I am currently having one of those incredibly rare moments when there is nothing pressing for me to do - the baby is asleep (finally - and only because my wonderful mother is holding him), the laundry is only at a small hill- not the usual mountainous level, and I have dinner marinating in the fridge (wow, you think, she is truly amazing - but its pre-made kabobs that I threw some Italian dressing on. Don't be too jealous)
I thought to myself I should go in there and order baby announcements. But then I figured that the kid is half grown now, and if you don't already know he is here, then I can't be too worried about you. Better luck at Christmas maybe - or perhaps you will get a graduation or wedding invitation. If you want to look at him, come for a visit, or even better just check on Facebook. Its the 2011 version of a birth announcement, and I try to announce like three times a week.
Then I thought, maybe I should finally write in his baby book and put some pictures in there so he will know that we did document some parts of his life. But then I thought, geez, that sounds miserable. So here I am, in front of the ol' blog because this is way more fun to update. And because it has been over a month since my last update, I thought I would give you a quick rundown of our greatest milestones and my gravest realizations....
1. I can't stop buying clothes. When you haven't owned a pair of pants with a zipper and can finally shop in the "normal" people clothes, it is like that ah-ha moment, that moment where you realize that you are not the one person in the world who will stay pregnant forever, who's stomach will forever pouch out like maybe they missed a kid in there during the delivery, and perhaps I can return to a completely normal existence even after my body was ravaged by a nine month long D-Day style attack.
2. Despite the fact that I am again wearing normal people clothing, I have also come to realize that some things will never be the same. Most depressing is that even though I am *almost* back to my pre-pregnancy weight, I have the battle scars that will never disappear. For instance, I caught a glimpse of myself bending over the other day and realized that my boobs almost touch my belly button. Seriously, they look like two gym socks with bowling balls dropped into them. I went to look for a post-pregnancy bra, something with like an anti-gravitational pull mechanism but the only thing I found was a padded bra which just flopped the old girls into this weird, cupcake looking configuration and then they plopped out of the bra, laughed at my effort, and hung down to my belly button again. (Okay, maybe they didn't laugh, but I felt then at least smirking at me for trying to make them the youthful ta-tas of yester-year)
3. I start work on Thursday. This means I have successfully survived maternity leave and actually had a wonderful time. I mean, I begged the dear husband to let me stay home and he could just take a second job to make up the difference. But that was about four weeks ago. And now, I am ready. I cried for days thinking about taking Wyatt to daycare. But when the day came for our first "practice drop off" I was freaking giddy that these people's only job was to take care of my child and I had to leave and go do something that did not involve changing diapers, washing burp cloths, cleaning out bottles, or singing the only lullaby I know for the seven millionth time. As I drove away waiting for the tears to come, (they never did) I thought am I bad mother for not being devastated? I didn't come up with an answer, but really quit looking for one when I went into Target and realized I fit into a pair of jeans that had a zipper and button (see #1) and then realized that Ross Dress for Less carried BCBG and Nine West shoes. Horrible I know, but what can you do?
4. And finally, I realized a few weeks ago, that I was done looking for answers. I mean I will admit I still google things like "how much should my baby be eating" and "my baby hasn't pooped in three days" etc and etc on a regular basis but I have quit trying to subscribe to one school of thought or the other on raising children. I read the Baby Wise book when I was pregnant, then I read all the La Leche League stuff they gave me when I had him (which are in direct conflict with one another by the way) and I was really struggling with wondering if I am doing something that is going to royally screw him up forever (holding him too much, not him holding enough, making him sleep through the night without a bottle, not letting him cry himself to sleep, letting him swing in the swing for hours on end, I could go on and on). And then one day, I realized that I don't remember anything before I was like five years old in my own life and although I know I have a child genius on my hands, I am pretty sure he isn't going to remember the first year or two of his life. So anything I do for the next year or so - as long as we are both happy most of the time - I am just going to do whatever works that day. And if that means holding and cuddling, and giving him a pacifier, and letting him swing all night, or have a bottle after only three hours instead of four, then really who cares? The chances are that if he is some kind of crazed psychopath in twenty or thirty years, it will have nothing to do with the fact that I didn't let him "cry it out" for the requisite twenty minutes when he was eight weeks old.
And now I think I will go play on Facebook for a minute, because I am just too lazy to scrapbook.