I found this journal entry that I wrote to the baby today and laughed. This was my very first attempt at writing my memories down for the baby. I thought I would post it. I laughed not because I thought I was funny. I laughed because even though I wrote this in April, I am still experiencing the exact same thing in August. I'm certain that it gets better. Right...?
PS. Notice in the beginning that it says that I'm going to try to write to the baby often. I don't think I wrote too much after the first week!
April 21, 2009
Today you are 12 weeks old. I have been wanting to write to you for a while now and of course have never found the right time. And even now, as I write you are with your Daddy who is trying to put you to sleep. Actually, I think you are hungry so your cries are distracting me. I’m not sure if this idea of writing will actually hold for long. It’s now 11:02pm and there is still so much to do. I just don’t understand where the time goes. Before you arrived I was always so busy but at the end of the day I felt like I was productive. There was always something, no matter how small, I had been able to accomplish. Now, that “small” thing is simply getting out of my bathrobe. It drives me crazy to see all of these projects left undone. Or even worse, left half done. Any attempt at organizing a room is off set by the next room looking like a bomb hit it. I just don’t see an end to it. And your Daddy always says, “We’ll get it done.” But he’s been saying that for at least five months. Yes, that’s right. Before you arrived. And the hardest part of all is that I think it’s harder for me to live in this state than for your Daddy, so the incentive on his end is not as strong.
So, why can’t I get anything done, you may be asking? Well…honestly, I ask myself that every day. Your Daddy will come home and say, “Tell me about your day.” And I’m thinking, “What?!?! Are you kidding me? It was the same as yesterday.” In fact, I think it’s still yesterday. What day is it? How did it get to be 7pm? I just want to take a nap. Why aren’t you sleepy? Are you hungry, AGAIN??? There’s no end to the cycle. Well, there is, but I have to work really hard to do anything differently. And sometimes the effort is just too great for me. So we end up spending the entire day just lying in bed, staring at the animal pictures that I taped to the ceiling, and wondering when your next nap time is. (Even though you probably just woke up from one.)
Today, I was supposed to get your birth certificate. Well, lo and behold, your mother was late and the lady at the counter told me that I needed to make another appointment because I was 15 minutes late. So, I drove 45 minutes in morning traffic to downtown LA, struggled to find a parking spot with a meter that actually worked, changed your diaper, strapped you into the Ergo, and hiked my way the two blocks to the ugly grey county building. All that for her to tell me to come back. I actually almost broke down in tears at the window as I begged her to just make the darn certificate. I take that back. I might have actually threatened her. And I even put my old acting skills to work. I came up with some crazy story about how we were moving out of the country so I really needed to get this taken care of now, and I made a strong point to say that I just couldn't come back. That didn't work. She just looked at me and said, "Oh well. How does May 7th work for you?"
I guess I'm coming back. I will attempt to arrive more promptly for my rescheduled appointment because I don't think I can use that story twice in a row. And I'm really sorry that you witnessed your mother lying at such an impressionable age but the idea of lugging you all the way down there again was so overwhelming. Let's just say that I let my emotions have a little too much power over me. And I say lug you down there because, yes, I do have to bring you with me to prove to the lady behind the plexi glass window that you do in fact exist. If it was for a more joyous trip I would not use the word “lug”.
Then I went to Target with you. You were quite a delight there. But I bought a clock that is too big for our wall. (It's not like time means anything to me anymore anyway.) So, I must bring it back. I’m pretty sure I spend more time in the Return Line there, than in the actual store. I have this same relationship with Babies ‘R’ Us. Then after Target I had a smoothie and sat outside while you sat in my lap. You were so cute, looking around at all the people walking by. I also helped you to pee in the bushes. Don’t worry, we were very discreet. You were so relaxed and in a great mood.
For the record, you’re in a great mood almost all the time. You’re a wonderful baby. Except when we went to the post office. Definitely not happy with your environment then. It was super hot and we both were sticky and sweaty. This is now our third errand for the day and I think you had it with the in, out, in, out, in, out of the car seat straps. We went in to mail some things but you were crying sort of half way on and half way off. You weren’t quite sure how to express your feelings to me. So I thought that if I take you outside to feed you then with your full, content stomach I could continue with my errand in peace. But as we waited in line to have the post man hold my things you really started to let it out. And then we were being stared at by most everyone there. The customers and employees at the counters were all yelling at each other so that they could hear each other over your cries. Smiling and screaming at each other, at the same time.
It was kind of funny. People minding their own business with this look on their faces, "What cry? I don't hear any crying." But it was quite obvious we were all suffering from some hearing loss in those five minutes.
When I finally got to the counter, the nice man told me to take my time and he would hold my things. Well, after trying to feed you in 100 degree weather you were still not satisfied so I just decided to pay for my packaging material that I had already sealed up and get the heck out of there.
That whole expedition took about 45 minutes and all I got out of it was a $2.08 cushioned envelope. And still my packages are sitting on the kitchen counter. Still. But you looked so miserable that nothing really mattered at that point. I just wanted you to be happy.
I have to end this for today. It’s now 12am. I bounced you back to sleep. (Daddy had put you down but you woke up a short 10 minutes later. We just can’t fool you, can we?) I didn’t mean for my first writing to be so whiny. You are so loved here. I am in so much love with you. I am so happy to be with you all the time, really. It’s hard to explain the love that I feel for you. And as far as babies go, you are really quite easy to care for. You’re such a joyful baby and you don’t ask for many things. You love being held. You love to smile. You love when we talk to you. You love to watch things. You seem to be a very old soul, always looking so philosophical and interested in life around you. I am in heaven being your mother. Today was just one of those days where many projects were attempted but each project left only half done.
So, good night for now. Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention that I’ve been wearing pants for about 12 hours now that have poop on them. Your poop. And my shirt has your spit up on it. I’ve gotten used to smelling like a carton of rotten milk. But poop on my clothing is sort of a new dimension of motherhood. I just never found the need to actually change my pants. So now I’m going to peel off my clothes and crawl into bed next to Daddy who is waiting for me. I do hope you sleep well tonight. That would mean a lot to me.
No comments:
Post a Comment