Yes. I am actually trying to recall when I last showered. Gone are the days where I could spend 30 minutes in a hot bath. Gone are the days of daily showers. I know when my baby last burped and memorized the number of ounces she devoured in her last meal before she decided to nod off but for goodness’ sakes, can someone tell me when was the last time I took a shower?
Ok. So I am typing this blog with one hand because my baby is sleeping in my arms and I am using my other arm to cradle her. Why you ask? Why is she sleeping in my arms even though we bought her a playpen, crib, bassinet, swing, vibrating chair and an expensive monitor? I will reply to you by saying… just because. Just because I want her in my arms. Just because I love feeling her warmth and seeing her expressions as she sleeps. Just because the days are passing too quickly and she is already three months old today. Just because I love seeing her little chest rise as she takes quick little breaths. Just because I love watching her wake up as her beautiful big eyes shift me into focus. Is that a good enough answer?
On to the issues of the day.
Issue one: What’s up with the comparisons? I feel like every new mom out there is comparing her little one to mine. I had a lady in the grocery store tell me that by three months her little boy was awake 10 hours a day. Well good for him, my baby happens to love her sleep (except at night when I’m sleepy but whatever). Another lady commented while I was shopping at Babies’R’Us about how tiny my baby is for her age. Really? Just because your child is sitting up at three months does not make it normal! Besides, she is tiny because she was born this way. Two words- LADY GAGA… look her up and give her a listen =)
Moral of the story: Each baby is unique and my baby is fine! *Also, Lady Gaga is a bad role model for children but her songs are one of my guilty pleasures.*
Issue two: I am a laid back mom. I still obsess about the safety of my baby and if bubbles were actual accessories, I would buy one but that doesn’t mean I am ok with strangers kissing my baby and touching her while she is sleeping in her car seat (because she likes to sleep during the day). Hands off- get your own baby. No offense grandma of 7 but I’m a little paranoid because I saw you handle meat back there in aisle one and you did not sanitize after (look who’s talking, the person who can’t remember her last shower). At the end of the day, other people’s babies are just like Kim Kardashian’s 20 karat ring… beautiful, bright and ridiculously valuable. Look, admire but please do not touch!
Moral of the story: Kim’s ring is actually gaudy in my opinion. Unlike my baby of course- it was just an analogy!
Issue three: Does it make me a bad mom that I don’t want to overdo it with the scrapbooking and professional photos because I know I would have to do that for child number two and maybe three? I mean, it is all fine and good and I am really impressed with the moms who do this but I am the youngest and let me tell you… how bitter I would have been if mommy focussed on my sister (the eldest) more than me. My childhood is just as fascinating.
Moral of the story: My mom chose not to do anything for any of us. Just some simple albums with our photos in them (unless my sister is stashing her memorabilia somewhere).
Issue four: I miss my husband. I see him- yes but I feel like I don’t have time with him. I love it when he focusses on the baby but I am experiencing an amazing need to be with him the way we used to be before she was born. I am sure this will get better (experienced moms- if this is not true, please just lie to me). I look at him sometimes and remember us running through green fields flying kites and blowing bubbles (yup, we actually did those things- you mean you didn’t?!)
Moral of the story: There is no moral lesson here just a word of caution to those who do not have children or are expecting… spend as much time together as possible. That means without the television, friends, relatives or the other everyday distractions.
Issue four: I have to vent here. There is NO NEED to spend hundreds of dollars on name brand clothing for babies!!!!! Why, I ask you, when they grow out of them so quickly? I love the moms who are like “Oh, that is so cute, is that Calvin Klein? I bought Jessica a pair of Jordans, they were on sale for $99, what a deal eh?” No, I disagree. All you did was buy into the capitalist and commercially driven marketing ploys to seemingly satiate your appetite for optimal parenthood through the purchase of material goods. Basically, you were a sucker and you could have invested the $89 you could have saved into a respectable savings account for your baby so that they can grow up, go to university and become the next business mogul or successful entrepreneur. Instead, they will have to settle on being really fashionable mall rats… is that what you want? Well, is it?
Moral of the story: I need to stop hating on people who like to dress their babies in outfits other than onesies which my baby happens to love! Also, there is nothing wrong with George and Joe Fresh as name brands for me and my baby!
Issue five and last issue for today: I have a belly that hangs over and makes me look like I am still slightly pregnant. I am not sure what to do with this extra skin and I refuse to believe that it will just sit there until I get pregnant again. I am walking, Yoga-ing, Tae-Bo’ing and even doing crunches (less occasionally than the other three forms of exercise but nevertheless) and yet there it is. It’s like a small skin tag except it’s not small and it’s not a skin tag =(
Moral of the story: If your husband gets fat with you then it will make you feel better about yourself!
Ok. She is waking up and I want to play with her so I will sign off here and let you know that I finally remembered the last time I showered… it was before her thirty-second spit-up episode and after her third time wearing that cute onesy with the kitty cat on it. We’re good for at least another day when my husband can take care of her for an hour or so…
Thank you for reading, until next time…
smartignani 