With Spud’s birth three years distant, perhaps I was recalling this baby thing through glasses tinged with a bit of rose. 
I forgot about . . .
- deciding between the oft-quoted adage of ‘sleeping when they sleep’ and the reality of things like paying bills and making phone calls
- using the bathroom in the 30 second interval between when you lay them down and when they realize you just laid them down
- little fists clenching tight to strands of hair
- clutter, cleared and contained during nesting, reappearing overnight
- explosive bowel movements
- the endless merry-go-round of laundry: diapers, diapers, diapers
- the ensuing panic when the merry-go-round breaks down
- spit-up
- holding your finger under their nose and leaning in close to make sure they’re still breathing; then repeating the same routine five minutes later
I also forgot about . . .
- warm fuzzy heads tucked under my chin
- grumpy old man faces
- bottom lips quivering in some of the first shows of personality and emotion
- coos, sighs, grunts, snorts, and snores
- how slippery they seem in the bathtub
- little dimpled hands resting on my neck
- fat rolls
- lips making little sucking motions while slumbering
- how nothing compares to the thrill of that first smile
I forgot how hard this is, but I’m remembering why it’s all so wonderful.
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