Category: TSM

I was foolish to think, “Not my baby.” He’s a good boy and knows he’s only supposed to poop in his diaper. How naive. How foolish.

I should’ve realized when he was making funny faces as I undressed him that something was up, but I was tired and wanted to get him squared away so I could shower myself.

Once he stopped splashing around, I realized what was coming, and there was no way to get ahead of it. I just had to let it happen. The look of joy and relief on his face was so sweet and relatable that getting mad wasn’t an option. Honestly, being mad at an infant is never an option.

My solution was to take him out of the tub and clean it before putting him back in.

My husband’s solution was to hose it, wash the boy and call it done it. Since the baby started shivering while we cleaned out the poop, we did it his way…and the tub didn’t get properly cleaned for another week…💩

With a new little one at home, finding time for myself is hard. This was most apparent a couple of weeks ago when my little guy tagged along as I got a mani/pedi ahead of Thanksgiving.

For the most part, my little dude is well-behaved. He’s easily entertained, so taking him along wasn’t a huge inconvenience. While I got my pedicure, he sat in my lap, and we took selfies with the AR emojis.

The dilemma came when it was time for my manicure. God bless the inventor of the gel manicure. I was done and dry in time for him to tell me that he’d had enough of this place and wanted to go.

Was it as relaxing a trip as I’d hoped for? No. Did I get done what I needed to get done? Yes.

But does it still count as taking care of myself if the baby tags along? To the multitasking mama, which we all are, yes. Totally. Killed two birds with one stone. To the mama who needs an hour to herself every once in a while (again, all of us), most definitely not.

And before you ask, my husband was being a good son and helping his dad out with something that couldn’t possibly wait until I came back or until the next day.😏

Everything about babies is tiny and cute. We cry over their ten little fingers and their ten little toes. We squeal over the cute little outfits. Looking back on how tiny my son’s first pair of socks is, makes my eyes well with tears. I also roll my eyes in frustration because, more often than not, I only have one foot to look at.

Soon after our little guy was born, my husband (who does all the laundry, God love him) realized that to keep the cute little socks, we needed to buy a garment bag to wash them in. If you weren’t already doing that, you’re welcome for the tip.

Having solved the “losing the sock in the wash” conundrum, we thought we were in the clear. That is until we would go out to run errands and come home only to realize that somewhere on our journey, we lost a sock.

I’ve tried to be as vigilant as possible, but sometimes a sock just has to be free to roam wherever it fell off or was pulled off my son’s foot.

The other day, I stayed in the car while my husband ran into the store to grab something. I looked at my son in the back seat and noticed he had no socks. My husband had dressed and put him in the car seat, so I wasn’t sure he’d actually had socks on when we left the house. Upon returning to the car, my husband couldn’t remember if he had put socks on the baby or not. At our next stop, we were both happy to see that he did, in fact, have socks. They’d just slipped (or were pulled off) his feet and fell onto the car’s back seat.

Final errand complete, we made it back to the car proudly with both socks. When we got home, I opened the car’s back door not only to find the socks off my son’s feet, but one was dangling from his mouth. We just looked at each other and laughed.

At least they made it home…🧦

Sucking, pulling, and nibbling aren’t just for foreplay anymore, ladies. In fact, it’ll be hard to do those things with your hubby/baby daddy again without a vague thought f your precious little one, especially in the early days of breastfeeding.

Once you get past the breastfeeding days, if that’s the route you decide to take, teething begins. The days almost bleed into each other, really. From the Boob to the Finger: The Early Days of Feeding Baby should be a book for new moms.

My little guy has been an aggressive eater from day one. He went after my boobs voraciously; he started holding his bottle on his own practically from the moment we first gave it to him, and now that his gums are prepping for his baby teeth, he will gnaw on anything from my index finger to my chin. And nothing beats mama’s appendages, no matter what teething toys we try! And with the chewing comes the drool, but that’s a completely different post.

Every time I sit with my finger in his mouth, I can’t help but think about my brothers’ dog and how he used to maul his dinosaur squeak toy. We had to replace it on three different occasions because he would go at it until it was ripped to shreds, and the squeaker ended up on the other side of the room.

Motherhood now has me empathizing with a chew toy. This wasn’t covered in all the books and blogs I read in preparation for my baby’s arrival. Well, I’m here to tell you that feeling like a chew toy is 100% normal.

You’ve just had your baby shower. You’ve received all that gear you spent hours researching and comparing, and adding to your registry. You even got a few things you didn’t register for. With every box you open, there is another postcard to send back to the manufacturer to ensure you get the recall notice just in case the stroller/crib/bassinet isn’t as safe as they thought before it went to market.

This is just the beginning of all the forms you must fill out for your child. Between these, the insurance forms and the million pages of questions required to get a social security number.

As your baby gets older, you’ll begin planning playdates. This is when you realize you’re not just his mother. You’re his personal secretary.