So today is the 3 week anniversary of bringing home our little bundle of joy/spit up demon – both are accurate nicknames, it just depends on what mood the boy is in. Every day is an adventure- we have good days where he naps a lot and is a good mood and looks at books and is contented with the world, and then we have tough days where he doesn’t want to sleep and by late afternoon, his arms and legs are like airplanes spinning around and he gets frustrated and agitated that the limbs that are attached to him are out of control and he starts screaming and so it goes. We never know what type of day we’re going to get- I’m sure he doesn’t know what type of day he’s going to have either, it’s an organic unfolding of either bliss or something far from pleasant.
This whole experience of becoming a parent has been very humbling. People always say that new babies are hard and exhausting, and I believed them, just like I believe people when they say that it hurts to break a bone or it sucks to be fired. I’ve never personally experienced either, but it’s not a stretch to imagine that both would be awful and difficult and something I’d like to avoid. It’s not a stretch. But it’s one of those things that until you actually go through it, you can’t understand the extent to which it’s hard, and exhausting. And we have an easy kid and it’s still kicking my ass.
I have always admired and honored parents, and now, now I walk around the streets looking at how many adult people there are and I think ‘you, I don’t know you but you were a pain when you were a tiny baby and someone loved and nursed you through it even though they probably wanted to leave you on a corner with a ‘free’ sign’ but they didn’t. You should be thankful and amazed that you’re here. Now show some respect.’ But in a polite society pushing a baby carriage you can’t just go off on random people. Well I suppose you can but it’s not recommended.
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