There are plenty of things that have fallen through the cracks in the past 33 days. Some of them don't matter, and some should but don't. Mr. Declan Benjamin Clark, or as I like to call him Mr. Bugglesworth (or Buggy Bear, or Baby Bear, or Bugglelodeon, or Toots McGroots, or Buggster) has consumed the past nearly five weeks, which is how it's supposed to be when you're a new mom....right? Just agree with me to make me feel better. Before he was born people told me that, post-birth-giving, sleep would be but a sweet memory, that "me" time would be akin to that memory from college when you drank too much, partied too hard and made a fool of yourself in a totally non-self-aware way (in other words, something that you wouldn't do now, but you can secretly daydream about it when the baby is sleeping for 10 minutes in a row...which is a small victory some days), and that personal hygiene would go out the window, which will have to be cracked open to air out the stench of a grown woman who hasn't washed her hair in 5 days. All of this is true.
It's amazing how quickly days disappear without much thought when you're a walking, non-showering baby-feeding machine. I have enough energy to feed Mr. Bugglesworth, to change his constantly collecting diaper, and to bathe him every other day. In between, I try to entertain him while he's awake and keep him asleep when he's sleeping. Sounds like easy tasks, but my goodness, not easy. I am now 35 years old and this past month makes me wonder how women much younger and much less prepared to be mothers get through this. It's not easy. Combine the sleep deprivation with the hormones and then add in the random paranoia that this child I've given life to may or may not hate me at any given moment, and it's enough to make this grown woman (though I'm not grown up) have little meltdowns along the way. I've decided to take an inventory of things that I no longer have the desire, energy or give-a-crap to do anymore:
1. Putting on makeup, fixing my hair, getting dressed. I used to see mothers at the store in sweatpants and a stained shirt and think to myself, "Dude, just because you have kids doesn't mean you should look like you've given up on life." But now I know very intimately from the flipside what's going on when you see a disheveled mom with a bundle of joy at the grocery store. When Buggy Bear is fed and dressed, I have exactly 2 hours before the next feeding to get something, anything, done. I get him in that car seat, in the car, and on the road before I realize that I'm wearing what I slept in. Or that I forgot to brush my teeth. It doesn't matter though, because we're out of milk or eggs or bread and I need to get to the store. Everyone else, I apologize for my breath, hair, face, stained shirt, but unless you're offering to breastfeed my baby so I can have a three-hour block of pampering before I go to the store, um, shove it. Yeah. I said shove it. And I meant it. I have enough time to shop, get the groceries to the car, get home, get the groceries into the fridge before Little Man is insisting on being fed.
2. Updating my blog. My brain doesn't work very well anymore, and when it does I don't have the time or two free hands to type. Anyone who wants to volunteer to hold Mr. Bugglestein whilst I write completely pointless crap, just let me know. Halfway through writing this post, Toots McGroots woke up to feed, so I've typed this with one hand while dispensing nourishment to my offspring. I'm a multitasker. I'm also asking forgiveness for typos.
3. Returning emails or phone calls. I love you, and I'm sorry about not returning your email or phone call or text. It's not that I don't want to, it's just that I'm using all my energy to do things that are required for the survival and well being of my progeny. Please forgive me, and please stay on the line until a representative is available. Currently the wait is about 4-5 years.
On the flipside, here are things I somehow find time to do everyday:
1. Vacuum. Not because I want to, and not because the floor is dirty, but because this weird child of mine cannot sleep when it's quiet. The more RC and I tiptoe around him when he's sleeping, the more he wakes up. Turn on the TV, the fan in the bathroom, and then vacuum around his bassinette? Kid's asleep in 12 seconds flat. He's weird, but that's what makes him mine. So, the floor around our bedroom is cleaner than anything in the house. And the fan in the bathroom is about to detonate from overuse. But Declan is sleeping, and that's what matters.
2. Exercise. Not because I want to, but because Declan is not a child who likes to be stationary. If he's awake, he wants to be in motion. So there are daily walks, adventures to the store or Target, and lots of pacing and dancing in the living room (thankfully we have the same taste in music...so far). He gets the need to be on the go from me when I was young. Not now. Now I'm lazy as crap. But I used to like doing stuff and junk. Now I like napping.
3. Cooking. I have to eat well to feed him well, so I cook. Oh how I would love to be lazy and eat junk food and frequent drive-throughs, but when I eat junk Baby Bear suffers. Damn, this selflessness is hard work.
4. Work. I had a 2,000-word article due for Consumers Digest Magazine the week Declan was born. I sent it in 2 days late after being granted an extension from the editor. While I didn't get to proofread my work as closely as I would've liked, the story was complete and more "together" than a lot of articles from freelance writers. I would've rather been in bed recuperating from the emergency C-section, but when you're unemployed you take what you can get and you write articles while popping 600mg ibuprofen and Vicodin, and you have a rag on hand to mop up the drool from the keyboard.
