A new emotion

Let me introduce you to my new, least favourite, emotion:

[drum roll] da da da daaah!

RESENTMENT n. Indignation or ill will felt as a result of a real or imagined grievance.

Not such a common emotion in my repertoire - until having a baby.  It's one of those ones that creeps up on you, and you find yourself cursing into your decaf (yes furking decaf) about almost any little thing that just happens to set you off.

You resent having to get up AGAIN in the night.  You resent the fact that weekends now closely resemble weekdays, complete with 5.30am starts.  You resent your body for having betrayed you into thinking that you really, really wanted one of these crying, pooping, hungry things (WTF were we thinking?).  You resent the fact that you're stuck at home while the DH gets to go to work, and the DH resents the fact that you get to lounge around at home (haha) while he has to work.  You resent it if the DH gets home late from work, or wants to go out in the evening.  You resent the fact that you're the ONLY one (at the moment) who can satisfy this baby's needs (if he would just god damn well eat something it wouldn't be such a problem).  You resent the fact that you can't take hour-long showers like you used to, or if you spend longer than 5 minutes with the bathroom door shut Milkbaby screams like he's being abducted by aliens (if only!).

Then you get The Guilt for resenting the defenceless little bugger (he's just a baby after all).  Don't get me wrong, it's not all hell in a moses basket.  But if I could just have a 20 minute shower without interruption I would be eternally grateful.

If I can't party, no one can

A conversation had last Friday:

Me: "I'm thinking about going to a movie tonight - is that ok? (A reasonable request, I hear you say)
DH: "Sure, that's a great idea. (You're thinking, what a great guy)
Me: "Are you sure it's ok?  You'll be alright at home with the baby? (Why didn't the conversation end with "sure, that's a great idea"? What's with this woman, is she paranoid or what?)
DH: "Of course it's ok.  Why wouldn't it be? (He's so reasonable!)
Me: "Well, I don't like it when you go out. (Now she's starting to sound a little unbalanced)
DH: "Yes well that's because you don't like other people having fun. (He's hit the nail on the head there)

Too true.  I hate the thought of the DH going out and having fun.  Without me.  I say terrible things like "You're leaving me stuck at home with the baby?"  Which, technically, is what I've been all day, but somehow it seems different at night, when the DH has a choice of whereabouts.  "But what will I dooooo?" I whine.  "Get some sleep?" the DH says.  Ok, point taken, I'm not much of a conversationalist these days.  Full sentences are a bit of a struggle when you've been getting up at 5am for the last 3 weeks.

Anyway.  I went out to a great movie, laughed, cried and got home feeling refreshed.  And the best part?  The baby didn't even wake up!

Puppetry of the infant penis

If you ever wondered the point at which men become obsessed with their penises, I would venture to answer: IN UTERO.  I am casting my mind back to the early tiny-baby days and I cannot really remember a time when Milkbaby's little hands did not wander to investigate his junk.

A common nappy-change-time conversation in our house:

"Ok let's just change your nappy.  Let me just get it undone...  No, get your hands out of there!  Look why don't you hold onto this? [hand over random item]
Okay, let's just get you cleaned up.  Hey, what's happened to your toy?  No, oh gosh, you really shouldn't do that to yourself.  Hey hey hey, really, I don't think it's meant to stretch like that.  Ouch, that's gotta hurt.  Just hang on, let me find you something else to play with.
Let me just finish this and put a new nappy on.  No, hands off that now.  There.  All done."

Or if DH is participating in the nappy change:

"Dude, that's really not a good idea.  Jebus buddy.  Ouch.  No really, don't do that!  Buddy, it's not a good idea to pull on it like that.  You might need it in future!"

Last night in the bath, in an effort to get a better look at things over his portly tummy, Milkbaby toppled over backwards, landing with a splash and giving himself a fright.  It didn't discourage him.

I know from conversations with other mums that Milkbaby is not alone in his obsession.

Yes we really do talk about these things.  And if we didn't have each other to talk to, I suspect we'd be posting questions on public forums like "My baby grabs his penis every nappy change.  Is this normal?".  Yes honey, it's totally normal.  Just spend five minutes people watching and you'll see grown men doing the same thing.  Or if you're really worried, just check out this article.  It will prepare you for the toddler and teenage years.  And you'll be pleasantly surprised to find out that this behaviour is not contagious.

An ode to my favourite chair

A little ode to my favourite chair

found

in the corner of

the junk store

the rocker now nestles

in the corner of

the yellow room

back and forth

forth and back

we feed and rock

rock and feed

feed and chat

colours that match

fabric to scratch

knobs to gnaw

rock me to sleep

close the door

shhhh

Goodbye Miss Lily White

The star of My Cat Likes to Hide in Boxes, Miss Lily White, passed away peacefully on Monday evening, after a short battle with an unknown illness.  

Lily was a Lower Hutt foundling, rescued from a woman with pleurisy and a five o'clock shadow.  (Seriously. Pleurisy!  I thought it was some 1950s disease that no one got any more, since we now all have plenty of gumboots.)

Most likely to be found curled up in front of the fire (or in a box if you've left one lying around), Lily also loved to sit on your lap.  Every night of Milkbaby's gestation she slept next to me on the bed, curled somehow around my growing belly.

I thought we might have to play recordings of a cat purring to get Milkbaby to sleep after he was born.

Milkbaby was present at her death, and was completely oblivious to the emotion and high drama.  He shook my keys and pointed wildly at random things in the room, saying dah, did, doh, doh.  It was only fair, I said afterwards, since she was completely oblivious to the emotion and high drama at his birth.

Lily, relaxing in front of the fire at Milkbaby's birth

Well known for her unique appearance, Lily never let her short ears, skinny legs and bald stomach get her down.

Milkbaby: WTF?

Her gentle, quiet nature will be missed around here.

Goodbye Miss Lily White.

Feeding time at the Carnival

When he's not garrotting himself with the bib, or hurling things over the side of the chair, it struck me last week that getting food into Milkbaby's mouth is like getting a ping-pong ball into the mouth of a Carnival Clown.  Pretty much impossible.  And messy.

Photo by Pixelfish74

It's the same with vomiting.  This is a regular occurrence in our house.  So regular I'm considering buying shares in The Rug Doctor.  Holding an about-to-vomit baby is like holding one of those clowns.  The head swivels back and forth, and you pivot wildly around the sink, hoping not to catch a chest-full of sick.  Also pretty much impossible to get right.  

And the prize for getting your aim spot on?  Another soft toy?  A giant one?  Pretty pleeeaase?????

Motherhood lesson #2

How to pee in a public toilet while wearing your baby in a backpack.

So you've just got the damn pack on your back and suddenly you need to pee.

Step 1: Wedge yourself and your baby into a toilet cubicle, taking care to lock the door behind you.  No one needs to see you do this.

Step 2: Attempt to sit on the throne in the normal fashion.  You can't can you?  Because the baby-filled backpack is jammed up against the wall behind you, and your tush is not sitting where it should be.

Step 3: Think for a minute.  Employ your once amazing problem solving skills (they were amazing until you went for about 256 nights without decent sleep).

Step 4: Turn around and sit on the throne backwards.  Straddle it, in other words.  Hey, it actually makes no difference.  Though in case you're wondering, there are actually wrong ways to use a toilet:

"Flowchart" in Massey University bathrooms

Step 5: Congratulate yourself on having conquered another perennial motherhood dilemma, without having taken the wretched backpack or baby off your back.

Step 6: Give a smug smile to the people giving you strange looks as you come out of the bathroom.  Bet they couldn't work it out!