Momfessions #3-7: Watermelons, Vaccums, & Stretch Marks, etc.

#3 Yesterday I attempted to put Baby Baer into an emptied half watermelon for a picture. He fell out onto the mulch face down and screamed. The terrible part is that I didn’t really feel that sorry for him.  I was more sorry I attempted such a cliché picture as a baby in a watermelon.

#4 Sometimes I let him scream. I don’t want to, but it’s just not practical to hold him all day. I lay the poor sucker down, practice my positive parenting and say something like, “I know you’re upset, but Mommy needs a freaking break right now…”, and walk away. Sometimes I turn on the vacuum and leave it by the bed. He likes that.

#5 When baby W is laying there all angelic like and smiling at me, there is so much love in my heart it’s like a Dolly Parton song. But when he’s screaming like a lunatic, my body goes into survival mode and does anything it can to shut him up. Usually that means jiggling him up and down and singing whatever songs pop into my brain, often a jumbled mix of hymns (resulting in some very odd lyrics) or the song I made up in sleepless delirium when he was just a few days old and wouldn’t stop crying. It goes like this:

 baby, baby marm-a-set
had to take him to the vet
when they had no apple pie
he began to cry

baby, baby cater-pillar
got stuck in the rototiller
when the blades began to chop
he began to holler, “stop!”

baby, baby applesauce
very wet and very cross
put in jars and in the store
I would like some more

baby, baby bunny rabbit
couldn’t find his mom, dagnabbit
when he found his dad instead
he said, “she’s still in bed”

Baby Daddy turns his nose up at my song, saying it’s ridiculous. And admittedly, it is stupid. But at least it’s not the inappropriate jingle I caught the father of my child singing yesterday.

sweep the floor, mommy
sweep the floor, mommy
sweep the floor, mommy
your shit is everywhere

#6 I like pumping. I know it goes against the natural way of feeding a baby and is incredibly unsexy, but it makes me feel like I’m accomplishing something. Whenever I’m finished, I proudly march around the result like it’s holy water. No one is ever that impressed.

#7 Even though my body is slowly shrinking back to a normal size, my stomach looks like a waterbed the cat clawed up. Also, it’s still not right down there. I’m thinking of having an awards banquet for my body when this is all over.

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