"Babies are assholes", my Junior Leaguing, pearl-wearing dinner companion last weekend whispered to me conspiratorially, only after looking left & right to ensure no one overheard. "You will never find someone with less regard for your welfare than a newborn."
After nearly falling off my chair from laughter
Before you baby lovers go clutching your burp cloths, appalled at this exchange & how anyone could question the preciousness of wee darling angel baby smooshyfaces, let me remind you that I love Master P with the inextinguishable fire of a thousand suns. It's just that I thought those suns were conspiring to kill me with exhaustion and frustration the first few months of his life.
I should note that those of you who had those angelic newborns who cooed and fell asleep on their own and awoke only to gaze at you lovingly - this post (this blog) is not for you. Thank you for understanding.
Anywhoodle, I've mentioned this before, but I find that every month with Master P gets a little easier & a lot more fun. That fiery independence he's shown from day one - he may look like his daddy, but he gets that dislike of being told what to do from, um, someone else - that made for such struggles when he was a dependent, yet schedule averse newborn, is now evidencing itself in different, mostly wonderful ways.
He's feeding himself and easily dropped bottle-feeding, thrilled to be drinking and dining on his own. He won't let me rock him anymore before he sleeps, preferring to babble and roam around his crib to put himself down. Sure, the mini-tantrums have started brewing when I take away a favorite toy, but - so far - it's enjoyable finally seeing his preferences come out. He's always the first kid to strike off on his own, toddling around in the Toddler Music Class of Hilarious Terror, and the first to attempt to do so in swim class:
|Not at all pleased with Mom's attempts to keep him from flinging himself into the pool|
|Approximately 3 seconds from telling Mom - loudly - exactly how displeased he is with her swim suicide prevention|
|Freed from Mom's cruel restraint, Master P speeds over to the kiddie pool - only to be intercepted yet again.|
The funny thing is, as I've quizzed more people recently, it turns out there are many of us who prefer an older stage of little people - in fact, I'm told by moms of older kids that "It gets better at 3" and "Just wait until he can talk." I'm happy enough with the stage we're at now, but I'm encouraged to hear that I have much to look forward to as well.
Please remind me of this should my ovaries start clack-clack-clacking in want of having another b-a-b-y. Given the conspiracy of unicorns-and-rainbows silence before I had Master P, I expect precisely none of you to say anything, so in exchange I'll let you care for Baby #2 for the first 6 months of his/ her life. Not to worry - I'm kidding. Sort of. Deal?