For starters, I have to say I don’t like how they changed the WordPress format. Like Squeaker, I am not a fan of change. Nope. Not at all. It’s like when FaceBook changed to the Timeline and, in protest, I deactivated my account. In fact, someone give me my pacifier before I fly off the handle in purple rage.
Is it that obvious how few outlets I’ve had lately?
Actually, my life has mostly revolved around a spirited newborn, reading about how to soothe said spirited newborn, and watching taped American sitcoms with my husband. Ask us anything about 30 Rock, just don’t ask why two nights ago Squeaker cried inconsolably for four hours, okay? Because we don’t know and she’s not saying. She’s so stubborn that if she ever got questioned by the mob, for whatever reason, you know, they’d break before she would.
Lately, I’ve been picking through a new baby book when I have time (which is never). Besides the obvious never having time thing, my attention span is severely limited. I read for five minutes, set the book down and come back, “Was I on page 17 or 77? What was the last thing I read? I like 77 better…” And that’s why every parenting book should constantly have a few sentences to update you on what you just read, you know, every few pages or so. It’s the Twitter-ing of literature and I may be the first to come up with it. Either that, or they should be Choose Your Own Adventure Style and when you turn to page 68: “You removed the diaper too quickly and got projectile-pooped on. Now you must change your clothes and the baby’s. It’s a slippery slope to insanity from here. The end.”
Moving on, the book stated that during the first few weeks, it’s okay to still be in your pajamas at 4 PM, but at five weeks, you should have established enough of a routine and being in your PJs at 4 would be, uh, an embarrassing admittance of failure. Right…I took editorial liberty with that. But, thank God, we were out of our pajamas by 3 yesterday, right?
Whatever. I’ve decided to no longer to mourn the fact I have less time to pluck my eyebrows, dry my hair or put on makeup. Most days, I walk around looking like someone you expect to see in Birkenstocks and toe socks at a co op. If only I could fit my mangled toes in toe socks! Then my daughter would never be embarrassed by me…ever.
All in all, I shouldn’t complain too much. I’ve been feeling pretty good lately considering the baby sleep deprivation aspect and that they sliced into my abdomen and extracted an eight plus pound baby. And I’ve been very lucky to have my husband here to help with almost everything. I credit that with maintaining my sanity.
We were recently remarking on all the ways our lives have changed post-baby and the list went like this:
1. Sleeping for four and half hours in one stretch is amazing and has the same restorative benefits as a solid eight hours pre-baby.
2. Baby poop and farts are endlessly amusing but make for socially awkward jokes.
3. Babies are not as portable as their small statures would belie. You inevitably carry fours times your baby’s body weight in supplies for “just in case” moments.
4…. And that was as far as we got before one of us probably fell asleep.
Yet, Christmas is coming up and there is a layer of white slushy snow on the ground outside. And I just managed to lay Squeaker down (on my bed, not hers) and she’s still there sleeping. If those aren’t exciting times, then let’s talk again in a few years.