Came across a quote from Ann Lamott's Operating Instructions a day or two ago. This is how I began to feel the instant I recognized my soul's reflection in Luke, and our baby magnifies it. Pre-baby, the required rumination time from this thought to tears was about 45 seconds, and now it's down to about 10 and it's not tears but keening, howling ululation. [Hormones?]
PSA to those pregnant or may become pregnant: Get an adjustable bed. We already talked about ours on a daily basis, about how comfortable it is, how it is the best purchase we've ever made, etc, but once you start spending a large portion of your day contorting yourself to feed a tiny human, it's invaluable.
Another pearl from my 13 days of experience: the Boppy pillow is mission-essential.
From the ambition desk: these lipsticks are awesome (Maybelline Color Whisper in Who Wore It Red-er and Color Sensational in Vivid Rose; Revlon ColorStay Ultimate Suede in Muse), and I bought them in the hopes of being the put-together mom with bright lipstick, wearing these cute dresses (in polka dot, in cherry print) with sensible red shoes and a sun hat. This was, of course, in the days just before Clementine was born. Now, dialling back, I aspire to be the mom who remembers to shave her armpits. Armpits is such a gross word. Underarms? Also yuck.
I've read several of your posts, Julie. I really like this one. It's very sweet, but ends on just the right humor. I, too, hate the word armpits. Right along with crotch. Who ever decided that combination of sounds should mean anything?? Gross.
ReplyDeleteJen R.