Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Coming soon to the cover of Vogue

The rooting reflex, it is strong in this one.


Once again, more photos up on Facebook. I should just put a permanent link to that photo album at the bottom of each post. Because I obsessively add new photos every single day. Pretty soon Baby Grace will take over Facebook and then rule the world. But my, will she be a cute little tyrant. Much more aesthetically pleasing than Hitler. Or Castro.

Okay, so it's not that I ever though motherhood would be like what you see in People magazine--beautiful celebrities toting around their beautiful babies, looking fresh and rosy and clean all the time. But dude. Nothing prepares you for how disgusting babies are and how unglamorous motherhood is. Things I have done in the last two weeks that I never ever thought I would be able to stomach or shrug off:

  • Picked another human being's nose.
  • Sucked snot out of another human being's nose with a miniature turkey baster.
  • Stuck my finger into another human being's underwear to make sure it's not grossified. Because possibly getting urine on your hand is so much easier and better than having to wrestle the **octopus out of her diaper for nothing.
  • Used my shirt to clean up another human being's spit-up. That burp cloth is just way too far across the room.
  • Accidentally squirted my entire couch and my sister with milk.
  • *Neck folds. Baby neck folds. They look delicious, but oh my heck be careful. No, it doesn't matter if you just bathed the infant. Hand and thigh folds are also DANGER DANGER CAUTION areas.
  • Cleaned an umbilical stump and contemplated ripping it off when it's just barely hanging by a millimeter-thick thread. No, I didn't. Yes, I want to.

There are many more. I'm sure I'll think of them soon, after the mental fog has lifted. In the meantime, I'm going to do some research and find out who invented the bouncy seat. He has a great big kiss and possibly a marriage proposal waiting for him. Even if he is a woman.

*Yes, I know this one ruins the parallel structure of the list. It's bothering me, too. But I couldn't really think of a way to make it work. So we'll all just have to live with it.

**Octopus explanation: If you look very closely at your average baby, he or she appears to have four limbs. If you look even closer, she still appears to have four limbs. But! Your eyes are wrong. Babies have at least eight. Maybe fourteen or more. So, while their torsoes and necks are as floppy as warm jello, their fourteen limbs wave about with the strength of six Clark Kents. This makes dressing and undressing them very difficult. Especially when they are the variety of baby that HATES TO BE DRESSED AND UNDRESSED OH MY GOODNESS WOMAN YOU'RE KILLING ME CAN'T YOU JUST LET ME LIVE IN MY OWN FECES?

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