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tales of something simple - February 2012

i believe

Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.

all types of chaos

things i didn't know would happen until a baby exited my body through my vagina

Lots of things can prepare you for having a baby. Things like gifts, parenting guides, advice from friends, co-workers, family and that bitch at the grocery store who exclaimed “oh my god is it twins?!” when you are only six months pregnant.

But nothing, I repeat nothing, can prepare you for being a parent.

The baby is the easy part.  It poops.  Pees.  Sleeps.  Eats.  Cries.  Not necessarily in that order, but as you learn as a new parent, anything is possible.  ANYTHING.  Your baby does this for about the first three months.  You sail through life on autopilot and then one day this blob of a squishy being comes alive with a smile, a laugh and a personality all its own.  Along this journey you learn lots of valuable lessons, and some mistakes you repeatedly make like forgetting the diaper bag when you leave the house, or remembering it but finding later that there ARE no DIAPERS in IT.  As I looked around my house today (as I frantically cleaned like a woman on speed, flying through each room dusting, vacuuming, spraying, collecting, folding) I laughed out loud.  So much has changed and most of it you could have told me months ago and I would have nodded and smiled, confident to take on the world.  And now I laugh and point at that naive woman, but I also pat her on the back and say “hey little mama.  You’re gonna get this shit figured out.  It’s just that no one can teach it to ya’.”

So, if you are pregnant, nod and smile.  If you are already a mother of a child under one year, high five me.  If you are a parent of a child who is older, or if you were insane enough to have more than one human being, laugh and point at me for all the lessons I have yet to learn.

  • I literally don’t care most days what I look like.  I have always cared what I look like.  I care if I have a little makeup on, if my hair is blown dry.  I am not vain per say, but I like to look…put together.  Today?  If the baby’s clothes match, has a clean diaper and I actually have my glasses on my face and not lost somewhere in the house I give myself a gold star.
  • I appreciate putting on jeans and hairspray five thousand more times now than I did a year ago.  Never underestimate the power of a thong and a good eyelash curler, even now.
  • Oh you spit up?  Oh I forgot a burp cloth/tissue/napkin/blanket in the car and we are in the middle of the dairy aisle?  Here.  Use my brand new sweater sleeve (true story).
  • Toys are in every single room of my house.  Yes, even the bathroom.  Actually some of the most fun toys are in the bathroom.
  • You’re bored with your mobile?  Here, let’s go to the craft store and make brand new dangly things to hang from there to entertain you.
  • You are only two months old?  Yes, let’s make snowflakes out of construction paper and put it in a box called “give to Marley when she is 30″ and say it was your first activity.
  • I can return calls, breastfeed on one boob, pump the other, yell at the dog and half watch Ellen all at once.
  • It is possible to be angry at your baby when it wakes up for the 8th time in two hours.
  • I turn off the baby monitor when we have sex.  Which we still do, thank you Jesus.  I’m sure she’s fine in there.
  • I do about 17 loads of laundry a week.  I have no fucking idea why.
  • I loathe strangers that touch my baby.  Think of her as a piranha in the pet store that says “do not touch or tap on glass.”
  • I say a silent “fuck off” to old ladies that dare make a comment regarding whether my kid is wearing a hat or jacket as I walk 10 feet to my car from the store.  I do not always remember such things, however I willingly take off my clothes any day and wrap her in them so I freeze and she does not.
  • I read parenting magazines and actually save articles on how to organize hair clips or make sock puppets or force healthy meals down her throat without her knowing for when she is much older.  I hope I remember five years from now where I filed that crap.
  • I worry about everything.  Is she breathing when she is in her crib?  Is she tired?  Hungry?  Does she feel well?  Are her teeth bothering her?  Is she hot? Cold?  Is it safe?  Is she happy?  Am I doing it right?
  • Forgot diapers and she just shit her pants?  Stick two maxi pads to her onesie, snap it up and continue shopping.  Always really does have wings.
  • There is nothing in the entire world that can take away pain, exhaustion, hurt, sadness, frustration than seeing my kid lock eyes with me and just smile.
  • My body is never going to be the same.  I hate my boobs, I have no butt, no pants fit, even the new ones.  I’m over it. Let’s move on.
  • I can get more done in one hour not holding my baby than a hotter chick sitting in a bar on a Friday night wearing a sign that says “take me.”
  • Baby poop actually still smells.  It’s not cute because she is cute.  It’s still nasty as hell and I do sometimes hold my nose or make gagging noises.
  • I will publicly dance, sing and make a fool of myself in any store, any aisle, at any time of day to keep her from crying and I could care less if you put me on YouTube.
  • I will blare music, roll down windows, yell her name and jiggle her car seat to keep her from falling asleep until we get home.
  • I would stand in front of a freight train for my daughter.  Literally.  Her life is special.  Important.  Sacred.

She is mine.  I am hers.  We are beautiful even amidst the mess of child and parent rearing.  I am raising her.  And in a big way…she is raising me.


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