Someday you will wake up and realize you are disgusting. You will open your eyes and the realization will hit you like a 40 ton diaper pail- you, bitch, are fucking gross.
Why? Because you used your shirt as a burp cloth some time in the wee hours of the morning. You were laying on your back, baby on your chest, and you were trying to burp your child after nursing. You knew it was going to happen, because it always does, but you were exhausted… so you burped him lying down. As always, he inevitably threw up on you. The puke rolled like a tide– down your boobs and up to your throat. Only then did you have the energy to bolt up in bed so you didn’t drown in your baby’s sick. You used your clothes to clean up the amazing amount of puke. You felt good that you obviously produce enough milk. Cling to this information. It’s all you have to keep you going.
Today had such potential to be a good day. The sun is shining, it is above 50 degrees out there and I was ready to make a good day of it.
Gabe, however, had other plans…
It started out brilliantly. I woke up, had coffee and Gabe was being a real doll–not fussing, playing happily and just, in general, being a good baby. It felt like the perfect opportunity to go run some errands, and by running errands, I mean “go to Walmart,” as usual. Now, I’m not a ‘Mart fanatic. I’m a mother. I have limited time and resources. If I can make one trip, I better make it count. So, out of sanity-saving necessity, I go to the Mart. I hate the Mart, I do. But, shit, girllll, they got e’rthang!
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.