Poot and Cubby

Yes, I have gone on record as saying the second kid is so much easier than the first. Yes, Arlo is a much better sleeper than his sister and I am not a basket case this time around. But I just wouldn’t be me if I didn’t complain just a wee bit about some of the things that are less than diaper-commercial-perfect about having a newborn. So, in no particular order, here are some of the things that are still a trifle irritating about #2:

1. Being at the mercy of someone else’s schedule. Going anywhere is a total production, like say, going out for Indian food because you are excited to eat it and not have it lead to instantaneous heartburn like it did while you were pregnant. You do the math while you are out calculating when he last ate and how long he has been sleeping and decide you are in dangerous territory. With your one free hand, you shovel curry into your mouth at a furious pace, while your other hand holds your precariously sleeping newborn. Lest he wake up you forgo your beloved Chai tea at the end of the meal. You do not linger. You just get the hell out of there after 45 minutes and call it a success that the other diners were not subjected to his shrill wailing.

2. Breastfeeding. Yes. Breast is best. But, it sucks sometimes. You are obsessed with the following questions: When was the last time he ate? When will he want to eat again? Should I feed him before I go to _______(insert any destination here), in case there are breastaphobes there and you have to spend lengthy periods of time underneath a hot and annoying receiving blanket or risk offending someone with a quick flash of nipple. Oh, and let’s not even go into the state of your breasts. Oh, wait a minute. I already did. Then, you have all those crazy ass health nurses telling you that breastfeeding shouldn’t hurt. No, I’m sure it shouldn’t. But it does. Like a bitch. Oh, I take that back. It’s constant bliss. Like motherhood itself. Really.

3. Alone time. You are never, ever alone. You yearn for the brand of insanity that solitary confinement is said to bring. Freedom is no longer a word in your vocabulary. And no, babysitting is not a possibility when you are as dreadful a failure at pumping (see #2) as I am. It’s a little known fact that babies DO need to eat, so they do tend to hold their moomies hostage. You just have to accept it knowing that this too shall pass.

4. Worrying that you are not spending enough time with child #1. You miss her cuddles. You also oddly miss uninterrupted hours of puzzles and repeated picture book readings. You get sick of hearing yourself say, “Just wait, honey. After I’m done feeding the baby I’ll feed you/get you a drink/get you a band-aid/play with you/pay attention to you/hug you.” Alternately, you also curse #1 and her ability to have a pee emergency when you are breastfeeding or the baby is otherwise a huge crankypants. Then when she cannot turn on the bathroom light in time or is otherwise too slow to pull down her pants, you must run into the bathroom, leaving the baby screaming in the other room, while you clean up the pee that is in a huge puddle all over the floor immediately in front of the toilet. The extreme irritation you feel towards your first-born is not lessened by the fact that you must remind her several times that it is not a rain puddle and that it is not appropriate to splash around in her own urine.

As for the rest, I think I shall do a Part 2. I do hate a long blog post. And given my short attention span and hand cramps that come from typing with one hand while holding the baby in the other, you will just have to wait until tomorrow for the rest.