Baby Apparatus Hell
For the smallest person in this family, somebody’s shit sure takes up a lot of space. I’ll give you all three guesses as to whose it is.
Seriously. Everywhere I step, there is some sort of apparatus in the way. An infant gymnasium. All he needs is a coach and a uniform and you’d be sure he was training for some sort of infant Olympics A swing, a bouncy chair. Receiving blankets. Diapers, wipes. Bottles. It’s fucking everywhere, and it’s making me feel irritated.
And so I wonder to myself, what in the hell did people do before all this shit was invented?
According to Bestie, in Africa the moms just swing the baby up on their back by their arm and tie them into place using a piece of fabric. Then they go about their day.
So why does getting Buddy and Destroyer ready to go out into the goddamn backyard seem like such a pain in the ass for me? First world problems I tell you. It seems like a lot of work to sunscreen and hat the toddler. Find something to cart the infant and a multitude of his shit in. Pick up any dog shit as soon as we get there so no one steps in piece of gold.
But it really shouldn’t be a lot of work.
Maybe I need to drink more. Is that a thing?
Or, I could just accept the fact that I could just shut up and wear my baby like every good granola mom out there so I have my hands free and forget about all the baby apparatuses. Or apparati? Whatever.
Or I could just close my eyes and before you know it he’ll be able to sit up on his own and I can get most of this shit out of the way.
Or I could just stop complaining and enjoy every second of him being this tiny and gorgeous and sweet. Cause he really is, you know. Gorgeous. I can say it. I make good-looking kids.
And just like that, all is forgiven.