When you reach into your bra to remove your nursing pad and notice you applied the nursing pad inside out with the adhesive pressed against your breast instead of your bra.
You then spend a few highly uncomfortable minutes peeling the pad from your already sore nipple.
Um, HELLO. I need those nipples intact, yo. And what’s with all the toile? Can’t you see I’m punk rock?
I had big plans to post about the first month of mommyhood when Wito decided to endure a growth spurt and feed every 2 hours around the clock. Good times.
My very cute pediatrician with a South African accent told me Wito would become much fussier in the upcoming weeks, and yes, he was correctamundo. And might I mention, I very much enjoy listening to anything the cute pediatrician says. Double swoon. Did you ever see the Sex and the City episode where Charlotte hires the hot divorce lawyer and acts all sweet and demure when she really wants to tell it like it is in the bitchiest of ways? Um, kind of like my situation with the pediatrician. Although, I’m sure the first 102 degree fever will swiftly take care of that issue.
He’s still a perfect angel baby during the day, but then the sun starts to set and DUH DUH DUNNNNN, scary devil baby emerges. This is the time when nothing will satisfy him. Rocky-vibrating chair thing? HATES IT. Tummy time? HATES IT. Being swaddled? Super duper HATING IT to the tenth degree. Have you seen the Miracle Blanket? This thing is like a straight jacket, but he somehow manages to bust out of it every time. I have given birth to a mini-Houdini. Shushing? Nope. Pacifier? For about 5 minutes until he violently knocks it out of his mouth while scratching his eyeballs out.
My God, the DRAMA.
I wonder who he gets that from?
I even drove to Babies”R”US like a bat out of hell to purchase the swing of all swings to appease him. After reading all the reviews, I figured it had to work. Um, HATED IT*. This was the point of no return. My first true baby-related meltdown. I wish I had it on video.
SAJ to the rescue! Thank Jebus she got me outside into the fresh air where I realized there is still a thriving world outside of my nightly Temple of Baby Doom.
We walked to the park while I enjoyed the sunshine on my pale-ass shoulders. I am very pale, people. The walk was glorious. Oh, and she took photos of the blessed event. Enjoy!
* He now enjoys the swing. And the Baby Bjorn. Hell yes.
Seriously. And how are they so damn witty? I can’t seem to find the time to sit and write, and even if I did, my brain is the equivalent of rice pudding.
And I really want to tell you about the funny (funny-peculiar, not funny-haha) things I’ve been doing lately. Like when I thought it would be fun to read a book to Whoorlito, stuck a big colorful page right in his face, and experienced my baby’s first scared-out-of-his-mind freak out.
Note to self- do NOT stick big colorful busy objects in infant’s face. It apparently is very disturbing to infant.
Y’all. A nine-pound being is running my life. I can’t even go to the bathroom without wondering if he is going to fuss while I’m peeing. And he’s not even that fussy! He’s just got a wicked internal radar that alerts him when I start to leave the room. It never fails.
My mother left this morning after helping me for a week and a half. It was so fabulous and helpful and I’m so sad she’s gone because today it’s just me and the super pooper.
SHIT…he DOES have internal radar super powers! Everytime I start writing an entry he wakes up from his nap. Is he emitting a hunger fuss/grunt or is he relieving himself of some mustard custard (thanks Caroline)? Who knows…it’s all a crapshoot around here. Literally.
Wait, he’s back to sleep. Okay, now he’s smiling. Crying now. Face is turning very red. Furrowing his brows. Annnndddd, back to sleep.
What the fuck.
All in all, how could you be mad at this sweet thing?
