Gearing up

If you're a new parent, or about to be a one, you know how much stuff is absolutely essential for raising a child today. If you were a new parent a while ago, you might be surprised at how much there is. Today I thought would discuss two of the new products without which a baby's life would be merely a constant sorrow.

1. Behold The Randomizer:

The microwave infuses formula with millions of little air bubbles that make baby's tummy blow up like the Hindenberg. So once upon a time, parents had to painstakingly warm bottles of formula in pots on the stove. That would just take a few minutes, you say? You are obviously a bad person who would not give baby what baby wants with proper immediacy. Thus, enter The Randomizer.

The Randomizer is a wonder of modern engineering. With a heating element in its little hole, it steams small amounts of water to heat the bottle. How small? Ah, there's the rub. If you put an 6 ml of water into The Randomizer, you get cold formula; but if you put in 6.5 ml, you get boiled formula. Or maybe not. It all depends on the composition and initial temperature of the formula, the room temperature, the barometric pressure, etc. Or maybe it is merely the mood of The Randomizer on that particular night. As you can see from the photo, my parents have tried to propitiate the Randomizer by sprinking offerings of Mylanta at its feet. But its thoughts are not their thoughts, nor are its ways their ways.

In any case, usually The Randomizer makes the formula so hot that it has to be placed in an ice bath to cool the formula in order not to scald baby's tender mouth. My parents keep a Big Gulp cup on hand at all times for just this purpose.

Sometimes if they get distracted, the ice bath cools the formula to refrigerator temperature again and the process begins anew! How did former generations survive without such conveniences?!

2. The Sling:


Rustic, don't you think? We have a Baby Bjorn, but really -- it's overkill. We're not going for any backpacking trips just yet.

Also, Mom has never quite gotten over missing Woodstock, so this is her attempt at looking like a granola-eater. No, I take that back -- she's not posing. Do you know what a recycling Nazi she is?

Anyway, all it really is is an adjustable sash. I sit in the pocket formed by its sag at mom's hip. I'm an outdoorsy kind of girl, so this enables mom to haul me around the neighborhood without her arms falling off.

I think mom chose this hippie pattern because it was on sale. Fabulous it's not. I'm trying to convince her at least to stitch "Miss Georgia Girl" on it. I'll be eligible in 21 months, and you can't start campaigning too soon.

--Maddie