Harry Potter meets Pig Pen

The first full day home has been an experience, but I guess that goes without saying.  Stella pretty much cut up all night long.  It’s amazing what you learn and learn quickly.  After feeling a bit cocky about how well-provisioned and prepared we were around here, we were derailed by a lack of small receiving blankets.  Those plush, beautiful blankets are great, but when your kid is screaming and flailing, they will not swaddle appropriately.  As such, last night from 1:00 AM to 5:00 AM was a marathon.  Her (and therefore our) routine went something like this:  scream for a while, eat, poo, eat, fall asleep, and restart the cycle when placed in the cradle for sleeping.  In that 4 hour span of time, at least 5 pooey diapers were generated.  It doesn’t seem possible that something so small can produce such a ghastly amount of waste.  It’s like something out of Harry Potter.  Really.

Today, Stella’s grandmother was dispatched to the store to buy lots of small blankets.  In other news (and forgive the jumping about – between fatigue and hormones, my brain is fried), my feet are revolting.  They have gone from resembling Jimmy Dean sausages to looking just like fluffy pillows.  It turns out when you have a c-section, they have to pump you full of about 8 gallons of extra fluid in order to keep your blood pressure up.  When you add that to the extra 4 gallons of water already on board, things get interesting.  The nurses said it would take at least 2 weeks to de-water to any great degree.  I guess when I have to go out tomorrow for Stella’s inaugural doctor’s appointment, I may have to strap some garbage bags to my feet in lieu of shoes.

It’s also absolutely amazing how that in less than about 6 hours, a baby will completely alter the landscape of your house.  Once upon a time (last week), I kept a rather orderly home.  Sure, it wasn’t spotless (hence my battle of the baseboards during my “nesting phase”), but things were generally clean with things in place.  Will had certain areas that were designated dumping grounds, and the understanding was that he was to maintain those boundaries when building his man-piles.  Otherwise, we did well.  Within hours of our homecoming yesterday, the house had become this massive debris field of baby detritus.  It’s like a baby bomb went off.  It only gets worse with each passing hour.  This is going to be tough to adjust to.  I’m hoping that eventually I’ll be too tired to care.  I’m not there yet.


About larva225

Working mom. Is there any other kind? Geologist. Nerd.
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