At about 9, I changed and nursed a surprisingly fussy little girl. When I lifted her to my shoulder to burp, I was pleased to hear a big one. And then I felt something warm run DOWN. MY. BACK. Oh, and wait. In my hair. All over my pillow. All over the sheets. I wiped everything off and got dressed. Then I brushed out my solidified hair. Whatever. I think part of being a mommy is that you smell like barf most of the time. Still, there's nothing like a little barf in your butt-crack first thing in the morning, right?
New mothers often wonder why babies cry so much, and can't sleep for long stretches without requiring their parents' input. I don't wonder anymore. I know why. Babies require regular input because mothers must not be allowed to sleep for long periods of time. Certainly they must never be allowed to sleep and sleep until they have enough and are fully rested. And this is why: If a mother allowed her body to sleep until it woke up of its own accord, she would starve to death.
There is a pickle on my bed-side table. (Yeah! Go on and digest that, internets!) The baby, she likes her pickles, so she does. The other day, we went upstairs for her nap and I found clutched in her little hand, a grimy pickle. I removed it and uhm, it's still on my nightstand. Albeit a tiny, tiny bit shriveled. (Am thinking of keeping it. And naming it Ernie. Maybe I'll knit it a wee sweater.)
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