What has 2 thumbs and isn't deaf? This guy.

Hey there little bear, why the long face?


I'm deaf.

Oh.

Wait, how did you know that I asked you a question.

That's right! I must not be deaf then! Phew.

Well. Congrats.

Toot toot, fire's over here guys

I love my dad's hands

Witchy see, Witchy do: mothers, write!

Six months have passed and the wailing newborn has morphed into a wailing infant, able to scream, giggle, and throw things at will.


And me? I too have changed, forever it seems.

What is there to say about that which hasn't been said already 1000 different times in 1000 more eloquent ways? I feel tired and for the most part, until this week, very lonely.

Prior to Batman being born, I was overwhelmed daily with the thought of being pregnant and soon having a child to entertain. Now I am overwhelmed daily with the immediacey with which time evaporates around me. I spoke with one friend who is expecting to deliver next week (good luck Kase) and yet another friend who I just found out is pregnant (congrats, Love) -- and last, but not least, I was chatted up by a third friend who has mastered mommydom, Witchy.

Witchy was there from the very beginning, when I overwhelmed her as I grew more and more and MORE pregnant with my deepest fears and oddest questions about parenting such as "what do you need the most" and "gee this kind of sucks" and "it's supposed to come out where, HOW?!" Witchy, who was safe because I know her and beacuse she was still then a relatively new parent... not a parent who has been so for 5 or 10 or 20 years and laughs cynically because they know (and truly, you don't) exactly what you're in for.

So last night, when Witchy and I were typing away, we were lamenting how we missed each other and observing how the munchkin clan is growing ever larger. Witchy chastised me (and rightly so!) for not keeping in touch and said she missed ye olde blog. I agreed. She suggested perhaps we employ the writing of the postage stamp variety, and I'm going to take her up on that.

And it looks like I may take up ye olde blog, too. Thanks again, Witchy. You're a pearl.

The unrelenting compulsion to write: wailing newborn, here I come

Any minute now, I will cross over from rotund-about-to-be-a-mother category into the official lady-with-wailing-newborn category. Any minute. Now? Not yet. Now! No, still, not yet. I don't know how 9 months can go by so quickly and yet conversely, the last few days and weeks are interminably slow.

Speaking of which, a disclaimer: anyone who asks me "so you're still pregnant?" after today is fully deserving of the punch in the throat they receive.

This entire pregnancy is somewhat of a blur. I could never believe that 9 months could pass so quickly. I think we're prepared, mostly prepared anyways. In terms of "stuff" we have the cradle and diapers and clothes and everything but the wailing newborn. In terms of parenting, well I don't know that it's possible to study for that practical exam. I did have to resist, however, taking a Dr. Spock parenting book off of the shelf at the library in our office. Not because I was interested in what it said so much as I wanted the right to complain later "I did everything the way Dr. Spock said to!" Ah yes, the original Dr. Lipschitz.

Right now, I feel really humble in that I have no idea what kind of parent I will be. I feel strongly that the type of parent I am will be less colored by the preparation I did before hand than it will be by my ability to cope on a day-to-day basis for, well... the rest of my life. "Parent" isn't necessarily something you get to retire from, is it?

Obviously enough, I'm writing again. If this is as a result of anything, it's a result of the fact that I feel sort of lost and overwhelmed. People tell me "having a baby is going to change EVERYTHING" and I nodd in agreement, as though it's possible for me to fully process that right now. It's impossible. So I write to feel like I'm processing, but in reality I'm just hoping I'm up to the task.

Ready or not, I'm going to be a parent. Any minute now.