Mommy Monday: Is Spit Up The New Black?

I'm baaaack. Did you miss me? ;)

It feels good to step out of the "baby cave" for a minute. To be doing something other than debating the merits of sensitive baby wipes vs. regular baby wipes or trying to figure out how to keep a burp cloth clean for longer than five seconds.

Since giving birth to my daughter thirty days ago, I've come to a very important realization. It doesn't matter how many books you read or bad eighties videos you watch in your birthing class, until you actually become a mother, there is no way you can fully comprehend two words.

Sleep. Deprivation.

Sure, everyone tried to warn me while I was still pregnant. Get your sleep now. While you still can. And of course I didn't listen because I was unnaturally obsessed with things like reorganizing the kitchen and cleaning out heating vents.

And now- a month later- although I'm basically running on fumes from the aforementioned lack of shut eye and all of the following things were written in a varying state of delirium (as this post is now), I've recorded some of my other observations from my first month of motherhood:

Day 1- Water breaks at 10:00 p.m. while watching Top Chef. Think I peed my pants. Ask hubs to help me figure it out (I'll let you fill in the blanks on how we did this). Decide this is okay because if I truly am in labor, he's going to potentially see a lot worse once we are at the hospital.

Day 2- If I could do it all over again, I'd skip the Five Guys Burgers and Fries cheeseburger with jalapenos. No fun to have the burger sitting in my stomach while in labor. Tell this story to everyone and anyone who will listen after I've been given my epidural.

Day 3- Nurses keep coming in and marveling at the fact that I'm not 300 lbs with all the Oxycotin I've been taking for my post c-section pain. Can you say Lisa Limbaugh?

Day 4- Totally, deeply and madly in love with my little girl. She is the best thing I have ever done in my life. Hoping when she's old enough to weigh in on that, she'll agree.

Day 5- We're home. Talking to Matt. He says something about Maria. Who's Maria?, I ask. The nurse who helped us every day at the hospital! he exclaims. Oops. Realizing that I don't remember much of my hospital stay. See Day #3- Oxycotin.

Day 6- Up all night. Haven't done this since pulling an all-nighter in college. But at least that involved lots of coffee and sugar and, er, I was only twenty!

Day 7- Check on the baby for the millionth time to make sure she's breathing. Will I ever stop doing this?

Day 8- Decide I have the most beautiful baby in the world. Me and every other mother.

Day 9- Major accomplishment. Can Facebook and breastfeed at the same time. I feel 1/16 human again.

Day 10- Need to remind myself to stop bragging about how good Baby D is. Every time I do this, she decides to throw the schedule we've been keeping out the window as if to say, Don't forget who runs this show, mommy!

Day 11- Discovered I can hide in the shower- if only for a few fleeting moments. Who knew a three minute hot shower could change my life?

Day 12- Thinking about the woman from Africa who's in the documentary, Babies. She gives birth in a hut without medication and minutes later is breast feeding her baby in one arm and hauling water in the other. Remind myself not to get frustrated that my hospital grade breast pump doesn't work perfectly and/or I can't hear my Real Housewives of Beverly Hills episode over the pumping sound.

Day 13- Decide the hubs and I should have our own middle of the night reality show. We make absolutely no sense when we talk to each other because we are never fully awake. I think we're hilarious but not sure anyone else would laugh. Might be worth taping ourselves to find out.

Day 14- Wake up in the middle of the night and frantically search the bed for my baby. This keeps happening. Baby is always safe and sound in crib. Has never slept in our bed. Not sure where this is coming from.

Day 15- Pediatrician called me Mom. I looked over my shoulder for the mom he was talking to. Guess it's going to take a while for this new title to sink in.

Day 16- Is spit up the new black? I'm beginning to think so as it's my main accessory with every outfit.

Day 17- Lying in a pillow covered in spit up. Too tired to care.

Day 18- Silently cried listening to the baby cry after I put her down for a nap. With tears streaming down my face, I sneaked into her room for the umpteenth time and peered into her crib without letting her see me. Feel like weird baby stalker.

