So, today we had a dramatic spit-up event that took out the baby, the onesie, the jams, a blanket, the couch, and ALL of my clothes (two shirts, yoga pants, and even my undies!) I know; it was a pretty big deal. I took it as a sign from the universe that we needed more skin-to-skin time, me and Grady. So, I wiped us down and we retreated to the bed to snuggle beneath our down comforter. I let Grady wear a onesie, since that baby hates the nakedness. (And I thought all babies loved nakey time?)
Then I realized, I haven’t really done skin-to-skin since we got home from the hospital. Probably because it’s cold and we are far too stingy environmentally conscious to heat our home to a state of actual warmth. But have I ruined my baby with this appalling maternal oversight? Is he going to blame me when he is arrested for petty crimes? (please let them be petty, please let them be petty...) When, exactly, does the window of opportunity on skin-to-skin close? And what are we trying to accomplish again?
While we were there, we discovered Grady’s new favorite hobby. Standing! Or rather, pretending to stand, while I support most of his weight. Because he is only three weeks old and as such is inherently lazy. But he likes to bear a little of the weight. Then he springs his legs straight, as if to jump. And of course I fly him up into the air as though he has expert jumping skills. So that he will develop a completely delusional sense of his own strength and athletic ability. Because if it isn’t my job to do everything in my power to inflate this kid’s ego, then I don’t know what. (For my previous achievements in this particular parenting division, see Reese.)
Now, can we take a moment to appreciate the chunk-wagon that is my baby?