Sometimes I just need to have a little refresher on the lighter side of life. The things that make you laugh so hard you cry, or cry so hard you laugh. Something to reminisce upon later on down the road, and chuckle at the thought of how hard it seemed at the time. The experiences in which you realize, at one moment or another, that it's not all so bad.
I'm a new mother of a two month old baby boy, who I will refer to as Batman, because it is more fun that way. And when I say 'new', I mean it in the sense that crying babies made me cry, because they were foreign, and loud, and quite frequently made smells that would make any one of my male friends gag. I, unfortunately, was not born with that maternal instinct that my sister, The Baby Whisperer, was obviously born with. I did not do the "ooh" and "ahh" thing, did not enjoy tiny, little things, and for her first baby shower, I broke down in the middle of Babies R Us the way a man surely would in the shoe department at Macy's the day before Valentine's Day.
No I, all though not considerably a "tomboy", would preferably hang out with the guys, have an adult beverage and discuss the newest upgrades of the Ford Mustang, all while cursing like a sailor and being undoubtedly the "prettiest of the guys". I enjoyed when my now-husband showed me how to change my own oil, because I could get my hands dirty and have nasty crud under my nails. Oh if I had only known.
So here I sit, 2 months, 1 week and 2 days after giving birth to my son, with my hands dirty, like I had always wanted. I have the cutest baby vomit in my hair, I ooh and ahh at the tiny little dirty diapers, and the only time I cry now is when I forget to cover certain boy parts during a change, and wind up with substantial amounts of peepee in my face. And I'm not sure how this baby get a hold of liquefied garden salad, but the evidence is under my no longer finely manicured fingernails. Yes, I got my hands dirty. But I cried so hard I laughed.
