As we all know, the first birthday is really a party for the parents and you might as well schedule the party during naptime. But you aren’t celebrating any old birthday that happens every year, this first year is a celebration of survival.
Surviving a time when you really thought you might starve your newborn because you forgot to set your alarm to feed him exactly three hours after the last feeding started (which only gave you a 32 minute nap after the feeding took an hour and then took another hour to put the baby to sleep and then 28 minutes for you to fall asleep). Surviving a time when you tried to make lunch plans with a friend and after taking 25 minutes to remember all the stuff you should pack in the diaper bag, spending 50 minutes feeding your baby, changing your baby and bundling him in four layers to go outside, your baby poops just as load him into the car. Yep, surviving that time.
As my son prepares to turn one this week, here are the reasons I’m celebrating… me:
1. I survived spending 12 hours a day alone with a newborn and two sleeping cats.
2. I mastered typing on my phone while breastfeeding. (Even a bigger success in the dark.)
3. After week three, stopped caring that my nipple was known to every waiter and bartender in my neighborhood.
4. Only cried for 5 minutes when I forgot to put on breast pads and my boobs leaked all over Old Navy.
5. My son didn’t ingest any foreign objects severe enough to require an ER visit.
6. I limited middle of the night binge orders on Amazon to twice a week.
7. Figured out how to make baby food and not poison him.
8. Didn’t always buy organic food, and didn’t poison him.
9. I only attended a “few” baby yoga classes for the free childcare.
10. I only fell asleep while breastfeeding every other night (and miraculously never dropped him).
11. My son only peed in my face twice.
12. My son never pooped in the bathtub.
13. My son only face-planted into the Ipad screen once during binge viewing of “Orange is the New Black”.
14. I accepted that poop explosions, OxyClean and laundry replaced girl’s night of wine and cheese.
15. It only took me seven tries to figure out how to use the Bjorn.
Read the rest of the article and comments at Scary Mommy.
Surviving a time when you really thought you might starve your newborn because you forgot to set your alarm to feed him exactly three hours after the last feeding started (which only gave you a 32 minute nap after the feeding took an hour and then took another hour to put the baby to sleep and then 28 minutes for you to fall asleep). Surviving a time when you tried to make lunch plans with a friend and after taking 25 minutes to remember all the stuff you should pack in the diaper bag, spending 50 minutes feeding your baby, changing your baby and bundling him in four layers to go outside, your baby poops just as load him into the car. Yep, surviving that time.
As my son prepares to turn one this week, here are the reasons I’m celebrating… me:
1. I survived spending 12 hours a day alone with a newborn and two sleeping cats.
2. I mastered typing on my phone while breastfeeding. (Even a bigger success in the dark.)
3. After week three, stopped caring that my nipple was known to every waiter and bartender in my neighborhood.
4. Only cried for 5 minutes when I forgot to put on breast pads and my boobs leaked all over Old Navy.
5. My son didn’t ingest any foreign objects severe enough to require an ER visit.
6. I limited middle of the night binge orders on Amazon to twice a week.
7. Figured out how to make baby food and not poison him.
8. Didn’t always buy organic food, and didn’t poison him.
9. I only attended a “few” baby yoga classes for the free childcare.
10. I only fell asleep while breastfeeding every other night (and miraculously never dropped him).
11. My son only peed in my face twice.
12. My son never pooped in the bathtub.
13. My son only face-planted into the Ipad screen once during binge viewing of “Orange is the New Black”.
14. I accepted that poop explosions, OxyClean and laundry replaced girl’s night of wine and cheese.
15. It only took me seven tries to figure out how to use the Bjorn.
Read the rest of the article and comments at Scary Mommy.
