And Life Goes On...

Tomorrow will be four weeks since I've brought Beckham home. I think anyone who has had a baby can understand why I've waited so long before writing a blog post. Primarily I had to get past the period of return. No going back now, right? I mean, I guess that technically the period of return expired over nine months ago. You know, THAT day. However, for my own sanity, I'd like to believe that the hospital could put him back, for at least a little bit. But... four weeks of growing and he's not going back anymore.

You would think having had Sawyer would make having a second child easier. Pfffffffffffffffffftttt.... no. Nothing in the world can make waking up at 3am to feed a child any easier. It doesn't change the fact that when he's crying at me incessantly I hold him at arms length and declare he is the last child I'm ever going to have. Or the fact that after I've fed him, put him in his bassinet, turned off the lights and am almost asleep and that's when he chooses to poop. Of COURSE I'm going to question if it's REALLY necessary to change him or is it really that evil to wait until he wakes up again. (If you're wondering what path I choose on that one then I plead the 5th.)

Babies are hard. Is that news to you? It shouldn't be. And if you think for some reason it's going to be different for you... it won't. In fact, if you are under the assumption that having a baby is easy, I predict that you will be the one crying every night and wondering what you ever did to deserve this. And what did we do to deserve this? We were babies once and we did it to our mothers so it's only fair.

You want to know what's not fair? Men and the fact that they don't have boobs. Men should have to grow them when they have a child. Not only to nurse but also so they can understand the excruciating pain they cause. Because then maybe they'd understand why that area no longer belongs to them and has become the sole property of baby. Also, they'd understand that just because we carry portable milk containers, it does not mean that I want to whip them out at every public place for the baby to nurse (like the state fair.... Chris). No, I prefer to nurse in the comfort of my home because then I can just whip it all off and not worry about some strange man ogling me while I feed my child. Why couldn't milk come from an easier part of the body... like the tip of my finger.

On a lighter note, Sawyer has reached the milestone of leaving his crib for the big boy bed. We weren't quite ready for that but as Sawyer had taken to doing suicide dives out of his crib we thought it was necessary for his survival to make the switch. I was a bit worried because we didn't have a guard rail for the twin bed but for four nights now he has stayed solidly in the middle of the bed.

So, for now, I'm surviving. However, never ask me how I'm doing at 3 in the morning. Primarily because that would be creepy. But also because if you ever want to see where zombies reside you will find them nursing a child at 3 in the morning. Which, in retrospect, might be the only reason why might survive. But, then again, I think I could nurse with one hand and still kill you.