractive.

With the Baby Pouch and Hotsling DOA, I decided to go to my fallback carrier which I got as a shower gift.  The Baby Bjorn. In the rest of the world there is absolutely nothing wrong with the Baby Bjorn … In the land of the Smith-Jones’ … So.Not.Cool.  So what does Aiman think of the Bjorn?  He loves it.  He could hang out in that thing forever.  It’s not too hot, gives his head some support, and I actually think it is pretty comfortable.  All-in-all, we love the Bjorn.  Now here is the million dollar question, why am I thinking about getting a fourth (FOURTH) carrier?  I’ll tell you why, because I have been traumatized by my years of uncoolness and feel I must have the Organic Ergo Baby Carrier for the simple reason that no one in Santa Monica has the Bjorn, everyone has the Ergo.  And now I must have one too!  It’s organic for the love of mike!  I cloth diaper and drive a Prius … I NEED IT.

Friends, I have spent approximately $140 on baby carriers that I do not use.  And now I am on the verge of buying baby carrier number four.   For my one single baby.  At a total cost of $260.   On totally unnecessary baby carriers.  Someone please help me.

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One Response to Keeping Up With the Smith-Jones’

  1. Blue_in_AK says:

    Ah, Kristina, I wish I was there to hold your hand and talk sense to you. Go with what the baby loves — to hell with the Smith-Jones hoity-toities. You’re so much cooler than any of them.

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