Playboy Bunnies and 7 Other Sweet Postpartum Jams

The first months of parenthood are rough, y'all, I'm not gonna lie. They're like that stress dream where it's the first day of school and you're two hours late, you can't find your classroom, you're suddenly naked as you round the corner into the ninth-grade lockers, and someone's given you a helpless infant that you're expected to keep alive without instructions. (Incidentally, instead of giving middle-schoolers eggs to take care of for a week, they should get greased-up watermelons filled with fetid water that slowly leaks out of a tiny hole at the bottom. I should have gone into education.)

ANYWAY.

There are a few things that have gotten me through the winter (obviously not WRITING, amirite? Ha ha. But seriously, no.) that I feel the need to publicly thank. My postpartum jams, if you will. And if you are a new or expectant parent, or just an awesome person who likes booze and weird anime sites about vegetables, I hope they may bring you some comfort, too.

1. The Girls Next Door Workout DVD. Now. I realize that a lot of people might have a bone to pick with that collection of words. Maybe it's "The Girls Next Door." Like, Una, how could you watch something sooooooo awful and degrading to women? To which I reply, but I've never seen Two and a Half Men. BAM. But in all seriousness, this empty-calorie "documentary" about Hugh Hefner and his decades-younger ladyfriends is kind of riveting. Or was, back when it premiered in the mid-aughts. Maybe you object to the fact that I am "working out." But, oh, friends, that's the magic thing. Because the "workout" is led by Playboy bunnies, it is the easiest thing ever. Each segment is 15 minutes long, tops, and they can't move too fast because of their giant boobs and tight shorts. So it's a lot of half-assed squats along with invaluable advice like, "Remember to breathe, because if you don't, you'll die." and "Point your toes to the sky!"

(I do NOT recommend following that advice, by the way. I don't know what Filipino malapropism Holly was smoking.)

2. My brown husband. Not what you think. I still have the white husband (Jeff.) I just also have this:

Once you go brown, you'll love sitting down.

Yup, it's a pillow. Called "the husband." How sad, right? Wrong! Amazing invention for back support while you're nursing a 17-lb. baby. And lets you make strangers think you live a thrilling, Big Love-meets-Jungle Fever lifestyle.

3. Dry shampoo. If I manage to shower, it's a Very Big Deal. On the other four days of the week (shut up, brown husband doesn't judge), I turn to my new lover dry shampoo. It, along with deodorant and passably clean underpants keeps me, if not Zest-fully clean, then at least no dirtier than your average teenage street urchin.

4. Leekspin.com. I am that mom who freaks out if her baby so much as glances at the television during 30 Rock, screaming "It's breaking his braaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiinnnnnnn!!!!"And yet I will happily sit S. in front of this bizarre site, which Jeff turned me onto a few years ago. It is literally nothing more than a happy anime girl spinning a big leek while she sings a gibberish song (at least I think it's gibberish; otherwise it is Japanese and I am racist). Regardless, the kid LOVES it. If I sit him in his Bumbo facing the computer, it buys me enough time to frantically dry shampoo my hair, and maybe even pee.

5. Wine. I mean, really--you knew this. Once a wino, always a wino. But of course I no longer drink to excess. Even though only 1% of what I ingest goes into my breastmilk, I err on the side of caution. S. is going to have to take care of me someday, and he can't be too drunk.

6. Teen Mom 2. This show is a scourge on humanity and an embarrassment to everyone involved. But it is also postpartum Prozac. You will feel like the best parent in the universe after watching an episode of Teen Mom 2. For example: Is your mother suing you for custody of your child? Does your baby-daddy's post-pubescent acne prevent him from growing a proper beard? No? YOU WIN AT LIFE.

Is this you? No? YOU ARE THE BEST MOM EVER.

7. My Hooter Hider. I know I wrote about everyone and (literally) their mom seeing my boobs, but in actuality when I'm in public I make use of a handy little chest apron called The Hooter Hider. (Also, to the commenter who told me last time that breastfeeding in public is "digusting": I have seen people eat Indian food on the subway. I have seen men with toe fungus wearing flip-flops. Breastfeeding is definitely NOT the worst thing people do in public.) The name may be unforgivably dumb--why not just call it Aureole-Away, or Tit Tent?--but it is extremely useful, seeing as my son likes to whip his head back and forth like Willow whenever I whip my nips out, like he's trying to flag down the Girls Gone Wild crew.

It's like a big muumuu necklace!

8. Mullet wigs. Because when you find yourself at a loss for activities, you can always get a head start on next year's Christmas card.

(Jeff said, "I like that you're showing some leg, too." I am nothing if not pure sex.)

Playboy Bunnies and 7 Other Sweet Postpartum Jams