Sleep.
June 30, 2008
After a baby, sleep is a thing of the past.
I watch my child fighting sleep and think to myself, “I would give someone a million dollars to be in your shoes right now…cradled in my mother’s arms with a warm bottle of milk and a soft cuddly blanket.” Who wouldn’t want to trade places with a baby?
Hell, I am so sleep-deprived these days, I often look at my two dogs and think the same thing. Lazy mutts. When will it be my turn to lay in the sunshine all day, waking only to get up and switch positions?
Life is funny that way. My 10-month-old takes two to three naps a day, but only exerts a small amount of energy crawling around from one toy to the next. He doesn’t do much for himself these days…we feed him, change his diaper, dress him, carry him, play with him, and so on. The kid should be bouncing off the walls with all of the sleep he is getting.
An adult on the other hand (like me, for example), is waking at 6:30am, getting milk for her kid, feeding her dogs, possibly folding a load of laundry in between those two things, dragging her ass to Boot Camp, then rushing home, showering, making the bed, getting dressed, wolfing down some breakfast, possibly Swiffering the kitchen floor in between those two things, driving to work, working for seven to eight hours, racing to pick up her kid, grocery shopping, bolting home, feeding her kid, shoveling dinner down her throat, possibly emptying the dishwasher in between those two things, checking email, and finally going to bed…only to be woken at 4am by a cranky baby, a snoring husband, or a spoiled mutt.
If anyone needs a nap, it is me. I could actually use more than one nap a day. I would be so much more productive. So much happier. So much healthier. So much sexier. So much more attentive to my poor husband who usually only gets to see the “I am so tired” me in the morning and the “I am exhausted” me before we go to bed.
I think someone should invent Daycare for adults. A place where adults could gather to get work done, carry on meetings, check email, answer cell phones, play with Lincoln Logs, and so on. At certain intervals of the day, however (preferably 10:30am and 3pm), everyone would grab a blanket and take a quick little nap. Snack time would be optional, but nap time would be mandatory.
No more caffeine-hyped-up employees. Just well-rested productive citizens ready to take on the world.
A little nap goes a long way.
Photo.
May 5, 2008
I normally would not do this, but got swept up in the moment. I entered my child in a photo contest. What was I thinking? Next thing you know, I’ll be bashing some woman’s knees in to make sure my kid makes the football team.
There’s no telling how much spam I will get, now that my entry has been submitted. Yes, I am a sucker.
So, if you’re feeling at all sucker-ish today, please click here and vote for my child. He’s the cute one with the dimples!
Scissors.
April 24, 2008
Think about all of the things scissors can do for you. They can cut a chicken breast into strips for a stir-fry; they can cut the bangs hanging in your eyeballs; they can cut that coupon for 40 extra rolls of toilet paper; and they can cut tags out of jeans, so that your husband never knows what size you really wear. Last weekend, scissors saved my life. My mom was here helping me get ready for my son’s baptism. She was pressing his outfit for the next day and noticed that the fabric was somewhat see-through. So, like any good mom would, she asked me if he would be wearing some sort of undergarment to hide his baby boobs and belly button. “Of course,” I responded, “I’m just going to put him in a white onesie.” Well, the next morning, I started digging through the dresser for that very onesie, and to my horror, discovered I only had onesies with long sleeves. Sure, there were plenty in there with short sleeves, but they all had “stuff” on the front. I actually considered one with the saying, “My mom is hot” scribed across the chest. Ha, the congregation would have gotten a kick out of that. Anyway, a trip to Babies “R” Us was completely out of the question, so I did the next best thing…I grabbed a pair of scissors and cut off the sleeves. Two quick snips, and I instantly turned his outfit into “a little bit country, a little bit rock-and-roll.” Hail to the scissors!
Baptism.
April 22, 2008
My son was baptized on Sunday. He’s a very happy baby, so I was pretty confident he would be fine with the water, and the minister, and the congregation, and so on. We met with the minister beforehand and he told us that no matter what the baby did that day, there would be no negative spin about his behavior. If he was calm and quiet, people would say, “What a sweet baby.” If he squirmed and whined, people would say, “What a personality.” If he bawled his eyes out, people would say, “What energy he has.” No matter what happened, all would be good. And it was. He stared out at the congregation while his dad carried him and I held his hand. He looked so handsome in his little outfit (that quite possibly was cutting off the circulation in his chubby legs). When the minister anointed him with water, he just sat there as calm as a cucumber. As a matter of fact, he stared so intently at the minister (almost like he was totally getting what he was saying) that a wave of laughter rolled through the congregation. It truly was the perfect day.
Spit-up.
April 9, 2008
I had a moment today. A moment of inspiration. Much like the moment Ben Franklin had when he decided to fly a kite in a lightening storm. It happened in the Kroger parking lot. I stepped out of my car and walked around to the other side to retrieve my child. I lifted him out of his car seat and started walking towards the store. Within seconds, a familiar friend decided to join us…spit-up. Not down the front of his bib where it should have fallen, but all over the front of my shirt instead. And, at that exact moment, I realized, “Kids don’t need to be wearing bibs, moms do.” Stay tuned. My “mibs” (short for mom bibs) will be hitting stores soon.
BabiesRUs.
April 3, 2008
For those of you who are parents, I imagine you’ve taken at least one trip to BabiesRUs. And maybe you non-parents have been to buy a baby shower gift or two. If you haven’t been at all, consider yourselves lucky. The place is like nothing I’ve ever seen before–a cross between Chuck E. Cheese and Walmart. Unruly kids, unrulier parents, and so many aisles of baby crap, your head just spins around backwards when you enter the place. I have actually seen women go to blows in the place over the sale rack. Each with a vice grip on the last onesie on the rack, practically pulling it apart at the seams. And then there are those “deer in the headlights” moms-to-be, who clearly forgot to bring their seasoned friend with them. Instead they’re with their glazed over husbands who are trying to figure out how to squeeze themselves into the nearest playpen for a nap. I knew my life had changed forever when the BabiesRUs became my new haunt. No more Saturday mornings in bed until noon. Now, you’ll find me pacing the aisles in search of diapers and formula…and that last onesie on the rack.
Tooth.
March 31, 2008
I spied a tooth in my child’s mouth today, which is a huge deal since he’s only seven months. His first tooth. A lower incisor, to be exact. And so, begins the process known as teething…otherwise known as “cranky pants” in our house. This will apparently continue until he’s close to three years old, at which point, all of his baby teeth should be there. Then, at the age of seven, the process starts all over again for the permanent teeth to move in. According to friends, this is when the Tooth Fairy shows up, collecting the teeth and leaving a little treat behind. It used to be a quarter when I was young, but kids today have the Tooth Fairy whipped. She’s leaving the likes of $5 for a small incisor and upwards of $10 for a molar. What does she do with all of those teeth? Sell them on the black market? I need in with the Tooth Fairy…maybe she’s hiring.
