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5 Things I’d Forgotten About Having a Newborn

Coming home from the hospital wasn’t nearly as scary this time. This wasn’t my first rodeo. This was my second rodeo. Newborns aren’t scary. Compared to a two year old, a newborn is just a cute paperweight with adorable, tiny poops and a tendency to fart and smile at the same time. If I can handle carrying a bowl of Cheerios and a screaming, back arching, 30-pound Duchess down two flights of stairs without killing us both, an eight-pound toothless meat ball should be a breeze. Or so I thought.


I suspect it was the sleep deprivation that occurred during our first week home with the Duchess, but somehow my brain selectively forgot (or downplayed) these five things about having a newborn in the house:

  1. He pooped again?!

We’re going through 10-20 diapers a day. Why you say? Every diaper change entails the use of three diapers: the dirty diaper, the new diaper that ends up getting peed on, and the third diaper that actually ends up on the kid. Other things that end up getting peed on: me, the couch, the wall, my iPad, and anything else within a six foot radius. It’s like a freaking Blue Man Group show in my living room. I should give the first three rows ponchos. (No, Blue Man Group does not pee on the first three rows at their show. They just get wet.)

  1. Who needs sleep?

I was ready to wake up every couple hours. I wasn’t ready to wake up every hour and then spend 45 minutes getting the kid back to sleep. This has resulted in 2-3 hours of sleep every night for the last couple weeks. Stevie and I were taking it in stride for the first few days, but the lack of REM sleep is starting to creep into our daily lives in some very awkward ways.

  1. “Does this look normal to you?”

“Does what look normal?”

“His belly button. It’s a little red.”

“Oh, you’re right. It is a little red. I’d better Google it.”



I’m pretty sure my boy has belly button cancer. Also, every time he grunts at night he is choking to death. I jump out of bed, turn the light on, and make sure he isn’t asphyxiating on his spit up.

  1. I hate your video game! Well I hate your stupid home decorating show!

It’s safe to say that Stevie and I have been a little on edge. Remember the comic from a couple weeks ago about how every conversation, no matter how menial, is a fight when a baby is screaming? Well, every conversation that takes place during a sleep deprived, anxiety ridden haze also has the potential to be a fight.

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