Being a new mom is such a cliche.

Cliche: “A phrase or opinion that is overused and betrays a lack of original thought.”

AKA life as a new mom. Let me explain…

My life is a cliche. A big, honkin’-filled cliche.

I expect people to respond with sympathy when I say “OMG. He hardly slept last night.” or “Holy shit I got peed on 3 times yesterday!” But no. They look at me like, “And… your point is…?”

I am annoyed with the words that come out of my mouth. It’s so boring. It’s so cliche.

Let me paint the picture…

On a regular day, I am wearing a top knot, a button up flannel shirt, sweats, maybe a bra, probably with one sock on, and often spit up crust on my shoulder. There’s diapers I have yet to throw away on the dresser. (#Gross) Dinner is considered a success if at least two granola bars are consumed. And the second Brad walks in the door from work I toss the baby at him so I can take a shower/sleep/eat/drink wine. How cliche.

See what I mean? It’s so boring. It’s so predictable. I don’t even understand how it all happens. This baby is like the size of a large rat. How on earth does he control me?

One day last week, admittedly it was what I am going to call an “off day”  or simply described as a day in hell, and Kent was the fussiest little baby on the planet. No idea why. I tried car rides, walks, every bouncer I own, music, fans, a bath, the crib, the swing, the rocker… you get the idea. Conveniently Brad had a 15 hour work day so I was counting down “only 3.5 more hours.” “2 more hours.” “30 minutes.” Because he would have all the solutions once he got home. #Not. Of course, I have been crying for at least an hour repeating the words “I’m gonna lose it!” As soon as the garage door went up, the baby fell asleep. Is this a joke? This baby has not slept ALL DAY and he is going to act like everything has been normal the second Brad gets home? #WhatTheF

Brad walks in. “Hey honey! Man, you look tired!” #EyeRoll

I tossed him a bottle to feed the baby. I unplugging the monitor out of my bedroom and gave it to him. I’m sure he had a long day saving lives in the ICU but he doesn’t realize that I am half dead. I might actually die soon. But don’t worry, this is normal. So, here. The baby is all yours. Go bond… or whatever. I don’t care. But don’t wake me up for at least 4 hours.

And Brad did just that.

The next day I was still exhausted. Traumatized, really. Am I just a huge wimp or what? When I tell my mom friends about this traumatizing experience they reply, “yeah… and…?” As if there should be more to this torturous story.

So there we have it. A big, fat cliche.

Being a mom is so hard.
There’s not enough hours in the day.
I’m so tired.
He won’t stop crying.
My clothes don’t fit.
My husband works too much.
Someone take the baby.
Flannel shirts.
No showers.
Burnt dinner.

And to all the pregnant people who are anticipating their sweet little delivery soon. I’ll answer the questions you’re wondering… No, you really don’t have time to shower. Not sure how. But it’s true.

And just to solidify this cliche rant of a post… you won’t remember the hard days when you close your eyes at night. You’ll remember the smile your baby gave you on accident when he passed gas. Because gas can be a beautiful thing.

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