I’ve never liked the fact that people often treat new moms like babies. At the baby shower, for instance, people will adorn the mom-to-be in a corsage made of rattles and baby bottles. And the diaper bags! Why would a grown woman suddenly need to carry a purse covered in Winnie the Pooh and friends? It doesn't match anything.
So that’s my mantra: “I’m having a baby, not becoming one.”
But lately I’ve felt like I AM becoming a baby. You know how when babies wear pants and shirts (rather than onesies) their tops always ride up and their bellies show? That happens to me too. I try to wear a shirt that doesn’t hang down to my thighs and inevitably, it creeps up. I look like a three-month old.
And I act like one too. I have to eat every two hours. If not, I get fussy. So if I’m going to run errands, I have to eat right before I go and then I’ve got a two hour window to get everything done.
So that’s my mantra: “I’m having a baby, not becoming one.”
But lately I’ve felt like I AM becoming a baby. You know how when babies wear pants and shirts (rather than onesies) their tops always ride up and their bellies show? That happens to me too. I try to wear a shirt that doesn’t hang down to my thighs and inevitably, it creeps up. I look like a three-month old.
And I act like one too. I have to eat every two hours. If not, I get fussy. So if I’m going to run errands, I have to eat right before I go and then I’ve got a two hour window to get everything done.
Yesterday when the dental hygienist told me I’d have to have more work done than I expected, I burst into tears. And when they were done with the work I was smiling again. I might have even cooed at them.
I don’t wear a diaper but I might as well, for as often as I have to go to the bathroom. (Hey, maybe that lady astronaut was on to something.)
So just call me baby Writinggal. At least when BS gets here, I’ll be able to relate. In the meantime, can someone bring me my bottle? I’m getting fussy.
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