Life as a New Mom

A first-time mom adjusting to her new everything


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I think made the “Home Alone” face. I’m pretty sure I did…

…when I walked into Widget’s room this morning at 3am, after he woke me scrying (his scream/cry hybrid).  He was lying there on his tummy, with his face mashed into the side of his crib.  Not a good feeling.

He’s been rolling onto his side a lot the last few days, and apparently he’s figured out the last 90 degrees.  I’m not sure if he can do it reliably yet or not, but still.  Add to this that he never seems to want to roll from his tummy to his back (I’ve seen him do it, he just doesn’t do it often).  Rather, when he’s done with tummy time, he buries his face into the floor and cries.

So the order of business, after I took care of his immediate needs and he was back in bed:

  • Purchase a new baby monitor with video.  Stupid, perhaps, but it keeps me from having anxiety through the roof.  Pay extra for 1-day shipping.
  • Google that shit.  Attempt to discern if advice found is relevant, given the assumption the baby is 6 months old instead of 3
  • Decide advice from Google is B.S. even though some comes from people with credentials
  • Call pediatrician at 8:00:01 am (they open at 8).  Leave a message with the triage nurse.
  • Tell my husband, and get laughed at
  • Make frowny face while yelling “MY CONCERN IS LEGITIMATE!!”
  • Wait for return call and write blog post while so doing

So there you have it.  What would you do?


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Damp. Moist. Wring me out and hang me up to dry.

Dear Widget,

I see that little white cap of a tooth.  Yes, you’re 3 months.  I know, you’ve had that white cap ever since you were 5 weeks old.  But really, it’s decision time.  Either teethe the tooth already, or stop drooling.

Seriously.

It’s excessive when I hold you for one minute on my shoulder and have a wet mark the size of a kiwi, with absolutely no vomit in it.  It’s excessive when you can’t lay on the floor for 10 minutes without gagging on your own saliva.

Not only that, but it makes me sad to hear you constantly coughing because you can’t swallow the drool fast enough.

So, that being said, let’s decide to either shut off the water main or get the tooth out so the drool lightens up.  I expect your answer by end-of-business tomorrow.

Love,
Mama

P.S. – There is absolutely nothing true about the fact I want to keep typing “droll” instead of “drool”.  This situation is not droll, nor does it look to become so at any point in the future.


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A saga, in three acts

SETTING: Carolina home, present time over the course of a week

 

ACT I.

A mother-in-law visits.  She is well-meaning and the visit is nice.  She takes many photographs of her grandson, and promptly changes all her Facebook everything to use those pictures.  This is to the chagrin of her daughter-in-law, the baby’s mother, because the grandmother receives outpouring of congratulations on how awesome the grandmother looks with the baby, and demands for more pictures.  The baby’s mother is annoyed that people feel they can demand unlimited pictures for Facebook.  Also, she is likely annoyed by the implication that she has the time to take pictures because clearly babies are easy and all you need to do is throw them at the wall like pasta and a well-cooked picture magically appears.

 

ACT II.

Our intrepid mother takes her not-yet-3-months-old son to the DMV in order to re-title and register a car, along with getting new plates.  This is done early in the morning, in an attempt to beat the lines.  The son has ideas other than cooperation, resulting in embarrassment and frustration for the mother, and annoyance for everyone else because they’re already at the DMV, an uncharted circle of Hell, and now there is a crabby baby in Hell with them.

 

ACT III.

Wherein our mother and baby are besieged by a father-in-law.  This man detests their mother-in-law/grandmother, and is an otherwise pushy and obnoxious fellow.  The heroine of this saga, our young mother, tolerates him with forbearance while making absolutely certain this man will never be involved in caring for the baby.  Perhaps this is unjust, holding a baby as hostage for good behavior, but the mother does not care.  Someone who believes that everything is about him and is older than 3 does not have sufficient empathy for being around the baby. Until the father-in-law establishes a pattern of repeated, respectful behavior with no derogatory comments toward the father of the baby, our young mother has no interest in pursuing a relationship and therefore the baby shall have none either.  This visit culminates in tension and the father-in-law’s departure is met with a sigh of relief and thanks to Odin (because this is a SAGA, and those are all Norse if the literature are to be believed…and I like thinking of myself as a Valkyrie).