The ridiculous proportions my body becomes when my milk comes in. And I do mean ridiculous.
That sleeping in a puddle of milk really just does not bother me. I’d rather sleep than care about smelling like spoiled breast milk.
The ability to take a shower is like finally figuring out how to run the 200 yard sprint in less than 2 seconds.
Doing anything to your hair after that shower is nearly impossible – especially if it requires blow drying. Forget about it. Invest in an easier hair cut – or just stop caring.
Wishing that it was totally acceptable to duct tape the pacifier to the newborns mouth.
Some times babies do not like the car seat. Leaving them in it once you arrive home does not make them like it any more than before, although one can hope. Ignoring the chance to leave the house, though, because of this little inconvenience is not OK. Turn up the radio – you must get out of the house once in a while and the baby is safe – so go for it.
It is SO true what they say about kids that are not the first born – writing down milestones, or in this case blogging about them or the like, some how doesn’t seem as important as, oh … eating breakfast or sleeping for another 15 minutes.
It’s a good week if you’re dressed in something other than your pajama’s by the time the mail man delivers your mail at least 2 days out of the 5 you’re home without your spouse – in my case that’s 4pm in the afternoon.
When the baby is growing and moving around his schedule or eliminating a feeding – you grow too. Again with those ridiculous proportions. And it hurts.