Nothing brings the confessions out faster than being a new parent. I can’t be too shy about sharing my parenting faux pas since they’ve become my new reality anyways. There’s no hiding from them! Come wade with me through my dirty laundry pile—literally or figuratively, ‘cause I’ve got a lot of that going on too…
My child is dirty.
Bath time–it’s just not happening, folks. I’d love to work a bath into my son’s bedtime routine, or morning routine, or any routine for that matter. There just don’t seem to be enough hours in the day. Most times, it takes poop up his back and/or spit-up matted in the hair at the back of his neck for us to squeeze a bath in for Baby Boy. It’s sad, but true. I figure the most important parts of him get a good wipe every time he needs a diaper change, so there’s that. But, until we get our acts together a little better, most times he’ll have to settle for a quick full-body wipe-down with a diaper wipe, or the occasional real bath at Grandma’s. I think she’s onto us.
It took Baby Boy scratching a chunk out of his forehead before I took action on his fingernails.
Please don’t call the hygiene police on us! But baby nails? I just can’t. How such tiny little things can be so razor sharp, I don’t know. I suppose it’s a sign of good nutrition that his nails just keep growing and growing, but I simply can’t keep up. They grow, and then they break into awful jagged talons that leave telltale marks all over his face. We tried merely filing them for a while, but that didn’t seem to be effective, or last very long. I was terrified to try clipping his nails early on, so only recently did we break down and buy baby nail clippers. This method is working much better for us, but I feel really bad for letting him scratch himself for so long without trying something different.
I found maternity leave boring.
This is a hard one for me to admit. As much as I was in mommy-bliss over my new son, I was bored. In fact, I believe I was getting depressed spending my days just nursing in front of the television. Taking care of a newborn is draining and demanding, and yet, I felt like I wasn’t doing anything productive. As it turns out, I was offered a new job just weeks into my maternity leave, and I made the decision to cut my leave in half and return to work after just six weeks. Trust me, I felt my fair share of guilt, panic and sadness over leaving my Baby Boy so soon, but part of me was really looking forward to being back in a schedule. As it turns out, Baby Boy and I are both thriving in our new routines. I find my new job challenging, rewarding and fun, and I am proud to provide more for my family than I used to. I think I was meant to be a working mom. Stay-at-home moms: you are my heroes.
I didn’t cry when my son was born.
All signs pointed to that I would, even though I’m not much of a crier. But the process of getting pregnant and then being pregnant had left me emotionally raw. I was so ready to just meet my son and hold him for the first time. I remember feeling immense relief and pride over delivering a healthy baby, but there were no tears. My husband cried, but I couldn’t cry with him. It wasn’t until we were home about a week, when Baby Boy and I were in his nursery alone, skin-to-skin and nursing, that it hit me, and the tears came. I think that was the moment I truly fell in love with my baby.
Any other new moms out there want to join me in my confessions?