I have returned from the land of new-mommyhood and am beginning to resume some of my previous activities, modified of course to accommodate a 2 1/2 month old baby.
Lancelot is, as you have noticed if you read the above sentence, 2 1/2 months old. He is laughing, cooing, holding up his head, and starting to reach for objects, and I am the happiest mommy on the face of the planet.
Then, he'll screw up his face, poke out his lower lip, and start wailing. Then I'm the most frustrated mommy on the face of the planet.
That's what is so interesting about motherhood-- it is the happiest of times, and it is the aggravating-est of times.
Can I get an amen?
Fortunately, I am not alone in my new journey. Damselfly has helped me out a great deal, giving me advice, sharing coffee at Starbucks, and going for walks in our local park. I tell ya, it sure helps to have someone else along with you when you become a new mommy. Kind of like having a workout buddy. Strength in numbers, I say.
She told me that I'm not a bad mother because I forgot to buckle up Lancelot's car seat.
She taught me that nuclear explosive poos which are expelled out the back of the diaper and all over a baby's back are normal and are no reason to call the pediatrician.
She showed me how much babies love gadgets like the Rainforest Jumperoo.
Her little Flybaby and Lancelot are going to grow up to be great friends.
And most of all, she listened to me cry and moan when I thought I just couldn't handle this whole mommy thing, because she had been there, too, and assured me it would pass and that I would be a great mommy.
I don't know if I'm a great mommy, but the crying and moaning has indeed passed.