My life in a nutshell:
I have been sitting on the couch for a half hour now with my left boob hanging out of my shirt. Why? Because if I put it away, the baby will wake up and scream at me. He’s a tyrant.
You would think that since he is sleeping, I could maybe lay him down, maybe put that boob away and get to work on the dishes that are probably growing mold in the sink (can’t anyone learn to rinse off their fucking plates, like, EVER? Yeah, me neither).
I have baby swaddled in my lap, boob flopped out and nuzzling my son’s face to assure him me or my milk haven’t left him and disappeared forever (even for an infant he is REALLY bad at understanding object permanence… I’m always like, “God, baby! I’m right fucking here! Jeeze. Spatially reason already, amirite?), and my laptop is precariously perched on my knee. I’m also somehow managing to eat Hot Tamales while typing. Why do I not have my job offers flooding in? I’m clearly the most talented person in the world…
But then it hits me… I have to poop. Things are suddenly and ridiculously urgent. I haven’t shit in what feels like a month and then *Poof!* I’m ’bouts to go in my pants.
I have decisions to make. Do I take the baby with me to insure that he continues napping? Do I take the laptop so I can possibly finish this (pointless) blog post? Do I put my boob away or leave it out? Tuck it in or leave it out!?
I don’t bother to question my myself since it’s crunch time. The eleventh hour. Zero hour. The last minute. I tried to delicately place baby in his swing while running away at the same time. I decided I couldn’t take him with me since life with a baby is not run “tit for tat” (hah! pun!). I could not in good conscience get my own shit on my baby in the way that my baby gets his shit on me. Plus there was the hand washing issue. Instead I toted my laptop with me. I’ll worry about sanitation later. Or not. Then I’ll worry about conjunctivitis later. Whatever.
So, you guessed it. I’m pooping right now.
This is my life.
If I want to get anything done, I have to either figure out a way to do it while holding the baby or while I’m shitting.
BAM! Blog post number two DONE!
*I tucked it in. The baby did not somehow sense this and wake up. The child is still peacefully sleeping in his swing and both boobs are back in their holsters. I’m fully prepared for the world to end at any second.