A Few (Sleepy) Observations

I have a couple of observations about my life as a new parent that I feel like sharing with you fine folks:

Sleep. It's the holy grail for new parents. It's the thing that every person who doesn't have a baby is sick of hearing about (tough shit). When it's good, you feel like you're floating in a pool of angel tears. When it's bad, you feel like you're floating in a pool of angel turds. Some people are blessed with babies who just naturally snooze and the rest of us have kids who run their fingernails across the sides of their pack n' plays at 3am, like some kind of fucking horror movie.

Well-meaning old ladies at the grocery store make you feel like if you don't "train" your kid to sleep through the night, they are going to end up being a 47-year-old man who sucks his thumb and collects women's hair. And yet, when you think about letting your kid cry it out, it's easy to be flooded with thoughts of them in their adulthood, lacking empathy because you stole their precious attachment and thus resorting to registering as a Republican and exhibiting extreme road rage.

I feel like I might offend someone here, so my apologies in advance, but sleep training makes me want to punch someone in the tit. Sure, I get it. In fact, every other night I tell Josh, "That's it. Tomorrow night we start teaching this kid to go to sleep on his own." I might even do it eventually. Side note: For those of you with no kids, reading this in bed at 11am (I hate you), sleep training is when you 'teach' your kid to go to sleep on their own and sleep through the night without relying on you because they are tiny babies who can't fucking figure it out on their own. But really, I think sleep training is a way to make money off of terrified, sleep-deprived new parents. OF COURSE I will buy and read your book that promises if I do steps one through eighty-seven my kid will sleep through the night. Who wouldn't buy that shit? But here's the thing: If it was that simple, there wouldn't be 900 fucking books on the topic. Babies are different from each other just like you and I are different. While masturbation and a hot cup of tea puts me right to sleep, for you that shit might just make you feel all uptight and give you heartburn.

Maybe I'm just cranky 'cause I'm tired.

Anyway, here are some other, less-ranty parental observations:

I sometimes wonder if my kid is going to speak only in sing-song. I find myself looking at him sometimes, thinking, "I can't have a conversation with you if you don't talk back to me. Fuck." So instead, I sing everything at him. "You got a load in your pants that smells like sweet bread. If we were rednecks then your name would be Jed."

No one checks me out anymore. It might be the extra 30lbs I'm carrying or the fact that I haven't brushed my hair since 2013, but I don't think so. I think it's because once a kid comes out of your vagina, people can tell that the last thing you want to do is fuck a stranger.

That's all I got for now. I tried to write a whole paragraph about baby poop, but it turned out shitty. 

Cheers!

For Hire

There was a point in my life where I thought, "You know what would be really sweet?! If someone paid me to write a blog." But that would only work if said person wanted someone who wrote in their blog every six months. Fuck.

You know, the problem is, I keep trying to think of blog material that doesn't have to do with being a mom, giving birth, having a kid, etc. But I CAN'T. It's like it is physically and mentally impossible now to be funny without talking about my kid. Believe me, I want to write a quirky, hilarious blog about sucking dick or something but whenever I start, all that comes out is:

So, the thing about sucking dick is my kid might partake some day. Fuck. Let me try this again. So, the thing about sucking dick is, it's surprisingly not as pleasurable with a baby in the room. Shit. OK, I got this. So, the thing about sucking dick is, it's best when youasdjaknsajsdkjfnaasdnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn. I just fell asleep at my keyboard.

The good news for you is that I'm quitting my job next week so (hypothetically) I'll have more time to make your day. Yep, I'm quitting. My kid gets sick every other day and sometimes one of the ladies at daycare looks like she smokes a bunch of crack and stays up all night eating Frito pies and watching infomercials before coming work. In all honesty, I just can't cope with the guilt anymore. I realize I'm just going to find something else to feel guilty about, but for now this feels like the best thing to do for my kid.

Part of me feels like I need to find some kind of mom-friendly job. I mean, I'm not going to start selling candles or some other shit, but it would be nice to find something I can do from home. I'd even settle for something I can bring my kid to. I was thinking I'd make a great sex-education instructor. Sure, Scared Straight doesn't work for reprobate teens, but I think with some real-talk, Georgia style, kids would definitely be slipping on the jimmy hats before awkwardly doing it. I imagine it going something like this:
"Class, I'm not going to bullshit you. Let's have a real talk about sex. It's awesome, right? And you all know that if you don't use protection when you have sex, you could end up getting pregnant. But let's talk about having sex AFTER you have a kid. I mean, are there women who actually do the deed after the momentous occasion of stretching their vaginas so wide they tear all the way up to their anus? Seriously. If I'm going to be honest, the closest thing I've come to getting any since I gave birth is when the midwife checked me to see if my uterus has shrunk. I'd try a different door, but I can't get into the feeling of pooping out a penis over and over - I don't know how those Evangelical pastors do it! Wait! Why are you escorting me outside?! You're hurting my arm. Are you a gym teacher? How did I know? I can see the outline of your wiener through your short shorts. I think I hear the kids cheering for me ...."

I don't know. I think being a mom is the hardest job I've ever had (and I worked at Walgreens in college for three days where the cashier would always whisper to me, "You gotta get out of this place while you still can, honey. It'll bury you."). So, for now I should probably just focus on my kid and making sure his first word isn't cock-sucker.