Do you know what’s been getting me through these months? You know, the months where you look at your life and you’re all, HOW MUCH LONGER WILL THIS GO ON? “This” being, the 20 minute cat naps and wake ups right as you finally are able to poop alone. Or all of the digestive issues that make you want to cry when your baby smells like your husband after a taco and a Yuengling. Or the insane cabin fever that comes with 2 kids under 2 in January. That stuff. What’s getting me through is just knowing that it does in fact END.
I know that sounds simple. “Duh, we told you that” (says everyone I’ve talked to ever). It doesn’t matter. When you are a neurotic mother blogging freak, you don’t believe anyone. And really, you don’t know until it happens. I remember when G was 2 months old thinking, this is it. I have to legitimately sign my life over to this screaming chunk of chunk forever. Never again can I online shop while watching The Bachelor (most dramatic season yet) and drink red wine with a side of dark chocolate in the peace and quiet of my bedroom behind a locked door (B.). But it happens. It does happen. It’s just a matter of getting there.
G at 2 months old. This is what a baby looks like who nurses every 20 minutes.
So I’m writing this now for all of you staring into the mirror at your dark circles and frizzy hair with your first baby wondering what has become of your life. But I know you’ll read this and you’ll sort of believe me and you will feel a little bit better. But you won’t REALLY believe me. The only way you’ll know is when it happens to you too.
I worried about every.single.thing. with G. And I’m still a worrier. I mean, let’s be honest, never have I been kept awake in distress over anyone’s farts more in my life. Although B’s farts come in a close 2nd. But for different reason. And you’ll worry too about that sound that your baby made. You’ll worry about the poop that isn’t quite green but isn’t mustardy but isn’t seedy but maybe is frothy. And you’ll worry about growth charts and vaccines and sleep and your sagging boobs. But this time, for me, I know that babies are tougher than we give them credit for. No Dr. Sears, my baby won’t be a total life failure at life if I don’t pick it up immediately as it’s crying. Because in reality I have a toddler. And she’s going to have to WAIT sometimes. And she’s happier than a clam at a Britney concert.
Ruby at 2 months. Benefiting from all of my sexy mom smarts.
But now, I’m going to call it like it is: I can say all of this now because of my previous knowledge but ALSO because Ruby is not colicky like G was. If you have a colicky baby (yes it will also end) but my god in heaven, I feel for you. And the people that tell you how much better it will get at 3, 5, 6, 10 months. Tell them to F themselves. They don’t know. It’s a very special club. But from one club member to another, even IT gets better (I just can’t tell you when). Tough it out, you’ll be SO much stronger with your next baby.
It’s a GD roller coaster. I have this perspective TODAY. Tomorrow, I’ll be crying in my Paleo flax seed pumpkin non “oat” meal. And I’ll tell everyone to F off and it’s never going to get better. That’s why, on days like this, I document this shit. Then I go back and read it. And then I say, right. it gets better.
Because honestly, I’m not just writing this for you. I’m writing this for me. The me who forgets every other day. But I have the luxury of looking at my crazy ass happy toddler and knowing that my little peanut butter bag will get there too one day.
Read it, know it, love it.