So, in case you haven’t heard: Baby Elizabeth is here. She arrived 3 weeks ago today. When we found out we were having a baby I thought we would cook the little nugget for 9 months and then we would have a baby. What I wasn’t planning on was the gianormous bag of crazy she brought with her. In fact, I have no idea where she was keeping it but the moment she arrived I turned into one giant bag of uncontrollable crazy. And by “crazy” I mean, a hormonal, neurotic germ-a-phobe with little to no patience with anyone that even thinks about touching, breathing, or even looking at our sweet girl without a clear go-ahead from me. I’m embarrassed to admit that “anyone” sometimes even includes her dad (which I know is totally uncalled for since she is his baby too but sometimes I can’t help it.) She’s my little girl. It’s up to me to care for her, raise her, and just generally protect her from the world. Coincidently, those three items (the caring, raising, and protecting) have managed to change me in ways I never thought possible:
Chicken juice. I never really gave chicken juice a second thought before; but now chicken juice is the devil. Every time a piece of chicken makes it into our sink I see those green disgusting bacteria infected cartoons crawling all over our sink and consequently our sweet defenseless baby at bath time.
Crumbs. From the dogs or otherwise, send me over the edge. I mean, what if our sweet baby happens to crawl through all those slobber covered dog food particles on the floor? What’s that? Yes, technically she is still immobile and probably won’t be crawling through the kitchen for months and months but who cares? Let’s get this dog food problem rectified NOW!
Laundry. Let’s get it done! In the past, I’ve H-A-T-E-D laundry. I mean, really loathed washing, drying, hanging up, folding, and putting away clothes. And the idea of spending money on a new set of clothes cleaners just seemed like the WORST. IDEA. EVER. But today, our new washer and dryer were delivered and it feels like Christmas. There is something about folding tiny baby socks and hanging up itsy bitsy onsies that make me feel like a mother. And I love it.
Driving. I have turned into the defensive driver my Dad has probably always hoped for, cause seriously, we have precious cargo and if I happen to be 5 minutes late, what’s the worst thing to happen? Our baby will totally arrive alive! (Yes, I’m all kinds of dramatic these days!)
Efficiency. I used to do things…whenever I got around to it. But now, if something needs to be done; I need to do it now. (See above: “Laundry”) I need to clean up the sink, the dishes, the living room, the nursery. If we need milk, I need to go NOW. If the night light burns out I need to replace the bulb now. I cannot close my eyes until it is done. I find myself getting out of bed 10 times to do one more thing before we go to sleep. The urgency is all consuming.
And finally, the worst and probably the most uncontrollable: The Crying. Not the “I’m sad and depressed” crying. The “I cannot hold myself together because I freaking love this baby more than anything in the world” crying. Some might call it hormones (and that may be true) but I was never prepared for how emotional I would get every time I need to make a decision regarding her care, going back to work, leaving her for an evening (or even a few hours), the need to breastfeed or even how important it is for me to give her a bath every day. A couple nights ago we put her to bed in her crib for the first time and I spent hours just watching the video monitor (tears streaming down my face) making sure she was still ok. I was so relieved when it was time for her first feeding. It just seems so lonely in there at night. And hello, this Lisa Irwin (getting “stolen” out of her crib in the middle of the night) just layers on a whole new level of crazy. I can’t imagine our sweet girl getting stolen out of her crib with us a mere 15 feet away. Hence, the need to watch the baby monitor the entire time she is left alone in her room. (I told you this post was about the crazies, not the logical.)
Hubs has been very patient especially when you consider how inflexible I’ve become. There is no reasoning with me and if I had to guess I would say those are the moments Hubs thinks I’m the craziest. I guess I’m just hoping he is fine with the new inflexible, neurotic, germ-a-phobe he’s living with because as long as we are responsible for this precious ball of sweetness I don’t see myself relaxing anytime soon!
Just look at that face: 
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