Love Lockdown

I feel obligated to mention that the McDonald’s cups got moldy not because we’re festering piglets, but because free supersize cups aren’t all that sturdy in the dishwasher and hence, get moldy. Surprise! You cannot build a cup arsenal from Subway, Moe’s and McDonald’s! We have other cups/glasses, clearly, but I have a thing for the 32-ounce beverage — no ordinary glass with quench my thirst, no sirree bob. Sometimes I’ll drive through McDonald’s JUST FOR THE CUP.

This also explains why I end up going to the bathroom with a baby attached to my chest multiple times in the night. Oh please, you’ve all done it. Um, right?

One of the (albeit stupid) observations I’ve had about parenthood is that when you’re faced with a really tough conundrum, no one can really help. No one can say, here, THIS — this is the right thing to do. Do this, and it will be fine. It’s patently unfair, really.

You guys, I have some LINGERING RAGE to discuss. Before I had Samantha, I read every baby book under the sun. The Whisperers! The Wise People (OMFG)! The Happiest Baby People! And mostly, I want to kill them, because I can’t help but wonder if these people have had Actual Babies, or if they just practiced on a litter of pugs. Honestly, if I could have three rounds in a ring with anyone, it would be The Baby Whisperer, who … well, good Christ, if she calls me “luv” one more time while she tells me how E.A.S.Y. this is, I’m going to hunt her down myself and carve it into her ass with a razor blade.

I remember a while back when Linda wrote this super-controversial post for Parent Dish (yeeeeeah), wherein she admitted that she was having a hard time conjuring up love for Dog after Baby. And, at the risk of bringing out the same brand of crazy, I have to confess: me too. It’s not that I don’t love her — I do, so very much — but you guys, I spend 24 hours a day with an infant attached to me in one form or another, and MY GOD, really, Sunny? Do you have to try to nurse? Must you sit on my shoulder while Sam eats? Do you ever stop licking? Do you HAVE to eat diapers? No, really, DO YOU HAVE TO EAT DIAPERS?

Sigh. It all makes me feel terribly guilty, because before Sam was here, she was our baby. I practically carried her around in a sling, for God’s sake, and now every other word out of my mouth is “Sunny NO! NO!” But really, I can’t imagine who wouldn’t lose their patience after wandering around the house for the five-hundredth time, scooping up gelled-up poopy diaper remains from the carpet after the crafty little minx knocked over the diaper pail and ATE THE CONTENTS.

I’m going to go ahead and assume that this isn’t what it’s like to have a second kid right? Or … is it? Because if it means I’m going to want to throttle Samantha on an hourly basis the way I do my beloved little Sunbun (I love her! I do!), I’m done having kids, even though I feel quite strongly that the answer to “Is everybody here?” is “Definitely not.”

And finally, I’ll leave you with a video you may have seen before, but it illustrates the hell I’ve been enduring for DAYYYYS OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU SUNNY BUT PLEASE STOP BEING SO CRAFTY WITH THE DIAPERS.

(In this case, uh, however, I left them out. Smooth!)

Diaper vs. Pug from Jonna & Adam on Vimeo.

*Kanye West

52 comments May 20th, 2009