Motherhood is a breeze. Having three children is easier than I ever dreamed. So easy, in fact, that every three weeks or so, I have five spare moments to write a blog.
I’m not sure what I thought would be so difficult about it. Surely not being up all night nursing an infant while your middle child fights a fever and stomachache, and you yourself are stricken with violent diarrhea. “Sorry you’ve only been nursing for 20 seconds, Nina, but Mommy has to poop and NOW.”
Surely not going out on a date to Los Cabos with just your husband and newborn and eating the world’s greasiest chicken taco with your right hand and holding a fussy baby in your left. Nina’s favorite pink blanket will remain forever stained.
Surely not writing just seven sentences on your blog, then having to get out of your chair to comfort the crying baby that you just spent 20 minutes getting to sleep. I’m back!
Surely not spending the entire 3am hour trying your darnedest to get your gassy baby to burp. Who says people can’t survive on three hours of sleep for infinite nights in a row? I’m doing just fine, thank you.
Surely not changing your baby on the floor, making sure to put a diaper under her in case she pees, and being the target of an explosive projectile liquid poop, not unsimilar to a horizontal erupting volcano. Picture a squeeze bottle of mustard lying on its side, open. A big man takes a running leap and lands on the mustard bottle. That’s how big and fast and yellow it was. Gabe has pictures.
And sadly, I cannot remember one single more event that transpired in the last month. I cannot remember anything. Not my children’s names. Not simple vocabulary words. Not the time of day or what I opened the refrigerator for. I only pray that my loss of brain functioning is temporary.
Thanks for all of you who check back regularly and wondered when in the world I would write again. I’ll talk to you all again in March-ish.