Allow me a moment
As the giddiness of new motherhood begins to wear off (and yes, it has taken well over a year for that to occur), I am beginning to notice a few changes I like less than I originally thought.
No. 1. Adriyanna has ruined all my clothes. If it wasn't stretched out from trying to wear it during pregnancy, it doesn't fit anymore because my stomach is no longer flat and has long, deep scars that make it uncomfortable to wear anything that, you know, touches those scars. Not to mention the fact that my boobs are another cup size bigger after six months of breastfeeding. And then there's my feet. Which are now a size 8 rather than the 7.5 of the past. OK then. So what does fit, or what I have bought to fit with what little money I have after diapers, daycare and butt wipes, she gets dirty. We're talking permanent stains she left on the shoulder of EVERY SHIRT I OWN from the day of her birth until she stopped spitting up at about six months old. Then she started learning to eat solid food, which was wonderful, except most of it ended up on my lap. Now, she's running and eating in a (mostly) neat manner. She comes up to about my knees as she sprints around the house knocking over glass items and spilling pops mommy and daddy were dumb enough to leave half full. She likes to cling to the bottom of whatever I'm wearing, pants, skirts, etc., with her grimy little fingers, so I have permanent fingerprints on all the clothing items I wear on my bottom half. ::sigh::
On the upside, opening my own presents pales in comparison to seeing her face light up when she saw her first tricycle under the tree.
So there you have it: My bitching and a sappy holiday moment.
No. 1. Adriyanna has ruined all my clothes. If it wasn't stretched out from trying to wear it during pregnancy, it doesn't fit anymore because my stomach is no longer flat and has long, deep scars that make it uncomfortable to wear anything that, you know, touches those scars. Not to mention the fact that my boobs are another cup size bigger after six months of breastfeeding. And then there's my feet. Which are now a size 8 rather than the 7.5 of the past. OK then. So what does fit, or what I have bought to fit with what little money I have after diapers, daycare and butt wipes, she gets dirty. We're talking permanent stains she left on the shoulder of EVERY SHIRT I OWN from the day of her birth until she stopped spitting up at about six months old. Then she started learning to eat solid food, which was wonderful, except most of it ended up on my lap. Now, she's running and eating in a (mostly) neat manner. She comes up to about my knees as she sprints around the house knocking over glass items and spilling pops mommy and daddy were dumb enough to leave half full. She likes to cling to the bottom of whatever I'm wearing, pants, skirts, etc., with her grimy little fingers, so I have permanent fingerprints on all the clothing items I wear on my bottom half. ::sigh::
On the upside, opening my own presents pales in comparison to seeing her face light up when she saw her first tricycle under the tree.
So there you have it: My bitching and a sappy holiday moment.