You know that feeling of enormous satisfaction you get from finding that gigantic split end in your hair and you pull that bitch right out?
No…? Ok, fine.
What about remembering that feeling of satisfaction you got in high school and ditched class and didn’t get caught?
Like, when you are going 20 miles over the speed limit and pass a cop but you don’t get pulled over?
Yeah… there we go! #BadBitch
Is there anything better than that feeling? Like, I’m seriously a bad bitch. A BAD BITCH. This is how I’ve been feeling for two weeks. I’m totally convincing myself I have my shit together… I might actually be getting shit together. I’m not the hormonal, psycho basket case I once was. I’m a #BADBITCH.
I’m walking with the confident strut I only remember having in college after finishing a bottle of wine. You know the strut… you’re a little drunk so you’re convinced everyone is looking at you so you
walk strut your way to the bathroom like a boss. You know, the drunk strut. (NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH DRUNK SLUT!) Looks like this…
I’m serious, you guys. I walked into daycare to pick up Kent and one of the new employees said, “Kent is so sweet. He is always so content and smiley.” I was like, he is?
This is a new development, people. I told you. I have my shit together. And apparently so does he! In addition to being the best dressed baby (a strategic plan on my part and not at all biased, in hopes they will like him the best) he is now content and smiling? #WayToGoKent!
And if that wasn’t enough to put my drunk strut in full force… I also WORE MY BABY IN PUBLIC FOR A LARGE AMOUNT OF TIME. That’s right. Remember when I couldn’t figure out how these veteran mom’s just strapped their newborns into some crazy contraption attached to their bodies and walked around the grocery store like it’s NBD! (read more here). Well, I did it. I pulled it off… at a party, nonetheless. I looked like just another mom, doin’ her thaaang… drinking wine and wearing a baby… NO BIG FREAKIN’ DEAL! #BadBitch
At 3.5 months post partum, momhood is becoming normal now. The 4am feedings are normal, not annoying anymore (That’s a lie. They are annoying. But acceptable and not a big deal.) The inconsolable crying has ceased. The getting peed on every time I change the diaper has stopped. I now have a better understanding of who my baby is, what he needs, what he wants and what he fucking hates. We’re doing it. And everyone is still alive. Kent is not only alive, but sprouting a new baby roll each day.
Cheers to the weekend. And happy drunk strutting.