At Christmas I received (mostly Tyler received) a number of thoughtful gifts from friends, family and even friends of family. And now, every day since I have thought, I MUST write a thank you note. But seriously, TODAY, I MUST write a thank you note. Although, just between you and me, I do not think new parents should be obligated to write thank you notes. Hello, I'm busy trying to figure out if the bump on my son's leg is normal (it is), googling how to get him to sleep through the night (didn't work), and wondering why I put a nursing pad in the refrigerator (still unsure). I will get to your thank you letter, but in the meantime please take this as my humble apology. Your gift was received and appreciated and a note is forthcoming...hopefully.
Parenthood is all about survival. I have survived so far, but it isn't exactly how I pictured. As a woman without children, I had all these plans and ideas. Then, he came and I have slowly but surely punted every single one of them out the window. He'll sleep in his own room from birth. HA!! HAHAHA! I won't let him watch TV until he's 2, please this is the only way I can distract him long enough to feed him.
As a parent, you do what you need to do to survive. If that means taking him to daycare for a few hours even though you are off work so you can finally take a shower that is rushed, brush your hair without holding a baby, and finally, FINALLY picking up the hard candy stuck to the floor under the couch - you do it. And you do it proudly. So, for all those moms out there that have let their babies keep a pacifier for a bit past what is recommended, or introduced solids a bit earlier than what is recommended, or let your babies snuggle up in bed with you - do it proudly. You survived another day of the hardest, most rewarding job you'll never earned a dime doing.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Will I ever sleep again?
I'm afraid that the answer to this is no, so let's pretend this is a rhetorical question.
Poor Tyler caught his first cold (daycare super germ) so he's been having a really hard time at night. It hurts me to hear him wheezing and coughing at night, so much that I start thinking the answer to all my problems is to invent something to give to babies to help cure the common cold. I'll be rich then, so I can afford the bubble that I'd like to put my baby in for the rest of his life. Don't worry, there will be a door so I can be in there too. :) But then I realize that he'll have no friends, no one likes bubble boy.
2:45 am = crazy thoughts
To all the moms out there that have cuddled their sick baby all night long, drug themselves out of the awkward position they've contorted their body into to provide the baby with maximum comfort, then gone to work to produce something that looks like you didn't spend the night shushing your sick child and dreaming of running a med lab (with your social work degree), you are my h e r o. And more importantly, you are your baby's hero. Make no mistake about it, you deserve a cape and a mask.
Poor Tyler caught his first cold (daycare super germ) so he's been having a really hard time at night. It hurts me to hear him wheezing and coughing at night, so much that I start thinking the answer to all my problems is to invent something to give to babies to help cure the common cold. I'll be rich then, so I can afford the bubble that I'd like to put my baby in for the rest of his life. Don't worry, there will be a door so I can be in there too. :) But then I realize that he'll have no friends, no one likes bubble boy.
2:45 am = crazy thoughts
To all the moms out there that have cuddled their sick baby all night long, drug themselves out of the awkward position they've contorted their body into to provide the baby with maximum comfort, then gone to work to produce something that looks like you didn't spend the night shushing your sick child and dreaming of running a med lab (with your social work degree), you are my h e r o. And more importantly, you are your baby's hero. Make no mistake about it, you deserve a cape and a mask.
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