17 Things I Do Now

1. Chart Todd's naps, including date, place, and duration.

2. Clean my bathroom on Saturday night.

3. When I’m planning to exercise the following morning, I go to sleep with the workout DVD already in the player, and my workout clothes on. Then when my alarm goes off I hit the snooze 6-8 times and get up 20 minutes before class starts. 

4. Sleep with a watch on.

5. Get unnaturally excited about renting a self-storage unit. 

  Be forewarned. The next time you talk to me, I’m probably going to spend the first 10 minutes gushing about our newly acquired self-storage unit. Todd and I move all the time, which means we never really live anywhere. At our present locale, we don’t have a basement, attic, or garage, which means our bikes are in our bedroom and we use Rubbermaid Totes as end tables. 

  But not anymore. 

  Upon deciding to rent out a storage room, we became giddy, running around our apartment, picking up anything: a bowling ball, tomato stakes, garbage bags of newborn onesies. What about this? Can we put this in storage?! Nothing was safe. I coud write a whole blog post on how important I deem storage, not to mention the mental clarity I achieve when I feel a space de-cluttered of seasonal items. 

6. Order socks off Amazon.

7. Order a Chinese earpick with a flashlight attachment off Amazon.

8. Sympathize with Kim Kardashian.

9. Critique the footwear choices of TV Moms.

I did this before. Now I’m just louder about it because I think I have more credibility.

10. Entertain nightmare scenarios for Mae, e.g. explaining Moses was not one of the Founding Fathers, even though her Texas school book says so.

  During a discussion on abortion (What was I thinking?!) in my class, one of my students said, “If she can lie on her back for a man, she can lie on her back for a baby.” When I got home I cracked open a fresh box of wine, clutched Mae, and sat on the floor listening to Mary Lambert. My knee jerk reaction is to home school her, forever, on a boat that we sail around the world together.

11. Google rhetorical questions, e.g. “Babies can’t choke on liquids, right?”

I’ve made Todd promise that when I die the first thing he should do is delete my history. Perhaps in this age this goes without saying, but I needed a verbal commitment from him. It’s too important, and not because my history is weird; it’s more like a painful museum of neuroses, and no one needs to see that.

12. Engage in lengthy discussions about humidifiers, car seat regulations, and the nuances of infant bowel movements, late at night with Todd over red wine.

13. Ask for glass food storage containers for Christmas.

14. Hum “Hickory Dickory Dock” to myself.

15. Do all my work on the floor while the cats nap in our leather recliner.

16. Order Japanese hair wax for men off ebay.

I’ve been searching for the perfect hair product for years, and I finally found it: in Asian convenient stores. It isn’t sold in America, but it’s so worth it. Without it my hair looks and feels like shag carpeting.

17. Get jacked up about donating platelets.

It’s. The. Best. You sit with your feet up for an hour and a half, watch a movie and intermittently request snacks and drinks. It’s like a manicure but better because you don’t have to make small talk. It is also a healthy civilian task to complete that makes me feel like a superhero.

The Myth of "Sleep When She Sleeps" and "Let the Housework Go"

During my oft-bitched about maternity classes, I distinctly remember watching a video where a beautiful, ethnically ambiguous woman sat at a table nibbling an apple between sips of tap water. Her baby, resting in a bouncer at her feet, calmly read Dostoyevsky while wearing a monocle. (The three-month mark is a great time to introduce the Russian novelists. If your baby isn’t quite there yet, hopefully you are reading this blog on your phone while you wait in your pediatrician’s office! Don’t worry, though, I’m sure everything’s fine…)

The video was meant to illustrate several things, such as what to eat so you don’t suck as a mom. My classmates and I all nodded to ourselves and took notes. I wrote down “Don’t shotgun a Coke over the sink while boiling water for Ramen noodles.” And, I swear to you, I have stuck to that. I think it’s good advice to eat well. I have a bit of a problem, however, with some of the other pieces of advice.

Sleep When She Sleeps and Let the Housework Go must just be words people say to women when they are nine-months pregnant with their first child so they leave maternity classes feeling assured. I clung to that advice because it made me really happy. Then I had a baby and realized it was all bullshit.

Mae and I eating dinner.

