He's rethinking the whole being born thing.
So after all of that hand-wringing about vaginal prolapse and hemorrhoids and surreptitious pregnancy farting, I finally had my baby! And so far neither my butt* nor my ladyparts have fallen out of place.
*Unless you count my butt cheeks, which are now the consistency of room-temperature flan and seem to be making a mad dash for my ankles. But at least I didn’t poop during labor.
The birth itself was not as traumatic as I had feared. I had a quick labor with no drugs, and while I won’t soon be forgetting the sensation of having a human head emerge from a soft and sensitive place that I once used solely for recreational purposes, the real challenge has been the part that comes after the goopy, confusing experience which Mark Summers might call the Physical Challenge. Yes, parenthood is fucking hard. Who knew? In just a few short weeks I am sure I have already caused my son considerable psychiatric damage. To wit:
- On his first day of life, distracted by scrubbing off the tar-like substance emerging from his anus, allowed my helpless newborn son to piss on his own face.
- While sleep deprived, paired a fey turtle layette with an oversize black hat that made him look like a gay Amish munchkin.
- Cackle openly every time he sneezes, or poops. (Ongoing, uncontrollable.)
- Sobbed loudly while nursing on a painfully engorged breast while biting down on wooden spoon and watching season finale on Breaking Bad. (Extra credit: husband took photos.)
- In lieu of bedtime story, read aloud from shitty Elle profile of Jennifer Aniston.
- Distracted by Keeping Up With the Kardashians, attempted to insert my nipple into first his eye and then his nostril.
- On list of rotating pet names: Shitty Balls.
The good news is that now that I’m a parent I totally understand why my dad was so willing to pay for my therapy after college. After all, if you broke it, you bought it, right?
About Una LaMarche
HILARIOUS! You should order some of these for your little guy during changing time – they’re called pee pee teepees – no more pee in anyone’s face! ;)
http://www.amazon.com/Peepee-Teepee-Sprinkling-WeeWee-Airplanes/dp/B000EBQ8DI
OMG, I have those! I finally got some after the face-peeing incident. I ordered ones with weiner dogs on them, which my husband does not find funny for some reason.
Twitter Name: sassycurmudgeon
As a fellow boy mom, I find your list hilarious … mostly because it so closely mirrors ours from the first month or two of parenthood.
Thanks, Misty, I’m SO glad it’s not just me.
Twitter Name: sassycurmudgeon
You sound like a perfect mom in the making. Laughing at or with your child is the most underrated parenting tool around. While I’m not sure I love “Shitty Balls”, you are sleep deprived and dressing him like a gay Amish munchkin counteracts that quite well.
Carry on, Mama Curmudgeon, you are doing great!
Twitter Name: Fargs77
Aw, thank you. And “Shitty Balls” is mainly a joke between me and my husband. We won’t let it make it into his high school yearbook :)
Twitter Name: sassycurmudgeon
Awesome! and congrats! I call my 5-month old son booger or sugar tits. For no real reason. We also watched the entire Wire series during his first two weeks. I’m pretty confident he’s going to sound like Omar when he starts talking.
I have yet to watch The Wire, but I do have it on my list of Probably Inappropriate Shows to Watch While Nursing. I’ve already done Dexter and Breaking Bad…
Twitter Name: sassycurmudgeon
Congratulations! And that tar-like substance will go away eventually. Only to reappear when he starts eating tar-like foods.
Oh, it’s gone. Now it’s that lovely neon mustard hue. But I hear it only gets worse…
Twitter Name: sassycurmudgeon
Being a parent is fucking hard. Especially when the baby lays there to just shit, eat and cry. You don’t get quality feedback for a couple of months. Until then, they only let you know when you are causing damage. The other shitty thing is there is no quality literature out there for dads. In my search to put my experience in context I tried finding baby books for dads. The baby help books for dads are written to appeal to an 8th grade reading level and make it sound like a plus if you don’t run screaming from a dirty diaper. If your husband has anything for first time dads feel free to let me know. My daughter is 15 months and I still feel like some sort of foreign invader when I pick up or drop off at daycare. Women shield their children like I’m about to rape and pillage.
Word, sister. Preach. The kid is just starting to smile, but for now he only smiles at the lamp and the wall. Me, he could take or leave. And yes, I bought my husband two new dad books, both of which he flipped through and then discarded. Not all men are neanderthals who only understand football metaphors.
Twitter Name: sassycurmudgeon
Ahh. This takes me straight back to my first days with my son, Poopyjunk. It’s magical.
Twitter Name: julieinthelou
Poopyjunk! I love it! We’re baby genital feces nickname twins.
Twitter Name: sassycurmudgeon
Ha, as a fellow new mum myself (7 days now), I can relate to all of the above, although I have a girl this time around which is much easier when coming to scraping industrial tar off backsides than trying to chisel it off a pair of newly aired testicles.
Hope you’re healing nicely. x
Twitter Name: vbincatalunya