The library police (aka a severe elderly lady named Linda in a pink cardigan which was not severe) swooped in to escort me away from the story time, just in case some of my tardiness would rub off on the put together parents.
So some days the way I am called to love my family is to remove myself from them to run off some stress. Some days it’s skipping my workout because Seb is crabby and needs to be held. Some days it’s salad, some days it’s really freaking amazing straight- from- Italy pasta from Costco.
I’m going to jump right to the problem-it’s you. And I’m done.
Mom’s are supposed to be with their babies, biology says so, and I get that. If I was in a small tribe in a third world country, I would work in the fields with Seb on my back in the original baby carrier. And I probably wouldn’t have paid so much for shipping. But that’s not the reality I’m working with, and as much as it breaks my heart to be apart from Seb, we both have grown from the experience.
A dry, dead plant in a pool of water is just about as depressing as it gets, and probably a metaphor for something. Another $15 dollars that I basically could have just thrown down the garbage disposal like my succulent carcass.
A few days later we were sitting in a lactation consultants office with a woman who gave off the vibe that she would be a very good fortune teller gypsy. It didn’t help that she smelled so strongly of garlic that I’m fairly certain she must have bathed in it. We were there for Seb to have his tongue tie looked at, and while we were talking I mentioned in casual desperation that I was a little bit engorged.
OR scrubs take the scrub game to a whole new level. See, when you first graduate nursing school, you buy all of those Facebook ad scrubs. The form fitting ones with elastic and zippers and pockets just in case you need to store something no bigger than a quarter behind your left calf.
That’s how I feel about parenting. Which, I’m not technically even doing yet. I feel like “parenting” refers to teaching and playing and educating and disciplining. I’m no where near that. I’m infanting. Which is basically just trying to make sure Sebastian is fed and relatively happy, which he is because he has the personality of a golden retriever puppy. Playful, adorable, and pees when he gets excited.
7. He is in charge of decorating the house that I pay for with a shocking motif of spit up, pee, and Sophie the Giraffe.
Over the next day or so, in between the distracting pain of my boobs swelling to the size of small boulders and the pain my son’s head caused when he bulldozed into this world, I was aware of the frightening sensation of gargling cement in my intestines. One week out and there was no denying there was a very serious problem.