Yes. Thank you, strangers, for your wise, wise wisdom.
First of all, should he be sleeping, ever? If so, should it be at night? Should I keep him in a bassinet or crib or should I let him just sleep in the yard, or the toaster? And when he sleeps, should I just let him sleep as long as he wants, or should I wake him up every fifteen minutes or so for a “baby party” where I give him hard candies and play loud music? Being a new parent is confusing, and there aren’t any books or internets about it, that’s why I have to rely on kind strangers like you.
In the last three weeks:
I made Eric stay up too late painting the officesery this icy blue with me. The sun started staying up later too. I turned 30 and fell in love with this tissue paper. Brooklyn got pretty again. We made these blocks for the baby and finally got our Etna maps framed and hung, along with the sailboat mobile, which Eric keeps pronouncing mo-bull. I visited Eric at work. We finished baby supply shopping, mostly. I continued to get huge, continued to love my favorite coffee shop in the world, continued to love the smell of rosemary.
I don’t think I’ve counted days this far out since childhood Christmases.
Anyway, here’s where we are: 10 new inches around my waist; about 14 new pounds there too. It’s a little frightening to think how much I’ll add to those two columns in the remaining 2016 hours.
Unrelated, Eric brought me this last night at almost 9:00, and I was all, that’s so dorky but awww, but it turns out that “baby” cupcake was intended for someone to buy for Valentine’s Day. So now scratch the awww. That’s so dorky.
Today my baby-doctor asked me if I knew what a uterus was. Which was very confusing because a) he was in the process of measuring mine, and b) What? Who doesn’t know what a uterus is? He followed that with, “What about womb?”
“Uh, they’re interchangeable.” I said. “Womb’s the religious version.”
I didn’t manage to ask him why he was asking me because I was still dizzy from the glucose solution I’d guzzled twenty minutes earlier, which basically tasted like thick, fruitish poison and made my body feel like surely the Mayans were right.
I imagine he brought it up because one of his dumber patients asked him once, in a voice like Olive Oyl’s, “Hey Doc, what’s my lady business called?”