Thirtysomething

Five Things I Unexpectedly Hate About Having a Kid

1. Fingernails.
And toenails for that matter, too. Impossible to cut. Or possible, as long as you're okay with taking the tip of your baby's finger off too. We used to be able to do it if Rolo was sleeping, but he never falls asleep while laying on us anymore, only in his crib. I try filing them down instead but he HATES it. Rarely does he throw a total coniption fit about anything, but he does about someone filing or cutting his nails. And nails grow like weeds. I'll commend myself on finally having wrestled with him and getting them filed short, and then like 2 days later they need to be done again.

2. The word "yet".
At the risk of sounding overly sensitive, the word yet is something I've grown to resent somewhat. So many people ask "Is he talking yet?" "Is he walking yet?" "Is he solving algebra problems yet?" It's annoying. Just leave off the word "yet" when asking the question.

3. Lack of Sleep.
I know, I know. You're probably thinking "What drug is she on that a lack of sleep wasn't expected?" It's not that I didn't expect. It's just that I expected it in the beginning. You know, the first few months. I am very, very lucky that Rolo started sleeping through the night, a whooping 10 or 11 hours straight, when he was 3 months old. But he'll have bouts of waking up in the middle of the night for a couple of nights in a row every once in awhile. I'm totally spoiled, but getting up in the middle of the night now irks me like nothing else.

4. Poop.
Again, what the hell am I thinking that poop is somehow unexpected? It's not. There is lots and lots of poop. In the beginning when your kid is having total blowouts and you're not so good at changing diapers, you wind up wearing more poop than you ever thought was humanly possible, but you're so tired you barely even care that you're a walking waste site. Then as the months pass your kid starts sleeping through the night, you get more rest, you start wearing clothes that match again, and despite mastering the art of diapering, you still occasionally, not often, manage to get a streak of poo on your hand. Or forearm. And it hits you: "There is another person's feces on me." You suddenly realize how very wrong this is, and regardless of the fact that it's your own kid (and despite how much hand/forearm washing you do), it becomes clear that no person should ever wear another person's poo.

5. Formula.
Seriously, for someone who never thought she'd breastfeed, you would think formula would be my best friend. But no. It's gross. It smells gross, it gets all over the counter and creates this paste that's nearly impossible to clean. It doesn't mix well with cold water. All of Rolo's dietary/allergy issues started when he started on formula. Not that that's a cause and effect thing, but it aggravated me just the same.

Labels: not the mama, parenting, Rolo

posted by DJ Heavy D @ 10:11 AM