Revelations about mamahood:
The fact that the diapers you love are no longer being made will suddenly become the biggest crisis in the world. And since your world doesn't extend much beyond your front door these days, you can legitimately say, this is the biggest crisis in the world.
Babies don't care about morning breath, coffee breath, the fact that you haven't showered or that you can't sing to save your life. In fact, these are the very things that make your baby recognize you from all the other mamas in the world - or at least you can tell yourself this when you realize you haven't washed your hair in four days and your shirt has three different feedings of dried spit-up on it.
You will not bat an eye at spending a crazy amount of money on the latest, award-winning mentally-stimulating mobile or at handing over even more money to some stranger on the other side of the country for the very last batch of newborn-sized Seventh Generation diapers in the world - but you will spend five minutes in the yogurt aisle trying to decide whether or not it's okay to pay an extra thirty cents for the soy yogurt instead of the regular yogurt for yourself.
You will need to occasionally force yourself to call your child by his given name, lest he grow up and fill in his college applications with "Master Doodle Muffin the first".
Things I will not do: ask my baby permission to touch him, like the woman on the informative "infant massage" TV show said we should do. He's four weeks old, what's he going to say? Sure, mama, and could you warm up the lotion first this time? And while I cursed about the silly "must-have" items I read about before he was born, let me tell you this - I am all over the baby-wipe warmer. It sounds silly, but it will break your heart to hear the curdling scream when you rub cold wipes on your baby's bum at three in the morning - not to mention possibly wake him up, thus increasing the amount of time before you get to go back to sleep. I'm just sayin'.
It's taken me two hours to write this out, and he's crying again, which means at least another hour before I can hit that post button. Revelation: it will take you fifteen times longer to do any normal things anymore - but really, you won't care one single bit.
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