Parenthood is bopping along pretty well. We survived Halloween and dressing Baby C up like Princess Leia. She was not happy about it, but Husband was. I figured he has two years of influence over Halloween costume selection before she has an opinion, so better fit the Star Wars in now.
The daycare drop-off is getting easier. Not easy mind you, but easier. C continues to be her happy, gargling self when she's not coughing up a lung due to her first cold. It took a week in daycare to get to that milestone and I know exactly what kid passed it along. (I'm looking at you over there in the corner, Snotty McButterpants. Yes, you.)
That's okay though, because I can listen to everyone put the positive spin on it by saying, "She's building up immunity!" Right. Let's talk immunity when she's coughing everyone awake at 3 a.m. But really it's not too bad. Husband is even getting pretty deft with the snot-sucker thing.
After all my blog entries bellyaching about how hard it is to have a newborn, I can't believe I'm saying this... she's growing too fast. Seriously. I'm not ready for her to be a kiddo yet. I'm totally smitten with this baby. This is not earth-shattering news, but I've never liked babies - wouldn't hold my friends' babies, never babysat for infants, never understood the big deal about how babies smell. (I assumed they smelled like poop.) They don't.
Holy crap. I actually like this mom stuff. I make up ridiculous jingles. I have a variety of strange voices. I don't even mind the diaper change. Giving her a bath makes my day. How the hell did this happen?
The first week we brought her home, in my hormonal haze, I tried to will her older. Please become a kid so I can understand how to interact with you, I pleaded, while she screamed on the changing table. Please grow up a bit so I can have a smidgeon of my old life back, I guiltily thought.
Fortunately, that phase has passed. I told Husband this morning in an incredulous tone, "This parenting thing is not at all what I expected. It's actually fun."
And just so you know, the baby smell is actually a mix of baby shampoo, lotion and dryer sheets. Best smell ever.
The daycare drop-off is getting easier. Not easy mind you, but easier. C continues to be her happy, gargling self when she's not coughing up a lung due to her first cold. It took a week in daycare to get to that milestone and I know exactly what kid passed it along. (I'm looking at you over there in the corner, Snotty McButterpants. Yes, you.)
That's okay though, because I can listen to everyone put the positive spin on it by saying, "She's building up immunity!" Right. Let's talk immunity when she's coughing everyone awake at 3 a.m. But really it's not too bad. Husband is even getting pretty deft with the snot-sucker thing.
After all my blog entries bellyaching about how hard it is to have a newborn, I can't believe I'm saying this... she's growing too fast. Seriously. I'm not ready for her to be a kiddo yet. I'm totally smitten with this baby. This is not earth-shattering news, but I've never liked babies - wouldn't hold my friends' babies, never babysat for infants, never understood the big deal about how babies smell. (I assumed they smelled like poop.) They don't.
Holy crap. I actually like this mom stuff. I make up ridiculous jingles. I have a variety of strange voices. I don't even mind the diaper change. Giving her a bath makes my day. How the hell did this happen?
The first week we brought her home, in my hormonal haze, I tried to will her older. Please become a kid so I can understand how to interact with you, I pleaded, while she screamed on the changing table. Please grow up a bit so I can have a smidgeon of my old life back, I guiltily thought.
Fortunately, that phase has passed. I told Husband this morning in an incredulous tone, "This parenting thing is not at all what I expected. It's actually fun."
And just so you know, the baby smell is actually a mix of baby shampoo, lotion and dryer sheets. Best smell ever.
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