Day 19- My poor mother is on the receiving end of a major sleep deprivation meltdown. After the hubs intervened and forced me to nap, I wake with no memory of the content of the meltdown. Scary.

Day 20- Liz arrives. She becomes my breastfeeding coach- determined to help me stock up on milk supply so I can sleep and someone else can feed the baby. Friendship taken to a whole new level when I attach pumps and pump with abandon right next to her on the living room sofa. Matters more to me to have milk for the hubs to feed baby than Liz seeing my areolas. But I do believe Liz was traumatized. Very traumatized.

Day 21- I was "that wife" today. Called the hubs at work to talk about poop. And formula. And nipples. Had to hang up mid-talk as I rose about my body and realized what I was doing.

Day 22- The baby smiled at me. I don't care what anyone says, she didn't smile because she had gas. She was really smiling!

Day 23- The baby burped a nice, deep, truck driver belch. Am more excited about this than when I was nominated for an Emmy.

Day 25- Baby asleep. Have the house to myself. Drinking coffee (shh...). Watching You're Cut Off marathon (another gift Liz gave me while here- turning me on to such a bad TV show). Feel like I've won the lottery.

Day 26- Another major accomplishment. Played Angry Birds- with my left hand- while feeding the baby!

Day 30- Baby had to get a shot. Decide that if I were to get shot with a double barrel shot gun in the face, it would hurt me less. Welcome to motherhood.


Lisa, a.k.a. "Mom"?!?!

BabyLover by Liz

Today's the day!  I'm jetting off to Chitown to meet Lisa's new bundle of joy.  It's been three long weeks since she arrived and I can't wait to see them both!  Lisa's excited for my arrival, but mostly because I promised to be her bitch for the next four days. Cooking?  I'm her Top Chef! Cleaning? I can do things with a mop you've never seen before! Poopy Diapers?  I handle that shit like no other!

But I have a small confession to make.

I'm not a baby person.

Before you get all Judgey Mcjudgerson on me, it's not that I don't like babies.  I just don't LOVE them the way many of my girlfriends do.  While y'all sit there goo-goo and ga-gaing over the blobs babies, I'm admiring them from a few feet away.  And while you might beg to babysit that screaming gurgling love bug, I'll be the one to help mom escape to have her first glass of wine in ten months. So you see, I'm not a baby hater, more like a baby liker.  That's okay, right?

And the funniest part?  Babies LOVE me.  It's like that whole wanting what you can't have thing starts at a very young age because I've got MAJUH game with the under one set.  They reach for me, fall asleep on me, and are generally really f*cking happy when I'm holding them.

I haven't broke the news to Lisa yet that I'm not going to goo-goo and ga-ga when I get there.  But I would think after 22 years of friendship that she knows I'm going to do my best Auntie work after age 2.  After all, she watched me muddle through the baby stages of both of my children-how can she NOT know?

But in honor of my visit, I thought I might try to become more baby-friendly.  So I've come up with a list of all the reasons why babies are the best.  *speaks into megaphone* Say it with me: BABIES ARE THE BEST! (Did that sound convincing?!!??)


1. A baby won't tell me my new haircut makes me look like Dora the Explorer.  Or yell at me when I'm a few minutes late picking them up.

2. Babies still get excited by and appreciate my boobs.  Even if they just view them as a food source.  Whatevs.  I'll take it.

3. Babies give me an excuse to nap during the day. (But do I still get to do that if it's not my baby?)

4. They can be a conversation starter at Starbucks. Because nothing says talk to me like a baby in a bugaboo.

5. They give me an excuse to carry an extra ten pounds and scare my pregnant friends with delivery room horror stories.  Ripped vaginas! Bad C-sections!  And my personal favorite?  Pooping on the delivery table!

See?  Babies are the BEST!!!

What do you think?  Leave a comment and you'll be entered to win one of TWO copies of The Inadequate Conception: From Barry White to Blastocytes: What your mom didn’t tell you about getting pregnant by Lori Green.  You can also check out her blog here.  I'll choose a winner on Sunday night after 6pm PST.

xo, Liz