We
were once a grown-ass couple. We were independent. We drank, a lot. We dined
out, a lot. We spent our money at expensive boutiques. We travelled, a lot. But
most of all, we slept in ‘til whatever goddamn time we felt necessary. Then we
had a baby…
Nowadays
I wake up at 5:30 am, everyday, seven days a week…apparently motherhood has
made me a neurotic psycho that can’t seem to sleep past 6:00am. Also, if I wake
up at this time I guarantee myself a calm start to the day. I make my baby’s
bottle, feed the dog, walk the dog, and make coffee all before my little one
starts to squirm. I know it might sound ridiculous, but it’s heavenly. Should I
decide to sleep in, my mornings turn into a scene from I Know What You did Last Summer, sans the blood. Just a lot of
screaming and frantic running around…
But,
regardless of whether I wake up at 5:30 am or 7:00 am…things like this seem to
happen to me, a lot:
- You schedule weekly mommy lunches to which
you’re, for the most part, surprisingly on time for. This requires a tremendous
amount of preparation. But, on more than one occasion you will find yourself
stuck in traffic for 1 ½ hours with your baby screaming her/his head off. You
will be rendered helpless, and will give in to the urge to cry your eyes out
along with your child. I’m sure other drivers will find this quite interesting
as you’re stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. But you will be mortified and
scarred for life.
- Upon reaching your destination, your child will
decide to FINALLY go #2 after days of withholding from the act.
Hence/thus/therefore you will have a fecal explosion to deal with in a public
bathroom. Other women will give you dirty looks as you rip clothes off your
sodden child…Oh, not to mention that this will happen on the ONE day you forget
to pack a proper replacement outfit, so your child will then be parading around
in public looking like a hot mess. Embarrassing.
- Should you NOT know this by now, all babies
think it’s best to go pee and poo at an accelerated rate the moment you take
them out of the house. So, on any give day you will go through at least three
outfits on a 2-hour outing. For example, first she will pee the equivalent of
her weight to the point where the diaper will begin to leak (cue change of
clothes #1). Then she will poop (cue change #2). Then she will decide to spit
up like a fountain; by the time change #3 comes around you’ll be scavenging for
random separates scattered in your diaper bag, which will result in your child
looking like a homeless baby with hand-me-downs on…cue rushing back home.
- Here’s one thing I can’t get over: that awkward
moment when you find yourself face-to-face with a breastfeeding mom in a Nordstrom’s
bathroom. She will be eagerly feeding her mischievous 8-month old, flashing him
(and you) her boob while going “Aqui esta la leche bebe” (“Here’s your milk
baby”). SHOOT ME NOW!
- Your baby will pee all over your duvet cover,
and you won’t care, at all…’cause honestly, I’m not washing that shit.
FEBREEZE!
- You will start a blog when your baby is a
peaceful newborn, thinking that you will have the time to devote to this new
hobby, only to realize that the little buggers will start to sleep less and
whine more as they get older. You will begin to devote an immense amount of
time to entertaining an infant, which entails: singing totally made-up songs
(‘cause unless there’s another child in the house, you truly don’t have a clue
about lullaby lyrics) and aimlessly pacing up and down your townhouse with baby
in tow. Should a peeping Tom peek into your house he’ll think you’ve taken up
cabaret classes as you’ll also start using “Jazz hands” and exaggerated facial
expressions both of which your baby finds hilarious (I like to think I’m giving
my face mad exercise and will therefore never wrinkle!) All of these things
will leave little time for you to eat and shower, much less sit down and write
a full blog post.
- You will realize that there’s no such thing as
acquiring new hobbies…you’ll settle for getting through the day alive.
- Your new bedtime is 10 pm sharp. You’ll invite friends
over for dinner at 6pm and practically kick them out at 9:45pm. If they
complain, they’re still single and don’t have an f-ing clue.
- On the rare occasion that you decide to stop drinking for a month to shed some of the baby weight and then proceed to drink yourself senseless on your birthday, you will realize that a hangover is a parent's worst enemy. You will ask the Powers that Be to open the Earth and swallow you whole as you lay on the floor, curled up in fetal position, next to your baby's tummy time mat. You will never ever want to drink again, ever, until you remember the bottle of bubbly sitting in the fridge. Mimosas anyone?
There
are many more things I could list, but they’ll have to wait…’cause the baby is
up and I’ve got a version of All That
Jazz I’ve been dying to try out on her. Wish me luck…*cue jazz hands*
Nothing like my bottle and my mommy's
tone-deaf singing...