-
high needs baby
I shouldn’t gloat. But I have to admit I am taking guilty pleasure in the fact that when I left Baby Bug with Toby for a half an hour today while I ran to the store, she screamed bloody murder the entire time. When I got back she stopped crying and wouldn’t let Toby get near her. He tried to make goo goo eyes at her while she snuggled into my shoulder and just the sight of him sent her into another attack of the shrieks. It’s like he pinches her or something when I’m not looking.
She loves me, that little squirt. I guess all the one-on-one time I’ve been spending with her day in and day out is paying off. It’s an amazing feeling to know that I’m her mom. I’ve never been anybody’s mom before. I’ve been the super aunt… but this is a whole new level of being loved. It blows my mind.
Baby Bug has a lot of personality. She’s very determined and she knows exactly what she wants. This causes me a lot of frustration all day long. If I want to get anything done I have to figure out how to do it and pacify her at the same time. If she decides that she wants to be draped over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes then I have to drape her over my shoulder until I think my arm is going to fall off. Nothing else will do. She won’t play nicely on her blanket on the living room floor, her crib gives her the heebie jeebies, her bouncy chair that vibrates and plays music is a complete waste of money and her changing pad is a fun place to hang out but I can’t leave her there without worrying that she’ll flip herself off it and face plant onto the floor. I’m getting very good at doing things with one hand.
But when she finally does fall asleep in my arms at exactly seven-oh-one, she is the most adorable little lump of soft breathing marshmallow baby fluff that you ever rested your eyes upon. I completely forgive her for being so difficult all day long.
-
You Do What You Gotta Do…
I’ve been carrying around this blog post in my head for days. I hate doing that. I’ve probably forgotten all the funny parts. But lately I have to. This mom business takes up all my time! ALL OF IT!!! Between you and me, it’s kicking my butt. I started this illustration at six something this morning and just now, when Baby Bug is finally sleeping, I completed it. It’s 8:30 in the evening. Sigh… Can I do this?
But then I remember, she’s only one month old! What do I expect? It takes time to be a super mom, right?
Anyway, this illustration is me pushing my laundry across the street to the laundromat in the bugaboo. Reason number one-hundred-and-fifty-two: why the bugaboo rocks. You can use it as a wheel barrow! Rediculous I know. But I’m a bit stubborn and a marytyr sometimes. Toby said he’d help me with the laundry but I was at the point where the laundry had to be done and I couldn’t wait a minute longer. Neither me nor Baby Bug have enough clothes to go longer than two weeks. When every nursing bra practically stands up on it’s own from dried breast milk and Baby Bug doesn’t have any pajamas that aren’t soiled with poop, you know you need to do laundry no matter what.
If that means you put the baby in the sling and you push two giant Santa Claus sized bags of laundry across the street in the stroller, then that’ s what you do. And if the people who are stopped at the light waiting in their cars as you cross in front of them on the cross walk, snicker and hide their smiles behind their hands… then you just grin and bear it. Because you’re a mom now and you gotta do what you gotta do.
In other news: (or speaking of clothes…) The other day I tried on my fat jeans AND THEY FIT!!!! Well, sort of. I can put them on, pull them all the way up and I can button them! Woo Hoooo! You read that right, I can button them! I’m not talking any kind of rubber-bandy trick either. Never mind my stretched out belly that sort of rolls over the top and my granny panties that show out the back because my jeans are super low rise and I’m just not into wearing sexy thong underwear right now… This is big news!! First of all because I’m way ahead of schedule in losing the baby weight (take that Dr. Diaz who chided me constantly for gaining too much weight) and second of all, my mom scared the crap out of me by telling me that my hip bones would shift and I’d never be able to wear my old clothes again. You’re wrong Mom! My bones are fine… well, at least in my fat jeans.
