Life as a New Mom

A first-time mom adjusting to her new everything


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And so it begins.

Game on, Widget.  I see you there, trying to look cute so I’ll forgive you for the fussing you’ve done all day for the last week.  Oh yes, and the grabbing your spoon to gnaw on in the most diabolical plan ever conceived for avoiding eating.  You should want to eat the delicious puree I have made for you, from scratch. SCRATCH.

I see you looking at me with the saddest face ever, putting your tongue out of your mouth as far as it will go, foiling my attempt to look at your gums.  But the joke’s on you.  I moved faster than you, and I saw that canker sore-looking blister.  I know that means you are getting your first tooth.  Clearly this means I am doing a superior job keeping you from dying, as you are alive to erupt a tooth.

But I make no promises if you continue this behavior, combined with the amount of cling static will envy.  In particular, I make no promises for your father, who just last night tried to clip your pacifier to your clothes (I keep telling him it’s unnecessary in the house but he doesn’t listen) and instead clipped it to your skin.  I completely agree with you wailing and crying for 15 minutes because of that.  I’ve pinched myself with it and that thing hurts.  Just remember your father did that, and that it’s rude to take out fury on innocent bystanders who also produce your main source of food.  Don’t bite the boob that feeds you.

In summation, you have many reasons to be cranky.  But so do I.  Bring it, for I shall win this battle royale.  I have the patience which you have yet to dream of, and I WILL wait you out.


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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.