I'm getting the impression from comments and emails that I have gotten that I am making this motherhood gig look easy so now I'm going to tell you about the past 48 hours which will demonstrate that I don't know sh** about being a mother.
Wednesday Maggie decided to be a crabster all day. She literally was screaming at one point and I could not figure out what her deal was so for the first time, I put her in her carseat and went for a drive to do some errands. The errands could have waited but I took full advantage of the fact that the car puts her to sleep. That night she was not any better and decided that she was going to be in a pissy mood from 1-3 AM. She also started spitting up after eating for the first time, which commenced at 2 AM in a huge puddle of spit up traveling from my shoulder down between my boobs, collecting in my nursing bra that had already gathered more than it's fair share of milk stains. I sort of dabbed it up with the burp rag but really just left it...I was that tired. In the morning, you can imagine how lovely I smelled.
Yesterday she was having lots of tummy issues and continued spitting up for the first half of the morning. During the afternoon, I was scheduled to get a haircut. I went to the haircut with about 10 bobby pins holding up my rats nest. I came back with a sleek bob and to a relatively happy baby...until midnight. Then she decided to fuss on and off until 6 this morning. OH MY GOD. Can we say walking zombie? Because that's what I am. On top of that, I am still having postpartum bleeding that was all over my underwear and pants this morning. I just let out an exasperated, "REALLY?!". Do I attend to the screaming baby that is at my boob (which is leaking milk all over her) or my bloody lower half?!
As today has progressed, the tummy issues seem to have resolved but Mags has yet to sleep for longer than 10 minutes. Just when I am almost asleep, she wakes up. Sigh.
So there you go - proof that we do not in fact have the perfect baby and I am not even close to winning mother of the year.