I think I’m having an identity crisis. And I’ve lost my bed. And my hands. I haven’t washed my hair in five days. Ew, right? Don’t worry, I spot wash the places that matter daily.
TMI? No such thing in Mommy Land, population me (and millions of other women, but they all put forth an image so put together that I’d rather pretend they don’t exist because it makes me feel better). We (and by we I mean me and my mom because she is allowed to visit Mommy Land) talk about all kinds of fun stuff like boobs and poop. But mostly poop. The other day I texted my mom a pic of a dirty diaper because I needed her to verify that I hadn’t slipped into an exhaustion induced coma and J, in desperation due to his lack of boobage and milk, had put the baby out to pasture in my absence… H’s poop definitely looked like he’d been eating some grass and smelled like a frequently used and never emptied outhouse. TMI? I told you already… NO SUCH THING.
I thought I was doing ok but a visit to the doctor has proven me wrong. Le bébé is not gaining enough weight! He’s gone from the 95th percentile to somewhere between the 25th and 50th. aoughreiughslaeiuwgruihstaew. That was me hitting the keyboard with my forehead. Ok, not really because I’m lying awkwardly, belly down on my bed and the keyboard is too far away to reach with my head. My hands had to help my head out. I have hands after all! But only when the baby is asleep.
Did I say bed? I meant floor. Because that is where I sleep. H is going through a phase where I can’t put him down if he falls asleep in my arms because he’ll immediately awaken. But if he falls asleep on the bed I can get anywhere from 5-8 consecutive hours of sleep out of him! Ah-mazing. So he, this tiny two ft tall baby, sleeps in the very centre of my queen sized bed, and I sleep on the floor. If I dare to sleep in the bed with him I’m too paranoid about him rolling off the edge (which is why I put him smack dab in the middle to sleep) and he wakes up every time I roll over. My neck hurts.
I’m enjoying having my hands right now, even though I should be sleeping and they’re no use to me while I’m sleeping. How has this baby not gained enough weight? It seems like all he does is eat! Doc explained to me that because he just eats a little bit and then uses my boobs to soothe himself he’s not stimulating my milk production enough. Turns out he’s a grazer. More like a goat than a pig.
Who would have thought with that massive belly of mine? Maybe that explains the grass poop… Le sigh. So now my task is to stretch the feeding out for at least 2 hours between feeds and use the pacifier when he wants to soothe in between.
OMG. I might have just got my hands back for real. That’s kind of exciting.
POOP. Mommyhood is steeped in it.
But then he makes adorable faces like this:
And it’s not so poopy anymore… even if it is, literally, kinda.