After 3 and a half weeks of motherhood, I’ve learned a few things. First, prioritize, prioritize and prioritize. If it’s 2 p.m. and I’m still in my pajamas it might be a better idea to jump in the shower once Jude is fast asleep rather than cranking out a few more thank you cards at least two weeks late/throwing in a load of laundry/vacuuming up the dog hair imbedded in the carpet/returning phone calls and emails/plucking my out-of-control eyebrows.
Yes, by the end of the day if the baby is dressed, fed, diapered and content and I’m showered and dressed, and the dog hasn’t been poisoned/starved/constipated, I feel like superwoman, deserving of a silver star. Dinner earns another star and if the kitchen and family room don’t look like they’ve thrown up on themselves add another star. Maybe even a golden one. I don’t know how people have multiples, nevertheless one baby after another!
Another thing I’ve learned over these weeks is that Jude Lei likes the big boob. Really likes it. So much that there’s a narrow window of time between when he communicates to me that he’s hungry in the form of either a commanding shriek or mild whimper and when he becomes frustrated in a full-on, clenched-fisted-red-faced screaming stitch that makes me confident my son could be employed as a highly effective alarm system. While on the topic of eating, I’ve had my nose nursed by Jude Lei more than a few times, which produces an odd sensation for both parties involved. Never a good idea to kiss a hungry baby.
On Thursday, when Grandma Sus was visiting I “went out” (errands to CVS for Mylicon don’t count) for the first time since Jude’s arrival. I haven’t mustered the courage to leave him with anyone other than family, even though our doting neighbor Wanda offers frequently. Call me prejudice, but her relentless touting of the freaky exotic clown collection in her family room doesn’t necessarily conjure feelings of confidence in me.
Immerging from the chrysalis of my home over 21 days after Jude’s arrival into the sweat-drenched habitat of tightly-muscled body-builders and trim, spandex-clad women at the gym, I experienced massive over-stimulation similar to how Jude becomes rattled with too much handling and just needs time to himself.
As my excess skin jiggled with each upwards motion of the elliptical, I read (a.k.a. looked at the pretty pictures since my brain has trouble digesting anything longer than a blurb) that Christina Aguilera and Nicole Richie had their babies…on January 12th, ten days after Jude was born. Suddenly, I became aware that the world didn’t completely pause as my life did with his birth. In fact, I was paying bills for the first time on Wednesday and realized, half way through, that most of them would be late because it wasn’t still January 2nd, but January 20-something.
A card sits on Matt’s bureau that reads, “When baby arrives/The world can wait.” While I might still be reeling from the shock and elation of Jude Lei’s birth, the world still continues on. Simply said and yet hard to comprehend especially when time has essentially stood still for the past three weeks like a diaper-filled version of The Twilight Zone.
I was happy to return back home to my baby, studying his ears, fingers, and nose under his new, stern-faced gaze that reminds us of Grandpa Dave. Sometimes at night, Matt and I marvel at how amazingly perfect he is in every way. Even in the midst of a gas-induced meltdown, I’m in awe that he’s here with all ten fingers and toes. I never really allowed myself to fantasize about his arrival when I was pregnant, perhaps in fear that I would jinx it and something would turn out wrong.
Jude seems to favor his left hand and at times I notice him propping his face up against the hand, like a pensive, miniature “Thinker” that would make Rodin proud. My grandma Janet first noticed Jude Lei’s inclination toward his left hand (she’s a lefty too!) and the more time goes on, I see that this hand is often flung around more than the other, even though Jude Lei is not aware that he is in control.
A lover of warm baths and music, (did I mention long walks on the beach too?) Jude Lei receives a daily dose of Konstantin Krimets’ Globalis Symphony Orchestra. I tend to play O Mio Babbino Caro often because on the 2nd, Grandma Janet heard it in a shop and she instinctively knew I was in labor. Stay tuned for the next blog where Jude Lei will be conducting his own piece in Italian…
We’re still receiving boxes upon boxes of gifts for Jude Lei! Home-woven blankets, booties and hats, a Guiding Eyes jean-jacket with “Jude Lei” engraved on the front pocket with a slightly misshapen Golden Retriever, a furry camel-colored papoose for the outdoors that would draw jealous stares from a kangaroo, gliding contraptions that save my tired arms at night and countless outfits show up daily on our doorstep. Matt jokes that Jude had better be appreciative of all the attention now, because once puberty hits, he won't be such a hit...might Matt be speaking from experience?
At the risk of sounding ungrateful, right about now I’d truly appreciate a few presents in the form of a full-time cook, a back-massager, a baby masseuse for Jude when he has bad gas, someone to come clean poopy diapers in the middle of the night, an extra big boob to feed him when I’m sleepy. I can wish, can’t I?