Tag Archives: Momfessions

And I really don’t know why because he sits around in his pajamas all day snacking and napping. World’s laziest baby and yet he reaks like three week old leftovers.

I can only blame his parents. Our bath routine has gone from an every day ritual to “Has he been bathed this week? Because his crotch smells awful.”

I blame the hassle that is bathing. Pre-parent Kate thought washing a baby would be the most precious, wonderful, magical, easiest piece of cake ever.

No.

-Bathing Baby-

Step One: Undress Baby.

Step Two: Tell Baby How Cute He Is Without Clothes On.

Step Three: Fill Up Kitchen Sink (That Still Kind Of Smells Like Onions?) With Appropriately Warmed Water.

Step Four: Spend Ten Minutes Arguing With Spouse On How The Water Is or Is Not Appropriately Warmed.

Step Five: Turn On Space Heater.

Step Six: Turn Off Space Heater Because It Is Singeing Your Eyebrows.

Step Seven: Find Baby.

Step Eight: Undiaper Baby/Get Peed On By Baby.

Step Nine: Place Baby Gently Into Water While Acting Incredibly Excited For Baby.

Step Ten: Wash Slippery Baby Parts While Singing Loudly For Baby.

Step Eleven: Try Not To Drop Baby Because Baby Is Squirming.

Step Twelve: Encourage Baby To Maybe Enjoy This.

Step Thirteen: Rinse Baby.

Step Fourteen: Dry Baby.

Step Fifteen: Admire Baby In Towel.

Step Sixteen: Diaper & Dress Baby.

Step Seventeen: Smell Baby/ Be Satisfied With Baby.

Step Eighteen: Watch Baby Spit Up In Ear.

Step Nineteen: Start Over.

Translation–> It’s Exhausting.

I also blame teething, which has contributed to less sleep and a general veil of laziness because no one is rested. Remember that one time back in the newborn days when I was all “Woe is me, the baby was up five times and I’m so tired” ? Well I should have thanked my lucky stars it was only five times because teething is a whole new battlefield. Just last night WT was up every hour. EVERY HOUR. If you think I’m exaggerating, I invite you to bed with me tonight. You will not enjoy it.

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#10 Before I gave birth I thought a lot about what giving birth would look like. I pictured it to be epically disgusting with lots of screaming, swearing, and hysterical crying. I was right.

I also figured that afterwards, I might need some XL granny panties to hold in the giant diapers worn for postpartum recovery. Also correct.

Conversation in Target with my sister on day of purchase:

Me: (holding up underwear) We can never tell anyone about this.

Kelly: You’re right.

Me: This is the most terrible thing I’ve ever bought.

Kelly: It’s pretty bad.

Me: If Austin sees me in these, he might never want to look in that direction again.

Kelly: I wouldn’t.

19 weeks later and I still own them. Why? Because I figure I might do all of that again someday (shutter). The problem is that at least once a month I run out of all “normal” underwear and have to slip these bad boys on out of desperation. Not ideal.

My confession? They are actually really comfortable. Mind-blowingly comfortable. Never want to wear another thong again comfortable.

Now I know why grannies are always so cheerful. They are wearing soft, nipple-high, cotton briefs that never give you a wedgie and always leave you covered. Mystery solved.

#11 So I gave my baby food even though he’s not really ready. It was somewhat out of boredom, but mostly I was hoping it would help him sleep through the night (it did not).

How it went:

Don’t worry, he eventually warmed up to it (and by that I mean he spit it all over my face and laughed). Maybe we’ll try again in a few weeks (years?) when he’s not being such a baby.

#12 Now that Baby Baer has turned into a bipolar teething monster, it takes some special maneuvering to calm him down.

So far the best solution is rocking back and forth on the couch like Rainman while singing shouting showtunes at an extremely high decibel. Too bad I can never remember the words.

On my own
Pretending he’s beside me
On my own
I want some dessert inside me
Dum Dum Dum
Please go to sleep, you’re crazy
And when I close my eyes, just close your eyes, please close your eyes
I want some sleep please

Downloading the soundtracks to Les Mis and Phantom of the Opera as we speak. It’s wrong what I’m doing to these songs, but I don’t really know what else to do. Teething = Mommy hell.

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Momfession #9: Criminal Acts
Momfession #8: All Dried Up
Momfessions #3-7: Watermelons, Vaccums, & Stretch Marks, etc.
Momfession #2: Belated Baby Blues
Momfession #1: Colic

This is the story of the boy who cried and the mommy who caved and the policeman who didn’t find out and cart everyone away to jail.

This is a story of a major mommy fail.

A while ago I mentioned something about how our dear Auntie Pat hosts a two day soirée for all the women in the family at her home in Morgantown, WV every year. It is quite the event and it just so happened to take place this past weekend.

I was really excited it, but anxious about the 4 hour car ride with a baby who equates the word car-seat with torture device. I considered leaving the kid with Baby Daddy until I was given a speech on how he must study this weekend or he’ll have to drop out of medical school and turn to a life on the streets (I may be dramatizing this a bit).

So I went, with the baby, on Saturday morning at 8am with a van load of women and two tons of crap to keep the baby alive for 48 hours.

He fell asleep the second we pulled out of the driveway. I thought, “what an angel.”45 minutes later he was screaming to wake the dead and I was developing sweat pits the size of Montana.

I tried the nook. I tried the bottle. I tried a silly song about peanuts. I tried shushing and smiling and disapproving stares. I tried it all and was met each time with the most pitiful face you’ve ever seen followed by more of that dreadful crying. And then I took him out of his seat.

I know I shouldn’t do this. I know it’s dangerous and irresponsible and against the law. I know, I know, I know. But when you’re in a tiny space with a lot of people and there are many hours of road ahead and you know the baby could potentially scream for hours straight without stopping (because he’s done it before)–it just happens.

So I fed him and that was that. I promise to (try to) never do it again.

The good news is that he was unnaturally cheerful during our stay which made things very relaxing.

The bad news is that I still feel terrible about it. I feel like out of all the “new mom” stereotypes, I am in the irresponsible one. This makes me very sad.

New Mom Stereotypes

Overachiever Mom

Motto: “Sleep is overrated.”
Characteristics: alarmingly cheerful, wears high heels, never has poop on elbow
Can Be Found:  crocheting thank-you gifts while nursing baby
Warning Signs This Might Be You: You were the captain of your college field hockey team.

Know-It-All Mom

Motto: “It’s so interesting that you think that.”
Characteristics:  prone to lip-pursing and eyebrow-raising
Can Be Found: sending mass emails on how formula will probably make your child grow a third arm
Warning Signs This Might Be You: No one will answer your calls.

Hysterical Mom

Motto: “My baby hates me!”
Characteristics: Shoes on the wrong feet, crazy eyes, little bits of food in hair
Can Be Found:  calling the American Academy of Pediatrics headquarters
Warning Signs This Might Be You: Baby’s first milestones are eye-rolling and playing the world’s tiniest violin

Irresponsible Mom

Motto: “He/She’ll be fine!”
Characteristics: Perpetually forgetting the diaper bag, dressing baby in inappropriate outfits for the climate
Can Be Found:  taking baby out of the car-seat in a moving vehicle
Warning Signs This Might Be You: You are typing this list.

A moment of silence for poor Baby Baer. May he make it to his 18th birthday.

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