Holy crap! Substitute parenting is hard. Literal babysitting minus hourly wages and taking your textbooks home at midnight. I am so out of shape when it comes to babies! When you are in the zone of caring for infants, you develop a rhythm. Sleeping in three hour starts and fits becomes the thing you do. Your sleep-deprived brain adapts. Your brain thinks it’s totally normal to watch reality television in the dead of night. Muscle memory returns when it comes to babies, but it takes a few sessions to regain.
substitute parenting: because it takes a village
Nine months pregnant friend Darby called at 3:03 a.m. last night. Damn, but babies always double screw you over at the bewitching hours. Greedy bastards knock on your cervix door as if you’re just going to LET THEM IN. Ready or not, here I come! As far as I’m concerned, it’s more like Bride of Chucky.
Regardless, newborn babies all look like old men to me. Wrinkly, surly, demanding old men. Those special kind of old men who strut around naked in the gym locker room. You know the type. The geriatric babies blow drying their nuts, daring you not to look. Taunting you to say something, or challenge them. Who don’t like my balls on display?
grand parenting dry run
Meanwhile, the small old coots, the newbie ones, sleep on your shoulder. Their sweet scalp smells like hyacinth. It’s intoxicating. Sweet, delicious baby love. But I digress.
I’m substitute parenting for Darby’s 18 month-old while she tends to the birthing of her next person. I think I got the good end of that stick. Still, there is that whole “vacation” aspect of going to the hospital to birth a baby. Certain politicians without vaginas liken birthing to lounging and taking it easy. If babies sucked on parts of men’s anatomy for nutrients, I believe male politicians may stop saying ridiculous shit about women’s bodies. An enema to guard against shitting yourself later is not similar to a Rosemary Mint Awakening Body Wrap. Who needs a Chakra Balancing Massage when you can pay $4000 for an Epidural so you don’t feel parts of your body ripped out? Good end of the stick indeed. In the meantime, I get some 18 month old baby love!
Baby Jett and I didn’t start out so well when he woke up at 5:45 a.m. No doubt, he expected his doting mother, but got me instead. No one informed him of the substitute parenting switcheroo. GOOD MORNING, BABY! I tried to reason with Jett that it was too early to be awake. Unfortunately, he was having none of my “let’s hang out in bed until I can open my eyes and withstand my own breath” plan. Stop wiggling or you’ll never get a fresh diaper to immediately pee into. Additionally, he is cheerful little fucker in the morning. In reality, too perky for my tastes. I am not a morning person.
Stop grinning at me. I closed his bedroom door to contain him in case he tried to crawl away while I was sleeping. For a couple hours, we hung out on his carpet. It was surprisingly entertaining. Baby Jett played with all his pacifiers and I pretended to be awake. I lost my cell phone three times.
Wiping tiny genitals first thing in the a.m. isn’t as fun as it sounds.
I’m more than a little paranoid about forgetting my temporary baby in the car because I’m not used to having a baby in my car. A friend said not to worry. as long as I didn’t leave a google search trail about leaving babies in cars, I’d be fine. I know that was a bad joke. OMG! Lighten up! I’m kidding! I would never leave a google search trail about leaving babies in cars. That’s a total rookie substitute parenting move.