Can I even call what I am doing parenting when said parentee is only 11 days old? I mean, there isn't really any discipline involved or much decision making on how to handle situations. The biggest decisions I have to make right now are:
Is that cry a gas squeal or a hunger scream? Is that smell wafting from her diaper normal? Should I even bother showering? Can formula soak into your pores and literally release from your body? If not, is there a way to get that smell off of me or out of me? Again-should I bother to shower because it is obviously not getting rid of that smell?
The things I have learned in the past week:
It is possible for babies to spew formula out of their noses. That blue suctioning thing is made to remove said formula from nostrils. Newborns can actually projectile poo-and at an impressive distance. Newborns can snore-whether or not that is normal or good is a question this week for the doc. Apparently I may be ok at taking care of a newborn. Check back with me during the terrible twos and the teenage years.
Yes-my husband actually said to me last night, " You know, you are actually a really good mother." Now, I know he said this as a compliment, but I just looked at him like - "You are obviously surprised!?" He did explain himself-he means that he is impressed that I took to this motherhood thing and am fairly comfortable right now (again, check back with me when she begins to do more than eat, sleep, poop, and burp). I have to say-I am surprised too. I did not grow up around newborns-but I seem to be finding my way for the moment-so please keep the fingers crossed!
My sweet husband also brought home flowers for his new daughter. He brought her a dozen of the most beautiful pink roses. I am not a crier, but when I saw the card, I just started blubbering. It read, "A girl's first flowers should come from her daddy. I love you-Daddy." Isn't that the sweetest thing? Of course, I now have 25 pictures of these roses and the card for prosperity.
My dear husband was also the one to discover that poop can fly from the tiniest of places. I come into our den and find my dear hubby with the end of the changing mat up in the air to create a barrier as he dodges flying poo. At least he was laughing and seemed to be impressed with his daughter's abilities.
It's just me-and all of my idiosyncrasies. I work full time, I am married, and I love my dog. We just adopted a baby girl. I am completely contradictory, I am a girlie girl, and I am impatient. I like breakfast for dinner. I like apples and peanut butter. I like wine. I like entertaining. I like sleeping. I like labels and I can be a b-with an-itch when I want to be or am pushed. I want to give my baby every opportunity in the world, and I want to teach her values and the rewards of hard work. I want more children and am scared to death of the uncertainties of adoption even though I have already done it. I love my husband. I hate that I weigh the most I ever have in my whole life. I want my husband to make a zillion dollars a year, and I want him to put up his laundry and clothes when I ask. I want what most people want-and here is my story-day by day!