Friday, August 29, 2008

"I'm sorry you're a (insert foul language here*) moron"

This is how I ended a conversation with my husband this evening. The details of why he is a moron need not be repeated since I will most likely start to scream again but let's just say that in approximately 7 years total of marriage (first wife, second wife, yada yada) he has learned nothing. He has an extra special aversion to apologizing. An aversion that will be his ultimate demise.

In other news, Noah? He does not sleep in any regular fashion. I was that mother at first: super confident and very braggy that mah bebe is the best bebe ever! Life took that, chewed it up, and vomited it back in my face all while laughing hysterically. Noah has a switch that basically flips on one day and he is awakeAWAKEawakeAWAKE most of the day and night. And then the switch flips off and he is asleepASLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPasleep all day and night to the point where I end up waking him to eat. Which one book says is akin to washing your colors in hot just don't do it, yo. And yet the same book says an almost 6 week old should eat every 2-3 hours, except at night and when the moon is in Jupiter or the Big Dipper is in the Western sky. BANG, BANG, BANG....sorry, that was me hitting my head against the wall.

If you know me at all, I adore schedules. Routines are my friend. That's not to say I don't like a little impulse action, but in all honesty I appreciate knowing what's coming up next. So this whole fly by the seat of our pants thing we've got going on is just a bit frustrating to me. I know Noah is not quite old enough for a set schedule of feedings and naps and whatnot. I also know that I cannot wait until he is old enough for a schedule. Then I can anticipate when he'll need to be fed rather than going out to lunch with a friend, thinking his belly is full from the feeding before we left the house, and then having to rush to the car with a screaming newborn who demands to be fed AT THAT PRECISE MOMENT and having to nurse him in the back seat. (Let's not even get into nursing in public...I have done it, I am not super duper comfortable with it, capiche?) Or said newborn having a meltdown in Old Navy because he needs to nap right then but his little brain cannot comprehend napping in his stroller, and mama's chubby ass is halfway into a pair of jeans in a size larger than she can even begin to fathom wearing (nope, didn't buy them, just could. not. do. it.).

So, yes. A schedule, a routine, whatever you want to call it, will be much appreciated when it finally happens. Maybe then I won't have to call my husband a moron.

*I only use swear-lite grandmother reads this and has already informed me that she didn't think I knew bad words. Keeping it cool for the grandma.

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