The Informavore

In the past 3.75 months of being a new parent, I have learned the truths behind some of the cliches.

You know those “mom jeans” with the mile high waist and three foot long crotch? Awesome. Why? Do you know what a post-baby belly looks like when you haven’t been to the gym? Like Droopy the Dog. The higher the waist – the more the carnage is contained. Voilà.

Oh, and the guilt trips moms are notorious for? It’s because we ( I ) spend most of our days making ourselves feel guilty that we have to knock others down a peg just to maintain sanity. Everything makes me feel like a horrible person.

Even though we were only in Texas for two full days, I feel guilty that we didn’t visit my grandmother’s house when she invited us at Thanksgiving dinner. She lives less than five minutes away. It was possible – and though we will still be seeing her at Christmas – I feel like a jerk.

I have been wanting to return to the gym. I’m carrying around baby weight, which, is only an excuse until Jan. 1st. Then, I can’t say “I just had a baby,” without adding the “last year” caveat. While the gym has a child care room, I feel guilty unloading him on new strangers when he’s already been in school all day. Guilt. But I don’t feel inspired to exercise unless I’m in the gym – and I really like using a facility I am paying for. Guilty guilt.

The worst part? Lily. Our first “baby” had her world turned upside down. She doesn’t get the uninterrupted one on one playtime. Guilt. She’s been chewing her feet when Elliott cries because her ears are so sensitive. Guilt. She doesn’t have a happy, playful expression anymore. Now, she looks at me as she gamely paws to get under a blanket – as if to say, “What did I do to deserve this? Wasn’t I enough?” Fantasy induced guilt.

Is it all in my head? Probably, at least some of it. Do I think I’m demanding too much of myself? Not really. Maybe this guilt is a small contributor to my current decision to make Elliott an only child. The idea of finding new things to feel guilty about- coupled with being considered a high risk pregnancy now – is a little too much. But the sibling issue is best reserved for another post.

Now I need to feel guilty about how much Elliott hates his car seat as we drive the last few hours to Bowling Green from Pilot Oak.

Woo. Let. Me. Tell you. Driving from Kentucky to Texas round trip in a week will take it out of a full grown person. Imagine being 3.75 months old. It really tough.

Elliott was a trooper, though. Being a traveling man will make you tough. While Elliott has been placing his hands on his bottles for the past few weeks – lately he’s been able to hold it up on his own for a few seconds. If I’m helping him hold it – he’s learned how to push it away so he can rest and pull it back. He also had a drop of vanilla soft serve on his tongue. He loved it.

I read a poem by Mindy Nettifee that had a line that basically said – parenting is about teaching your child how to live without you. When I read that line, it broke my heart a little bit. When I saw Elliott hold his bottle, it made me think of that line.

What do they say about transitive properties, again?

Even though we have a new play yard in our guest room, when we visit his grandparents in Texas, Elliott sleeps in my old cradle that my grandfather (his great-grandfather) made.

Riddle me this:

What happens when a baby sleeps for 80-90% of an 11.5 hour car ride on a Wednesday?

Answer:

You get a social butterfly on Thursday. ALL of Thursday.

Thanksgiving morning, Elliott was up at 3:30 a.m. and took a handful of tiny naps throughout the day. At 5:30 a.m. he was talking and singing so loudly, I had to go check out the party. I saw all the grandparents gathered around his jumper swinging in the doorway.

The rest of the day – he was all about the party. Until he got overwhelmed and had to be carted off into another room to quiet down. Plus – the fact that he barfed on two of my shirts. Guess I have to do laundry before we leave.

One hypothesis: he’s on the verge of teething. That would explain the massive amount of drool. So we let him teethe* on a turkey leg**.

*This post raised many a grammatical question about the verb tenses of teething.

**Not really.***

*** Yes, good parenting is all about the photo ops.

We made it to Texas yesterday. Barely.

After waking up to feed Elliott at 12:30, we got up at 2:30 a.m. We hit the road at 3:30 a.m. And drove for 11 1/2 hours. It was worth it for an extra half day with his Nana and Papa.

Girl.

It is ten shades of cray cray around our house this week.

On Saturday, we took Elliott to the photography studio to have his picture taken with Santa. Y’all – this Santa was so legit I nearly climbed in his lap and told him my own Christmas wish (to fit into the skinniest jeans I own). The weekend was nonstop errands, cleaning, laundry, auto repairs and chaos.

Today – more auto repairs, more cleaning, more laundry, more errands. We depart for the first leg of our Texas caravan trip tomorrow. Elliott and Lily are packed. Corey and I, on the other hand, may wear the same yoga pants and tees through the holidays.

The transition back to work has gone fairly well. I’m only responsible for one event right now. Since the biggest tournament of the semester ended right before I returned, it has been pretty low-key. I have still found ways to keep myself busy. As you can see – blogging isn’t one of the things.

Now, to continue multitasking – I’m going to see about downloading some holidays tunes while I wait for my car to get new tires.

It may surprise some of my non-babified friends to know that infants sleep longer when they are full and dry. Crazy, I know.

Elliott had been napping most of the evening and I went to wake him for go pre-bedtime bottle. I turned on his lamp and he squinted his eyes. When I cooed, “Hey sweet boy,” he slowly opened his eyes, saw it was me then grinned a huge smile and sleepily wiggled around. It was as if I alone was a good enough reason to be woken up.

Ovary ‘splosion. Like I said, I can’t handle him. He is too sweet. He is going to make someone very happy one day. Well, someone he’s not already genetically related to. Times like this make me very happy.

Good night.