Transition Period

Right so the last few weeks have been an adjustment of the highest order.

I finally have some time to myself while my offspring coos at a wall instead of napping after his feed and Matt is playing the new Fifa. I was dumb last night and, in a mood, and closed down my laptop so my game didn’t finish downloading overnight but when I woke up and realised what I’d done I was also too tired to get up and remedy my problem so that I might now be playing said game.

When Matt and I got home from our day out on the weekend I was at the end of my rope. I was touched out and tired of being needed.

It also didn’t help that the demon spawn had poo-namied twice that day. Once twenty minutes before we had visitors and the second after we got home and I was getting ready to fire up the discord and talk shit with some total strangers. And they were both while we were in the same position. Him leaning back against my legs just as he finished his feed.

I was very grateful that day that my active wear leggings were what I chose to wear. Very easy to wipe down.

Less grateful that they are part of my limited options at the moment because I’m still holding onto some of that baby weight and I refuse to buy more clothes just to fit me during this transition period.

I am determined that it be a transition period.

So I have sound cancelling head phones and I have to keep taking off one side because I think I hear the baby screaming.

Nope wait…that’s Matt. He’s yelling back at the baby.

Ffs.

You know…whatever works for him that results in me having some time to myself.

Back to…something I was discussing earlier.

I now understand the frustration of the explosive poop.

There was one day where he needed 5 outfit changes. Those were just a leaky tap compared to the poo-nami that he presented me with in the middle of the night.

Let me set the scene.

It had already been a day and a half. It was 8.30pm and Matt had conked out almost an hour earlier.

I was awake because I didn’t go to sleep. He was due for another feed anywhere between 9 and 10 at night so it wasn’t far away. I thought I’d get a pump in after his feed. 10.30 rolled around and he still wasn’t awake so maybe I could pump before he woke up and then feed him.

While pumping the Haakaa pump (a suction cup doohickie) decided to lose suction which resulted in a …phallic shaped wet spot.

I had dried milk on my leg and no will power left.

All of this conveniently coincided with Predator finally deciding he was hungry.

Got him fed and burped and it was as I undid the buttons of his onesie to change his nappy that I saw it.

The tidal wave of baby poop coming out of one leg of his diaper. Thankfully it was all contained in his onesie and had not leaked through, but it was ALL up in it, even up his singlet and this kid was determined to do his damndest to get his foot in his poop.

I tried calling out to Matt for help. He even responded with a “yes” when I yelled out for him to come and give me a hand holding down the epileptic octopus before he got poop on the walls.

He did in fact not mean his yes. I don’t think he ever actually fully gained consciousness.

I however unlocked another parenting achievement that night. Cleaning up a ridiculous poo related mess without dropping the diaper, the baby or just yeeting myself into oblivion.

As a side note for that Haakaa pump, it was great in the beginning, very useful straight out of hospital. However, after the dozenth time that it lost suction in the middle of the night and Matt woke up to me literally crying over spilt milk, I gave up on it. I could only end up in a puddle so many times before I lost my shit.

As an extra side note, you would not believe how mad I was that when I helped Matt put the baby carrier on, I didn’t have to loosen the waist at all.

Now based on my previous comments we can assume the reason.

However, for my own peace of mind and feelings the reason I didn’t have to adjust the waist of the baby carrier is because Matt has a tiny lady waist.