Thursday, November 3, 2011
We interrupt the not so regularly scheduled blog posts to thank you for your kind emails and texts. Yes, Baby 'Boo arrived. Yes, we are both doing well. Yes, I am operating on three hours of sleep.
Life has taken on a strangely Groundhog Day quality. Feed, burp, change. Rinse and repeat. Every two hours. Including in the middle of the night. This repetition has allowed me to come to some realizations:
1) Projectile poop sounds funny in theory. It is not that funny in actuality. Especially if you are the one being pooped on.
2) It is now completely appropriate to walk around with dried spit-up on my shoulder. And on my sleeve. And many times, on the back of my shirt. And in my hair. And sometimes, in my mouth. Don't ask.
3) I would like to send some flowers and chocolates to the inventor of the White Noise iPhone app. If it continues to help Baby 'Boo sleep, I may consider writing a sonnet in his honor.
4) I have become particularly good at typing with one hand. Well, except for the times I've texted jello instead of hello and seating instead of eating. My apologies if you have been the recipient of one of these seemingly random messages.
5) This sleep deprived, looking-like-a-bus-ran-me-over state is still totally worth it every time my little man grins at me. He either recognizes me or it's gas. I'll take it either way.