Monday, June 2, 2014

You know that thing where...

You know that thing where you go to Nordstrom Rack for sports bras and buy two based on the look of them and then they don't fit your newly giant boobs so you go back and when you take off your shirt to try them on, your baby sees your boob and says "GOOOOO!" and then you squirt boob juice all over the stroller (fortunately not all over the clothes you weren't going to buy) and then your baby starts crying and then you have to feed her in the handicapped Nordstrom Rack dressing room and you're sure everyone knows?

You know that thing where your infant slept through the night and it was blissful and then you told too many people about it and the karmic gods saw fit to teach your baby how to roll onto her face while swaddled and now you can't swaddle her any more and she's too young to self soothe so no one sleeps anymore?

You know that thing where you go to a new mom meet up group and you're so desperate for a friend who understands you that you overlook significant personality differences like a girl who doesn't know how to choose a boyfriend and when you find someone you like for reasons besides that their kid is your kid's age you have to try really hard not to come off too needy but really you just want to hang out and talk about squirting your boobs in Nordstrom Rack?

...where you get exactly one third of a chore done a day because you get interrupted and also your attention span ain't what it used to be (and sometimes you just go on Facebook or blog instead of doing laundry because you long to taste the sweet freedom of doing something totally selfish)?

...where you have people over and at some point the baby freaks out and you have to hang out with her in her room and you pretend you're really sad about it but really you're not used to this much adult human conversation at once and you appreciate the chance to speak in gibberish and pick at your daughter's eye goo crusties for a few minutes while you hear them discussing world politics you don't care about anymore because you have become a giant boob?

...where your baby is the cutest and sweetest and best and most advanced baby in the whole world simply because you made her and that's the most narcissistic and god-complexy thing that ever was and you don't care it's just true, duh?!

...where they told you breastfeeding would burn a ton of calories and so don't worry about the number on the scale but you do because it's shorts season and you are always hungry for hamburgers because of the breastfeeding and then you're like "screw it" and then you remember you're in a wedding in three weeks so you go push the stroller up and down the hills in your neighborhood and then get so hungry you need a hamburger?

...where you're just waiting for the houseplant to die already so you don't have to feel guilty about not watering it and you totally could if you cared but it's just a plant and am I a bad person for not caring about a plant?

...where a shirt is still clean if it has baby vomit on it as long as it's rubbed in?

...where your google search history now contains phrases such as, "neon green baby poop" and "why do my armpits itch when I nurse?"

...where you think you've got it all covered from a parenting perspective until every day when you realize you're just making it up as you go like when you didn't know to give her vitamin D or when the campfire made her eyes red or when she pooped everywhere and you had to give her a bath but normally Daddy Doctor gives her a bath and you realize you have no idea how to give her a bath and want Daddy Doctor to know that you're fallible because you know you can be too know-it-ally with the baby stuff?

...where you wake up several times a night to make sure she's still breathing even though you know deep down that she's fine but you worked so hard cooking her you're not about to lose her now and end up waking her up by being close to her and she looks super pissed at you and you feel guilty but do it again a few hours later?

...where the most interesting thing in the world is watching her sleep or coo or especially smile at you and you have no idea what movies are in theatres and don't care at all which celebrities got married and you're sitting in your living room in a nursing bra and underwear and dirty hair and smelling like baby vomit and you wouldn't have it any other way?

Yeah. Me too.

What' I'm having for lunch...and dinner.

1 comment:

  1. I'm convinced we should be friends, based on three facts: way too much milk, a constant NEED for hamburgers because of aforementioned milk, and babies who have their own definitions of sleep.