The McFussy* slept for six hours straight last night! It was incredible! Granted, four of those hours were in our bed, but I’m not going to be particular.
There’s no way to imagine what parenting is like before actually doing it. While you’re pregnant you often think you’re planning for things and reading up on how to do various baby-caring tasks. It doesn’t matter. Just spend that time sleeping and watching reruns of Survivor. You’ll be just as prepared for baby, because there is no way to prepare.
For example:
Pregnancy: You have the pretty changing table all painted and ready. You’ve purchased the brand-name diapers that claim “no leaks.” You have the wipes and the diaper genie. You’ve placed the most important items to the right, your dominant side, at approximately one-half-inch apart for easiest access and aesthetically pleasing presentation. You have extra onesies at hand in the case of a diaper explosion. Everything is as it should be, and you’re ready.
Baby Reality: When you bring The McFussy to the elaborately prepared changing table, you notice a stain on the front of the onesie she’s wearing. Oh god. You unbutton the onesie and pull it up to find a landslide of feces soaking the onesie and The McFussy and OH GOD, WHERE’S THE DIAPER? You can’t even see the diaper through the coating of McFussy poop, which The McFussy slams her hand into as she begins screaming about your slow incompetence in changing her. The only option is to call for assistance, and god help you if there isn’t anyone else home. “Help! Come in here, I need help! And bring the scissors!” Your spouse runs in to find you holding The McFussy up by one foot, your other hand trying to control the maelstrom of feces-covered, flying McFussy hands. If someone were to walk in a minute later, they’d find one of you holding the baby’s hands and feet a la hog-tying, and the other trying to maneuver the onesie and diaper off while gagging into a bag.
Mike insisted on cutting the onesie off because there was no way to get it over her head without getting poop all over her face. I think this is hilarious, but I guess I can’t think of an alternative. I fear for the rest of her wardrobe, though.
I suppose The McFussy knew what trouble she had caused yesterday, because today she rewarded me with her first smiles!
*Hilarious moniker credit goes to my mother-in-law. (Or my sister-in-law? New parents are exempt from the responsibility of keeping facts straight.)
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