Ode to Sunday mornings of the past. Waking up at 10:35a.m. for 11 o’clock church used to seem like a feat, a feat that made me feel worthy enough to sit in the pews despite the smell of gin and sodas still on my breath. Now, rain or shine, one cocktail or ten cocktails, we are up before 6:45a.m…and my breath smells of coffee and cereal and oh.my.God i’ve been up for 4 hours rather than juniper.
Sunday mornings used to be easy. Getting home from the grocery store before the Panthers’ game started was, by all accounts, a raging success. Now that Jackson is here though, the simplicity that used to be Sunday is no longer. When that 16 lb. human alarm clock goes off, we better be ready to play with toys come hell or high water. As for our afternoon naps of the past, no matter how times we try to get him to snuggle with us–even after darkening the room to the point that he can’t see his toys–he just won’t. It’s a lost cause.
It’s not only Sundays that are harder. It’s showering. And cooking. And cleaning. And going to the bathroom in public bathrooms(I look like Michael Jackson dangling a child over the railing as I hold him out and squat, i assume this is normal?).
Luckily, I have a few things that make my days easier.
- Baby Breeza: A Keurig for baby bottles, a lifesaver for all. When Starvin’ Marvin wakes up, that bottle better be ready within negative 85 seconds. We used to mix the bottle, brew an empty cup of water from the coffee keurig, set the bottle in the hot water and let it warm up. Marvin immediately let us know this was unacceptable parenting. With the press of a button, what used to take 5 minutes now takes 19 seconds. The sheer happiness in his eyes when he hears the machine start lets me know that he forgives me for letting a side table fall on him last week.
- Baby Bjorn bib: The thought of even putting a dirty cloth bib in my washing machine makes me want to buy a new washing machine. The thought is about as repulsive as not having a “feet” end of the blanket. How people gamble and snuggle their faces on what may or may not have been the “feet end” last time is just, well, about as nasty as a dirty cloth bib. Enter the Baby Bjorn plastic bib. It not only catches food that falls (which is close to 46%), but it is plastic. After each meal, I rinse it out in the sink and use a clorox wipe on it. Cleaned and Cloroxed, done and done.
- Doorway Jumper: Without this contraption, there’s a good chance my hair would not have been washed since about April 6th when he outgrew the rock-and-play. I hang it from the doorframe next to the shower. I’m genuinely intrigued what other people do who don’t have this–not shower? Strap them to the toilet? I also use it in the kitchen to cook dinner, unload groceries, load the car, and count my freckles/do anything and everything as long as this monkey is happy being strapped into something.
Besides those three things (and a “feet end” end of the blanket), the only other thing that makes my days easier is the smile on his face when he wakes up. No matter how many times I want to cut off the monitor and swear I didn’t hear anything, the second I walk in and see that smile, it’s the best day of my life all over again. I may not be ready to play “find the instrument that this sound makes” on the learning cube at 6 a.m., but at least I know I can shower, have a clean bib, successfully make bottles, and spend the day with my best friend.