People, life is good. It is so fucking good. So, no matter what I say here, just know, we are living a dream. A serious dream. And even if D kept us up all night, we will tell not a soul. He is perfect. That's our story. We're sticking to it. Life is nothing without him.
That being said, life is different with him. Hello understatement. Here's a little sampling of our daily routine (all times are approximate):
around 5 am - the baby stirreth. Food is called for. We comply.
6:30 am - baby and me pass out right about the time M gets up for work, gets ready, sits on couch wanting to cry because that's how much he doesn't want to leave us. If we can muster it, we get up and chill with dad for a little bit. Watch TV. Drink OJ.
7:30 am - M leaves. We are left to our own devices. When I'm lucky, D passes back out for a bit more. As do I. If I'm not, we hang out. We dance. We work through the grunts and cries. A few rounds of The Gas Dance* usually does the trick. On mornings where sleep isn't happening, I've found a pretty sweet spot on Comedy Central from 9-11 am: Daily Show>Colbert>Always Sunny>South Park. That works.
9 am - 5 pm - eating, sleeping, pooping, waking, crying (not really a cry, more like a yelp. its pretty adorable...for a while). Lather, rinse, repeat. Every day there is that inevitable moment: "Holy shit. How is it noon already?"
5 pm - Daddy's home! The evening begins. We may start dinner, or entertain visitors, or better yet, visitors bringing dinner. Getting the mail these days is also a treat. (Seeing all of these beautiful cards and boxes of treats for D makes me so grateful there are so many people celebrating his arrival. but also makes me wince at how sucky M and me have been as friends and family members these last several years. Completely checked out as far as most life events. Sigh. Sorry.) On lovely days, we go for a walk along the river together, either in the snap-n-go stroller or the wrap.
Here's my favorite part:
stranger: OMG, what an awesome baby! How old is he?
us: almost 4 weeks old.
stranger (eying me up): whoa. you look GREAT!
M (after the stranger walks away): you DO look great, but are the skinny jeans really necessary?
me: hells. yes. Daddy.
How weird is it to refer to each other as "mommy" and "daddy" all the time and to ones self in third person. Mommy's washing you! Mommy sees you! Mommy smells your pooooo.....but like most non-native speakers, pronouns and abstracts are tough for babies and referencing each other in ways they understand is apparently strongly recommended. Huh. Who knew. I just thought my dad had a weird mom complex. I mean, I'm fairly certain he did, but that's another story.
On a good day, I may also do one or more of the following:
- brush my teeth
- make the bed
- eat breakfast
- throw in a load of laundry
- write some thank you notes
- check email/blogs
- try to figure out our new high-deductible insurance, which, for the record SUUUCKS. Like, three syllable sucks.
And oh the pumping. That is really the thing that is most often the most undoable. Simply because when D is down, I have a list of other priorities, like feeding and clothing myself. When D is up, he is up and demands undivided attention. As he should. I mean, have you seen him? He's a-frigging-dorable.
D hasn't "taken to the breast" yet. We try at least once a day. I could probably try harder. But you know, I'm ok with it. We have plenty of us time. Plenty of skin-to-skin and kangaroo care moments. (read: I'm running around topless all the time, yo!) If he doesn't want my boob, I'm not going to force it on him. Because that feels yucky to me. It just does. I don't like pushing him to do something he doesn't want, especially when it is so intimate in nature. Plus, it stings just a bit when your baby physically pushes you away, no? I'd rather take that time and cuddle and love, and feed him with a bottle. Fine.
About 10% of D's daily intake is breast milk. The rest is formula. My pal A heard those numbers and wondered, "dude, that's not a lot. Is it really worth all that work?"
Well, fair question. And for right now, I'm saying yes. It is. It's worth sitting in the dark for a few moments, nursing (as it were) those few drops from my breasts to give to him. Because I can. Because it's giving him a few more nutrients. A little less constipation. A little part of me. A taste for curry. A love of garlic. A craving for vegetables. Its worth it for now, even if I can't give him as much as I'd like.
So that's where we are. That's how we roll. In a snap-n-go. ;-)
*Think white-girl hybrid salsa/meringue/cha cha cha/side sway to the music provided on the Music Choice Tropicales station, which appears to be D's standing fave.