We're Sinking!

I need a moment to kvetch.

Though Patrick is very helpful and loves being a dad, he still defers to me for absolutely everything having to do with the baby. I didn't expect that so much and I don't particularly like it. I imagined a more balanced approach to parenting, a situation where we both knew what needed to be done and shared the responsibility. I know what you're thinking: what were you thinking? You're right, as always, my beloved readers. Instead, Patrick looks at me with a blank, expectant look on his face, as if waiting for orders. This translates into "being on call" all the time. I probably shouldn't complain, since Patrick does so much, but this is my blog, so I'm complaining.

To be truthful, I resent being interrupted while I'm in the shower, the only ten minutes I have alone all day, to be presented with a crying baby and the question, "What's wrong with him?" He's not even three months old and there are not that many things that could be wrong. It's not like he's worried over a girl (or, maybe, boy - let's not jump to conclusions prematurely) or is upset over not being picked for dodgeball. Diaper. Hungry. Cold/Hot. Tired. Hurt. That's it, in order of probability. I told that to Patrick last week and do you know what his response was? He wanted to come up with a mnemonic to remember it. I laughed. Then I cried.

Also, I miss having a brain. "Baby brain" is a widely acknowledged and medically documented phenomenon, which doesn't make it suck any less. I walk around the house looking for things that I've lost, only to forget what I was looking for. I sit down to write and forget what I was going to say. It takes ten minutes for me to get dressed in the morning (or afternoon - whatever.) because I get all the way downstairs and realize that I only have one sock on or that I have pants but no shirt. The Baby Mama's famous Baby Brain Fashion Faux Pas was when she went out to get the mail after nursing the Best Nephew Ever without realizing that she hadn't buttoned her shirt back up or reattached her nursing bra. Poor girl waved at some passing neighbors with the BNE's meal ticket displayed for all to see. This is but one example of thousands, but, as you might have guessed, it is the only one I can think of at the moment.

In sum, Colin is lucky that he is still alive, that he has not starved or been mistakenly left in a shopping cart somewhere, and that his father and I manage to survive each day. Because with me and my brain at the helm, we're heading straight for disaster.