Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Sweet Potatoes on my Shoulder and Baby Poo on my Finger
How life has changed for me.
With the girls, I was in full-on baby mode. Three years apart, no one in school yet, we played together and worked together and in general life was pretty cozy. I was in the Toddler mode.
Fast forward to now: I've got an 8 year old in 3rd grade, a 5 year old in preschool, and a 6th month old baby. Quite a difference. With some pretty big changes. The most difficult is trying to get Emma to the bus stop in the morning, Laura to preschool an hour later. Then pick up Laura at noon, Emma at three. And somewhere in between I have to get things done and let Jack take two good naps. Not going so well.
Having Jack has been a wonderful thing. Loving his babyhood with a little bit of experience under my belt. Having a better perspective.
But it's also been hard. Much more jarring than I thought it would be. Jumping back into babyland after a 5 year break is like jumping into a freezing cold lake. A bit of a shock. I had two girls who could get their own cereal and wipe their own behinds.
Sooo many things I'd forgotten. The good, the bad, and the ugly.
soft skin, sweet smells, little teeth peeking through gums, milky smiles, tiny clothes, nuzzling into necks, baby giggles, big, blue, loving, trusting eyes.
poop, poop, poop.
Poop in the tub, poop oozing out of his clothes onto yours, Poop shooting up the back of his diaper at church the day you forgot an extra outfit, and then there's those special, happy times when he reaches down between his monkey legs and grabs his poop and then smears it in his hair and on his cheeks.
Do you really want to know?
Okay, then. You asked for it.
Severe, mind-bending sleep-deprivation. And it's not like the first baby when you can stay home the next day and recover. Oh no, those days are over.
Colic. Screaming, soul-killing colic.
Fat. Not the baby's, 'cause his is cute. Yours is not cute. Yes, in time and with work it will go away, but it's definitely there for now. Cause you're too dang tired to do anything about it.
And then there's the moodiness. Don't worry, I will never tell your husband how moody you are, but between us girls, meow. I go from high euphoria to wanting to crawl into the back of my closet for the next year or so. It's because all of our dang hormones are out of whack.
Nursing. Not bad after a while, but in the beginning I felt like a moo cow. A moo cow in a lot of pain.
Now, I realize that my "Ugly" list is longer than the good list. Take heart, it is only that way for the first four to six months. I'm just being honest with you. I would never lie to you, because I'm your real friend. Then at four months, your little squalling alien turns into this...well...a human being. A nice, wonderful little human being.
I was thinking about this the other day as I fed Jack, sitting in the chair, reflecting on my life. I had sweet potatoes crusted onto my shoulder where he nuzzled me after eating, and poo on my finger after I unwittingly did too thorough of an "are you poopy?" check.
But still, I love that little man. And while I might not always enjoy the moment, I do love the journey.
All is Well.
Well, at least after I wash my hands.