on motherhood (so far)

over the past 3.5 weeks i've come to the conclusion that having kids seems so normal until it happens to you. and then it's this crazy, surreal, magic mountain roller coaster ride of your life. all the peeing and pooping and nursing (let's talk about that pain for a second shall we? ouch!) and bouncing and burping...it's just nuts! not to mention the way these tiny people just absolutely take your heart and swallow it whole. i've never even heard this little man say hello to me (but his little squeaks and squeals sort of sound like hello sometimes) and yet, he's a regular casanova over here. heart stealer, love of my life. it's serious. in the words of PapaBear: i could just live inside his mouth. cause it's so dang adorable.

and so i've realized, this is a real club i've joined. like in What to Expect When You're Expecting — isn't that just the best movie ever? and not just because it's on netflix and i'm glued to the couch with no free arms for all hours of the day (and night). i mean, the Dudes Club? i totally get it now. you've never really loved until you've wiped someone's butt. although i'm pretty sure i loved wilder before i wiped his butt (30 million times). and once you've wiped their butt, you've pretty much handed over your heart and soul for all eternity. oh, and your body.

this is the Prime Meridian of life right now. there is no time. there is no sleep. there is no shower. there is no cleaning the house. there is just boobs, pee, poop, boobs, burp, sleep, boobs, cry, poop, boobs. and maybe some instagramming;)

as i was watching loverboy colic-hold wilder last night (and the night before and the night before...) during a four hour nursing/crying marathon, i realized that even though the hardness of all this might make me cry tears, i am happier taking care of this little guy than i would be doing anything else. this is a hard that i cherish. even when i'm wishing for a magic pill to make things easier, i am still ecstatic to be here. i am happy. i am in love. it's impossible to adequately put words to this experience (though i'm obviously trying). it is a dream. it is a cream puff of a dream. a trip to paris, a pain au chocolat avec un cafè in bed, baskets of puppies, miniature donkeys on a farm, tea parties with my family, sunsets on the beach, candlelit bubble baths, fields of pale pink ranunculus, rain on a summer afternoon, dancing at midnight on cobblestone streets kind of dream. but better. it is the poopiest, burpiest, milkiest, sleepiest, fussiest dream of a dream to end all dreams dream. if that doesn't explain it i don't know what will.

sometimes i think it will be so great when wilder is six weeks old, when hopefully we have some of the kinks and fusses worked out. but most of the time, i think i could bounce on this medicine ball, listening to frère jacques on repeat, holding 8 pounds of pure fussy bliss (and holding my bladder)  for the next 6 years and be completely happy.


xx