Diaper-Guilt

While building my baby registry, I researched a slew of baby products. Baby carriers, baby swings, baby ______ - you get it. I spent some time researching cloth diapers and really liked gDiapers - a hybrid of disposable and cloth, but decided that we would cross the diaper-bridge after we introduced solid foods. So, I registered for a variety of diaper brands and saved a few gift cards with the hopes that if we need a diaper alternative down the road, we will be able to offset the investment.

Then, through Facebook status updates or one-on-one conversations, I learned that some of my friends were going down the cloth diaper path - and I started questioning my original decision. I went back to the blogs and baby websites to research cloth diapers, yet again. After opening my 3rd browser tab and drinking two greyhounds, I thought to myself, forget it. I don't need to read a blog to understand the environmental benefits and I don't need to beat myself up about Ingrid's diaper consumption. This situation - using disposable diapers, for now, is the best decision.

When it comes to parenting, everyone really does do everything differently and whatever works for that family, works. Because new moms are constantly searching for answers to breastfeeding, sleeping and all-things-baby questions, we come across a variety of tips, book recommendations and conflicting opinions. As we swim through the oceans of information it's hard not to feel a twinge of guilt every now and again when what you're doing is considered "wrong" by someone (or some book, or some website). Right now, my parenting decisions are really driven by Ingrid - eat, sleep, play and poop. So, before she adds anything else to my parenting-plate, I need to stop getting so twirly about other people's decisions, keep reading and learn to "trust my gut" - and, above all, enjoy this little chickpea.  

30 Second Commercial

In my previous (gulp, only) job, our sales consultants created "30 second commercials" or "elevator speeches" to explain their business to whoever they encountered. I developed my own "commercials" to explain my job, how I met my now-husband, etc. While pregnant, I felt the need to give everyone a 1,990 second speech about my relationship, engagement story and unexpected baby.

If you didn't know me personally, I spewed facts and dates at you - letting you know that our relationship - and this baby - are completely legit, despite our martial status. Because we've been together forever, lived together for years and recently, got engaged. 

I'd like to pretend it didn't bother me - but honestly, how much easier would it have been if we were already married? Do you know who makes it worse? Those knuckleheads who are so wrong for each other and get married within a year of knowing each other. Because "when you know, you know!" Then, they use the phrase "my hubby" (gag) while you refer to your "boyfriend" like a sixth grader. Finally, they rush out to the suburbs in a race to see who can be the most boring. Ok, I'm getting further and further away from my point. 

Yesterday I was talking to Ingrid, telling her how we met and got married (she was very interested) when Dan walked by, asked what I was doing and said "She wasn't planned, but she was always part of the plan." 

How beautiful, how simple and how true. 

Now, if anyone does the math - married in October, baby in...April? I'll just let them go ahead and think what they want to think, knowing that any pathetic attempt to explain "our story" isn't worth my time or energy because it's true, she wasn't planned, but she's always been a part of the plan.

One Month

Ingrid's first month was full of firsts.

• First time meeting friends and family
• First sniffs from Kitty and Harper 
• First bath 
• Doctor's office visit (the word "first" is starting to look weird, I'm done using it...for now) 
• Car ride 
• Grocery store visit 
• Walk 
• Sling/Baby Bjorn 
• Confusing Dan and I with your cries 
• Smile - perhaps it's involuntary - I really don't care.

Some describe parenthood as being comprised of "long days and fast months" and so far, I agree. I can't believe how exhausted I am by 6 pm every night - and yet I'm wondering where the month went.

At her one month check-up she weighed 8 pounds 14 ounces (up from 6 lbs 12 ozs at birth) and went from 19 inches to 23. I don't understand or even care about those weird "percentiles" - so I don't really know where she's at in comparison to other babies. She does have an extremely large head (the doctor confirmed this) - and I creepily thought "maybe she'll look like Giada..." She's starting to grow out of some newborn outfits, and I'm sad and excited to pack up her newborn gear in exchange for her 0-3 month outfits. She's so innocent, unaware, dependent, precious and at times, out-of-control delirious. I waver between wanting to stop time and wanting her to continue to grow and develop. I'm assuming this "on the fence" thinking will continue for the next few decades. Here's a look at her first month:

First day of your life. We're overwhelmed.  

Tummy time with Harper. 

Hanging out with Jamie

The Atkinsons

First bath - Ingrid was not impressed. 

First visit to the doctor

Play time (aka, marveling at dangling toys) 

Dan and Ingrid love hats

May 10, 2011 - One month old!

Harper, on duty. 

Human, Yet Again

I took a small break from writing and blogging for a few reasons - mainly, because I felt like a shell-version of myself and I'm happy to report that I feel human, yet again.

I've been focusing on Ingrid sleeping, eating, pooping and playing (then - repeat) - yet I've been in such a blurry haze. Friends and family would ask how she's doing - and I have no basis for comparison. She's eating well, for Ingrid. She's sleeping well, as far as I know (and can remember...). And our Diaper Genie visits are all the proof I need that she's pooping like a champ. She can see things and grab things (aka, her version of playing). How can four mundane activities consume our days and nights - thoughts and conversation?

I don't know what clicked this week - but I shifted from feeling like a frazzled Kathy-comic version of myself to feeling like a new, normal me. Semi-frazzled, semi-put together. Maybe it's the warmer weather, or perhaps my body is finally recovering from the c-section. Whatever it is, the Atkinsons are in some sort of groove. I no longer in sweatpants 24/7 (I'm in leggings too, thank you very much). I'm reading an actual novel instead of all baby books, all the time. I'm Googling other things besides "Is ______ normal postpatdum?" And to be honest, I'm out of postpartum hell. I won't even begin to explain the severe changes your body goes through after childbirth - they are insane.

I'm looking forward to bonding with Ingrid this summer with walks to the park - and having a few cocktails on the porch - cheers!

Cliches

I get it, I get it, I get it. I now understand how someone who sleeps 17 hours a day consumes all of your time. I get how parents run on minimal sleep. I get that stay-at-home moms don't just watch The View and hang out all day. I get it.

While pregnant, I heard all of the "new parent cliches" - and I'm happy to say that I've found only a few of them to be true. My house is not a disaster, I haven't missed a shower - but I am tired by 8 pm every night and I'm longing for a solo trip to the gym soon. Everyone advises you to "let the laundry pile up and not worry about the dishes." This doesn't work for me as I feel productive and comfortable in a clean house. I've stayed sane by breaking up my household tasks into chunks. Fold the laundry until Ingrid wakes up - throw her in the sling and do a load of dishes - whatever works.

Another cliche "Motherhood is the hardest job, ever." Ugh, true! At "work" everything tends to make sense and I know I'm going home with a paycheck. Now, I'm questioning every decision and saving every penny because this job pays nada. Ingrid is a great eater and a good sleeper - she's good at life. While her life is incredibly simple it's demanding, demanding, demanding. Good thing she keeps getting cuter by the day.