I knew having a baby would be hard. Everyone knows that. Everyone tells you that.The thing I didn't know -- and that no parent can possibly convey -- is how impossibly, heart-breakingly, mind-numbingly hard it is.
Today I sat at my desk nearly in tears while my husband texted me about the epic meltdown my son was having. He went five hours without napping, and all efforts to end the streak were coming to naught.
My husband is a wonderful, loving, capable father. I am blessed that he is able to be home with our son and that we don't have to use daycare. But he's daddy. And sometimes, babies need mommy.
For one thing, mommy's got The Boobs. And I am quite liberal with mine, offering them at every whimper as a first line of defense against tears. It wasn't until my mother-in-law visited in Clark's first weeks that it really hit me that there are non-boob ways to soothe a baby. So we're still working that.
I went home for dinner an hour and a half early tonight to try to ease the situation. Clark was quite satisfied to see the arrival of The Boobs, quieted down enough to eat, have a bath, and put his jammies on before resuming The Meltdown. Four songs into Queen's Greatest Hits later, he was out for the night.