When Mae takes a nap, I naturally spend the first 15 minutes panicking about everything I have to do. Then I ask myself how long I’ve been wearing the clothes I have on. If it is more than a day, I scan for vomit. If I don’t find any, I count that as a success and move on. Am I hungry? Probably. Actually, always. (I don’t eat full meals anymore, unless you count Todd hand-feeding me tacos while I nurse Mae in an armchair.) So I shove a Clif Bar in my mouth and eat it like I am being timed for a contest. Next, I probably have to pump so Todd has a couple bottles to accomodate Mae’s adorable appetite while I’m at work the next day. This is fine though because I can just stand at my kitchen counter and grade papers while hooked up to the vaguely Medieval machine that is my breast pump. You know what? While I’m here I might as well do some calf raises.

Let the Housework Go? When we say that, do we just mean let the housework that you only do every 4-6 months anyway go? Or the housework you only do if someone you’ve never met before is coming over? Like Michelle Obama? Because then I understand. Like, I’m not going to be dusting my ceiling fan until Mae graduates. With her doctorate. But the rest of the housework? How can you not do that? Mae wears clothes and takes a bottle. She also breathes air and needs a place a sleep. All of this means that I cannot let the housework go, at least not in a way that would be beneficial to me in terms of time. 

You know what me and Todd do in order to remain calm and collected? We don’t let the housework go and we don’t sleep when she sleeps. Two words: cocktail hour. Readers of my previous blog will not be surprised. I’m drinking right now, and Mae is resting peacefully. I have frozen bags of breast milk stacked precariously in my freezer. Let me tell you: makes everything go down a lot smoother. It must be why Roosevelt did it as well.

What I've Learned So Far

Here’s what I’ve learned about parenting so far:

Time doesn’t pass the same way it once did. Now, I’ll be like “My feet are hot. I should take my socks off.” Then six days will pass and suddenly I’m in line at the store buying vodka and cake mix. Hahaha! Just kidding. I don’t have time to make cake from a box! Also, I live in Oklahoma where byzantine alcohol laws prevent liquor and cake mixes from being sold side by side, as nature intended. Those of you who live anywhere else, except Pennsylvania, be grateful for the ease at which you can buy beer, wine, and liquor. Sometimes I have to go to three separate stores if I need to buy gin, tonic, and limes. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find the time to buy alcohol when you have a newborn? 

Not yet.

I thought I was good at multitasking before. That was amateur hour. Now, I possess Jedi Master-like skills when it comes to multitasking. I did not choose this. Rather, it chose me. Today Todd came home and I was sitting on the floor eating cold pizza, watching a documentary about India, bouncing Mae in her little bouncer seat with my foot, and pumping breast milk. If I had really been on my game I would have thrown in a little bit of exercise, maybe some bicep curls, but I couldn’t reach my weights from where I was sitting. Rookie mistake.

Nothing else matters anymore, not even Project Runway. Okay, that’s a lie. I love Project Runway, and I will try my hardest to watch it when it’s on, even if Mae is screaming a lot. 

No one should ever judge parents for anything they do, except when they do something clearly horrible, like buy a swaddler with dump trucks on it FOR THEIR DAUGHTER. This is my checklist for successful parenting:

Is your baby asleep?

Yes? Great news: you’re doing better than most.

No? I’m so sorry. Want me to spoonfeed you a cocktail?

How does anyone, like, anyone, have more than one of these adorable suckers? Three? Four? FIVE??? When you have that many, do you just hope they start parenting one another? Today our cat was forced to take a 13 hour nap in my dresser drawer because I didn’t realize she was in there when I shut the drawer. Later that day, when Todd and I realized we hadn’t seen said cat, I felt a little bad, but mainly I was like, well, she’s a cat. Parenting is REALLY demanding; I’m sure the cat understands. Also, if we hadn’t seen our baby in 13 hours we definitely would have noticed. Sometimes if Todd and I are really on top of things, you know, if we've slept for a good 30 minutes, drank a gallon of coffee and quickly eaten a hot dog over the sink, we sometimes remember what month it is. 

My concept of entertainment has changed dramatically. Ever watched America Ninja Warrior without the sound on while you respond to student emails and try to get a baby to fall asleep? It’s not that bad. Also did you know there is show called Last Call with Carson Daly on at 12:30? After Seth Myers? Did you know Seth Myers’ show is pretty good? Did you know Carson Daly is still alive? Did you know that AFTER THAT they show Kathie Lee and Hoda again?

I have a lot of opinions about infant sleepwear and what constitutes gender neutral animals on infant sleepwear. Ducks? Totally girls. Elephants? Could go either way.

I’ve become very critical of family-centric sitcoms.

Stay Tuned For Future Topics, Which Include: How to Pump Breast Milk At Work and I’m Using Cloth Diapers Merely to Spite the Godless, Price-Gouging Swine Who Make Disposables.