Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Bobo babe

Le Petit has decided he loves his Moby wrap carrier. Or maybe I've just finally figured out how to wrap it properly. Either way, he spent a good part of the day snuggled in it, first craning his neck to watch me clean the kitchen, then hiking across town with me to the big supermarket.

I love it because it's easier on my back than the Bjorn. I also like that it can be adjusted so that le Petit's little hands are tucked in and I don't have to squeeze him into mittens. But then, of course, there's the bobo effect. Bobo = bourgeois bohemian, kind of a cross between a yuppie and a hippie and a common species in Paris, especially in the eastern arrondissements. They're much more likely to be cruising around Paris on a Vélib' than driving a fancy car, or wearing a fair trade organic baby wrap than pushing a stroller. (Although, to be fair, the latest fancy-dancy, all-terrain, get-back-to-nature strollers do have some serious bobo appeal.)

So I make fun of them, of course. But now that le Petit has decided he wants to be carried all the time, I'm getting into the whole granola earth mother thing. I "wear" him proudly. I'm way in touch with my kid, I keep thinking smugly, just see how happy he looks. And then when he starts fussing anyway because he's tired and having trouble falling asleep, I feel just a teensy bit silly.

I ran into another mom at the supermarket today. She was just in front of me in the checkout line with a full shopping cart and an unhappy baby in a car seat on the floor. "He's four months old," she answered when I asked, "and would much rather be in my arms right now."

I sympathized, and I later helped her as she struggled to open a door with the full cart in one hand, the baby in the other. We chatted a bit, exchanging the usual baby stats that new mothers love, and then she mentioned my baby carrier.

"It makes things so much easier," I told her. "I can even do a bit of housework!" realizing I never thought I'd say that with such enthusiasm.

"I've got one myself," she said, "but I haven't used it yet," so I explained how le Petit took some time to warm up to his.

"I've got a Bjorn, though. Saves your life!" I heartily agreed. Beyond the aesthetic and the trendy, there's the practical. I've gotta admit, all those bobo mamas are on to something.

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