The Devil Wears Old Navy Baby

I’ve just finished reading The Devil Wears Prada, and so I thought I’d do a side-by-side comparison, since the similarities between the boss from hell and “working” for a baby are so evident. That’s how I came to the conclusion that the devil wears Old Navy Baby (and sometimes Gymboree, when there’s a sale).
Note: Of course babies are way cuter, nicer, lovable, and in no way devils.

You probably know the story, but here’s the quick blah, blah, blah plot summary: Andy is the junior assistant to Miranda, the editor-in-chief of a high fashion magazine, and so has to do more of the hands on grunt work than the senior assistant.

Therefore:
We mommies are the junior assistants, and daddies the senior assistants (because we do more of the work in the trenches—but go daddies!).

Andy is on call 24/7.
Mommies are on call 24/7.

Andy gets very little sleep, due to the demands of her job.
Mommies get very little sleep due to the demands of their job.

Andy is not allowed to skip work due to any kind of illness.
Mommies are not allowed to skip work because they are sick.

Andy is not allowed to eat in front of Miranda (“What is that disgusting thing?”
she asks as Andy stands there with a cup of soup. “Throw it out!”)
Mommies are similarly and otherwise prevented from eating.

Andy survives on Starbucks.
I survive on Starbucks (can’t generalize this one, cause I don’t know about other mommies’ drinking habits).

Andy sneaks in calls when she is ostensibly on the job.
Mommies sneak in phone calls only when babies nap, ostensibly on the job.

Miranda’s mood is unpredictable.
Babies’ moods are unpredictable.

Miranda never gives praise for a job well done, but screams when Andy has done something wrong.
Babies don’t give praise for a job well done, but use the cry/scream as the main channel of communication.

Miranda expects Andy to read her mind, and anticipate needs, and frequently changes her mind at the last minute.
Yup.

The pay is a mere pittance.
Ditto.

And finally: Andy is promised that the reward for putting in just a year of servitude will be a leg up on the competition for her dream job.
Mommies are motivated to survive the year by thoughts of an equally tremendous reward—a child who sleeps through the night and eats solids (ah, freedom!).

P.S. It occurs to me that making a comparison of the most taxing job imaginable with motherhood is so easy, I might as well have launched into a tirade examining the ways in which the Pirates of the Caribbean ride in WDW is imperialistic and misogynistic . . .