My days now consist of feeding, changing diapers, washing clothes, picking up house, feeding, changing diapers and washing clothes. In between we play. We do tummy time, read books, sing songs, play patty cake, splish splash in the bath and play peek-a-boo. Well, I play at these things at least and hope that I am instilling some sort of education within the baby. It’s amazing what you can make a song out of. This is mommy washing the dishes, scrubbing off all the leftovers from last night. Here is mommy picking up dog poo from the deck. What a huge poo! All of these songs can be done to different tunes. Row row your boat or the first noel if the season calls for it,
Once baby arrives its hard to get anything fully done. Sometimes even getting dressed needs to be halted in order to bounce a chair or hold a pacifier in. One leg in pants or one boob hanging out of nursing bra contraption – you wonder what would happen if someone broke in suddenly. They surely wouldn’t rape you in that state but more likely shoot you dead in order to put you out of your apparent misery. Nobody every said having children was glamorous right?
I have become master of sneaking out of rooms because even the slightest pad of socked feet on a rug can wake her. Yet when we took an airplane for the first time back to see my folks at Christmas – the landing of a 747 didn’t wake her. How is that possible? I think it all has to do with some pact that babies make with themselves while still in the womb. The vow to baffle their parents with shit like that – to make them feel insane and questioning laws of things that make sense.
There’s a lot that doesn’t make sense once you have a baby. But then there is a lot that starts to make sense as well. Getting back to that premiere with my husband, I, for really the first time in my life, understood what was important in life. As someone who dreamed of being an academy award winning actress for my entire life, I no longer feel this sense of longing when I watch movies or awards shows or when I go to premieres (which isn’t often). There is a different kind of longing that has replaced that feeling and it is a longing for my daughter – to see her face, to see her smile and hear her coo, to touch her warm skin and to gaze into her eyes. It all sounds like mush as I write it (and I am writing with one foot rocking the car seat she has fallen asleep in – one edge of her little hat covering her left eye). I am perfectly aware that this kind of talk is exactly the type that alienates people – people who don’t have kids or people who perhaps haven’t been able to bond with their babies immediately and that does happen. Bonding with my daughter didn’t happen the second she came out of me. In fact I was more taken aback by the cone-shaped head with a pretty nasty red bruise atop it, the slimy pale body, and the yearning mouth that was already searching for its nipple. I would say that love at first sight it was not – but more of a curiosity and huge sense of responsibility at first sight. I didn’t immediately forget the pain I had been through for 28 hours – but that rather has come later as now – 3 and a half months later I struggle to remember not just the details but also the major moments of those 28 hours. Perhaps it’s some form of PTSD or perhaps more simply mother nature’s way of making sure that I do it again. Which I think I will.
Once baby arrives its hard to get anything fully done. Sometimes even getting dressed needs to be halted in order to bounce a chair or hold a pacifier in. One leg in pants or one boob hanging out of nursing bra contraption – you wonder what would happen if someone broke in suddenly. They surely wouldn’t rape you in that state but more likely shoot you dead in order to put you out of your apparent misery. Nobody every said having children was glamorous right?
I have become master of sneaking out of rooms because even the slightest pad of socked feet on a rug can wake her. Yet when we took an airplane for the first time back to see my folks at Christmas – the landing of a 747 didn’t wake her. How is that possible? I think it all has to do with some pact that babies make with themselves while still in the womb. The vow to baffle their parents with shit like that – to make them feel insane and questioning laws of things that make sense.
There’s a lot that doesn’t make sense once you have a baby. But then there is a lot that starts to make sense as well. Getting back to that premiere with my husband, I, for really the first time in my life, understood what was important in life. As someone who dreamed of being an academy award winning actress for my entire life, I no longer feel this sense of longing when I watch movies or awards shows or when I go to premieres (which isn’t often). There is a different kind of longing that has replaced that feeling and it is a longing for my daughter – to see her face, to see her smile and hear her coo, to touch her warm skin and to gaze into her eyes. It all sounds like mush as I write it (and I am writing with one foot rocking the car seat she has fallen asleep in – one edge of her little hat covering her left eye). I am perfectly aware that this kind of talk is exactly the type that alienates people – people who don’t have kids or people who perhaps haven’t been able to bond with their babies immediately and that does happen. Bonding with my daughter didn’t happen the second she came out of me. In fact I was more taken aback by the cone-shaped head with a pretty nasty red bruise atop it, the slimy pale body, and the yearning mouth that was already searching for its nipple. I would say that love at first sight it was not – but more of a curiosity and huge sense of responsibility at first sight. I didn’t immediately forget the pain I had been through for 28 hours – but that rather has come later as now – 3 and a half months later I struggle to remember not just the details but also the major moments of those 28 hours. Perhaps it’s some form of PTSD or perhaps more simply mother nature’s way of making sure that I do it again. Which I think I will.