5. Take photos. Baby Bear is photogenic, and I've documented that fact ad nauseam. I'd say it's not my fault he's so cute, but it's half my fault. The weirdest part is when he's asleep I look at photos of him. I may need an intervention.
Okay, my talent to multitask is running short. I can't burp Bugglelodeon while typing, so I hope you all have a fabulous 2012, and I hope that I'll return to the land of the living sometime in the new year.
It's amazing how quickly days disappear without much thought when you're a walking, non-showering baby-feeding machine. I have enough energy to feed Mr. Bugglesworth, to change his constantly collecting diaper, and to bathe him every other day. In between, I try to entertain him while he's awake and keep him asleep when he's sleeping. Sounds like easy tasks, but my goodness, not easy. I am now 35 years old and this past month makes me wonder how women much younger and much less prepared to be mothers get through this. It's not easy. Combine the sleep deprivation with the hormones and then add in the random paranoia that this child I've given life to may or may not hate me at any given moment, and it's enough to make this grown woman (though I'm not grown up) have little meltdowns along the way. I've decided to take an inventory of things that I no longer have the desire, energy or give-a-crap to do anymore:
1. Putting on makeup, fixing my hair, getting dressed. I used to see mothers at the store in sweatpants and a stained shirt and think to myself, "Dude, just because you have kids doesn't mean you should look like you've given up on life." But now I know very intimately from the flipside what's going on when you see a disheveled mom with a bundle of joy at the grocery store. When Buggy Bear is fed and dressed, I have exactly 2 hours before the next feeding to get something, anything, done. I get him in that car seat, in the car, and on the road before I realize that I'm wearing what I slept in. Or that I forgot to brush my teeth. It doesn't matter though, because we're out of milk or eggs or bread and I need to get to the store. Everyone else, I apologize for my breath, hair, face, stained shirt, but unless you're offering to breastfeed my baby so I can have a three-hour block of pampering before I go to the store, um, shove it. Yeah. I said shove it. And I meant it. I have enough time to shop, get the groceries to the car, get home, get the groceries into the fridge before Little Man is insisting on being fed.
2. Updating my blog. My brain doesn't work very well anymore, and when it does I don't have the time or two free hands to type. Anyone who wants to volunteer to hold Mr. Bugglestein whilst I write completely pointless crap, just let me know. Halfway through writing this post, Toots McGroots woke up to feed, so I've typed this with one hand while dispensing nourishment to my offspring. I'm a multitasker. I'm also asking forgiveness for typos.
3. Returning emails or phone calls. I love you, and I'm sorry about not returning your email or phone call or text. It's not that I don't want to, it's just that I'm using all my energy to do things that are required for the survival and well being of my progeny. Please forgive me, and please stay on the line until a representative is available. Currently the wait is about 4-5 years.
On the flipside, here are things I somehow find time to do everyday:
1. Vacuum. Not because I want to, and not because the floor is dirty, but because this weird child of mine cannot sleep when it's quiet. The more RC and I tiptoe around him when he's sleeping, the more he wakes up. Turn on the TV, the fan in the bathroom, and then vacuum around his bassinette? Kid's asleep in 12 seconds flat. He's weird, but that's what makes him mine. So, the floor around our bedroom is cleaner than anything in the house. And the fan in the bathroom is about to detonate from overuse. But Declan is sleeping, and that's what matters.
2. Exercise. Not because I want to, but because Declan is not a child who likes to be stationary. If he's awake, he wants to be in motion. So there are daily walks, adventures to the store or Target, and lots of pacing and dancing in the living room (thankfully we have the same taste in music...so far). He gets the need to be on the go from me when I was young. Not now. Now I'm lazy as crap. But I used to like doing stuff and junk. Now I like napping.
3. Cooking. I have to eat well to feed him well, so I cook. Oh how I would love to be lazy and eat junk food and frequent drive-throughs, but when I eat junk Baby Bear suffers. Damn, this selflessness is hard work.
4. Work. I had a 2,000-word article due for Consumers Digest Magazine the week Declan was born. I sent it in 2 days late after being granted an extension from the editor. While I didn't get to proofread my work as closely as I would've liked, the story was complete and more "together" than a lot of articles from freelance writers. I would've rather been in bed recuperating from the emergency C-section, but when you're unemployed you take what you can get and you write articles while popping 600mg ibuprofen and Vicodin, and you have a rag on hand to mop up the drool from the keyboard.
5. Take photos. Baby Bear is photogenic, and I've documented that fact ad nauseam. I'd say it's not my fault he's so cute, but it's half my fault. The weirdest part is when he's asleep I look at photos of him. I may need an intervention.
Okay, my talent to multitask is running short. I can't burp Bugglelodeon while typing, so I hope you all have a fabulous 2012, and I hope that I'll return to the land of the living sometime in the new year.
Congrats to you and Ryan.Good to here things are busy but going good for you guys.
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