No one would have ever confused me with being a baby person – in fact my work friends have a running joke about how much I hate babies and detest when people use their kids as their sole topic of conversation. There’s nothing worse than that co-worker who won’t shut up about their kid’s “play date” (where did this asinine phrase come from, by the way? It literally makes me sick to my stomach) or the “adorable” thing they did over the weekend.
Worse than that, the social media parent who posts unwanted updates on their child that isn’t even very cute. Kay, thanks. I really needed to know that Joey is 3 weeks old and likes sleeping. Like what the fuck? He’s a baby. What else is there to like?
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always wanted kids myself, but the baby phase was something I felt was more of a necessary evil than a wondrous miracle.
What can I say? This is likely the first in a long line of things I will get totally ass-backwards.
The first month with my daughter has been amazing. I have had so much more fun and joy than I thought possible. I am absolutely obsessed with her and don’t want to talk or think about anything else.
Rather than eagerly awaiting a blossoming child, I am holding on to every second with my tiny girl, the newborn-sized onesies and the weird fact that babies can’t really see anything. I love just doing absolutely nothing with her, watching her slow-blink herself to sleep or slowly learn how to make new facial expressions.
I carry her all around the house and I hate other people holding her. Like some territorial beast, I track their every movement and count down till it won’t be rude to snatch her back and snap my teeth in victory.
Do the social media parents still irritate me? Of course, they do. But now at least I can understand the constant excitement and need to wax eloquent about your offspring. Because my offspring is fucking awesome.