2. Not showering until noon. Most days I don't leave the house until 1. It's not because I am sleeping in, or being lazy. It is because whenever I have a moment to myself, this little micro chip in Dylan's brain alerts him and makes him cry, poop, or scream. Seriously. I am a woman (in case you weren't aware) and have long thick hair. I live in Tennessee where currently the weather is 20 degrees. I enjoy a long, hot (I turn the water to scalding, and then complain to Jeff that it is too cold) relaxing shower. It used to take me about 15 minutes in the shower, sometimes longer. Now, I am in and out in less than 5. Why? Because even when Dills (his nickname, trying it out, what do you think?) is in his bouncer 4 feet from me while I am in the shower, he senses that I am enjoying myself, and therefore must get my attention.
3. Not sleeping...ever. I know that some of you think that new moms get sleep. It's a lie. We close our eyes, and attempt to sleep, but we end up thinking about what needs to be done around the house, what we forgot to do that our husband asked us to do 4 weeks ago, how we are going to get it done without him realizing that we are 4 weeks late, what our child is doing in the other room while he is supposed to be sleeping. Then there is the dreaded "If I go to bed now, I will get 2 hours of sleep before Dills wakes up." "If I go to bed right now, I will get 45 minutes of sleep before Dills wakes up." It is an endless, sleepless cycle. In addition to knowing when I need to shower (perhaps it's not a micro chip at all but just an incredible sense of smell) Dills also knows when I need to sleep. And he will fart, fuss, cry, talk, scream, pretty much do anything but let me sleep. The best part? He sleeps while we are out running errands. Oh how I wish I could fall asleep on the bench outside Target. They would probably think that I was a hobo, and arrest me. If only they knew that I am single handedly responsible for the new pool that the manager had put in last summer, they would change their tune. Seriously? What was I talking about? Oh, sleep. We don't sleep. The end.
4. Breast feeding... in public. Seriously people. I have on a hooter hider. I am discreet. My boobs are not showing, I am not trying to make a spectacle of myself. I am feeding my son. GET OVER IT! If one more gross old man tries to get a peek (let's segue for a minute and discuss postpartum breasts...not cute. Not perky. More than likely victim to the pregnancy stretch marks. So why are you trying to peek...oh and one more thing. There's nothing to see, my son's head is blocking it. If you want to see the cutest little boy in the world, then go ahead and take a peek, but otherwise, leave me alone.) I am going to punch him. Which would be a feat on my part because I am holding a child in one hand, and with the other hand punching you in the face, all while never missing a beat. Never underestimate the power of a hormonal, sleep deprived mom.
5. The endless advice. If one more person tells me that their child ate solid foods at 3 months, I am going to scream. I don't care what your child accomplished and at what age. You are old. Your child is old. Are you naive enough to believe that medicine, and child rearing hasn't made any advancements over the past 60 years? It has. Believe it or not, there is a person in my life that has studied, and knows modern medicine, and understands what is best for me and my child. He is called a doctor. He actually has a medical degree. You? You just have an annoying streak that makes me want to scream.... LOUD. So please, no advice. I know what is best for my child. And right now what is best for my child is for me to lie and say that I have somewhere to be. Anywhere that is far from you and your advice. Because you know what? You bug.
6. The laundry. Moms all around the world know what I am talking about. How can one little 10 pound person produce SO MUCH LAUNDRY? I used to do 3 loads a week before Dills came around. Darks, lights, towels and sheets. 3 loads. That's it. Now I have about 47 loads. Lights, darks, towels, sheets, burp cloths, blankets.... the list goes on. And no matter how hard I try to keep up with it. It grows on a hourly basis. The best part? We are going to order cloth diapers next week. You know, the kind you wash, at home. So then we will have lights, darks, towels, sheets, burp cloths, blankets, diapers..... I hate laundry. Laundry hates me. The only thing I hate more than laundry is the fact that everything associated with a child is expensive. See the next point....
7. Everything associated with a child is expensive. I am cheap. Jeff is cheap. It is a marriage made in heaven. Dills is expensive. We love him dearly. But he is expensive. Did you know that it gets cold in Tennessee? You see, I forgot that. So all the clothes that we have for Dills are short pants, and short sleeved shirts. Even though we had our boys almost exactly one year apart, all the clothes that we have are Southern California appropriate, where currently it is 80 degrees. Seriously. 80 degrees in December. So if I were in California right now, my son would be dressed perfectly. But I am not in 80 degree weather. I am in 20 degree weather. It is currently snowing. The schools are closed and most of my friends didn't have to go to work today because if it snows even a little bit, the city freaks out. But hey, no one complains because a snow day is a snow day. So I have to buy clothes for little man. Warm clothes. Apparently because there is twice as much fabric as the summer clothes, it means that they are 4 times as expensive. Go figure. So instead of buying a ton of clothes, I do a ton of laundry. Because little man has about 5 warm outfits. Did I mention that I hate laundry? If you forgot, see number 6 above.
8. The endless advice #2. Don't judge me when I tell you that my child doesn't sleep through the night. You asked me. You obviously wanted to know the answer. The answer is that sometimes he sleeps well, and sometimes he wakes up every 2 hours. This doesn't make me a bad mother. I am not comfortable letting a 2 month old scream his head off. If he cries, I hold him, feed him and do anything I can to make him stop crying. My child is happy. He knows that when he cries because he is hungry, wet, cold, hot, cranky, gassy, fussy, or just plain lonely, Mom will be there. He is secure. I know that moms that let their child cry it out are not bad mothers. Just like moms that pick up their child when they cry are not bad. Don't judge me. There are a million ways to raise a child. And the best way to raise a child is without your advice. The best way to raise a child is with mother's intuition. And you know what my intuition is telling me? That your advice is lame. Go away.
9. Oh how cute, a baby! Yep, a baby. You know, because we never see any of those around. Please don't touch my child. I don't know you. For all I know, you could have scratched your butt, and then touched my child's hands. I don't want to be rude, but when you look like you haven't showered in 3 months and then reach those nasty hands, with those dirty fingernails that a) haven't been cleaned in a year and b) haven't been cut in a year, you leave me no choice. I am going to be rude. I may even smack your hand away. Please know that I will smack hard. And then I will use my industrial strength hand sanitizer to clean my hands from your butt scratching germs. Don't touch my child. Feel free to tell me how cute he is (because, duh, he totally is) but please do this within a safe distance. Then go home and clean your fingernails. The end.