(Title stolen from How Green Was My Valley by Richard Llewellyn)
I have to say, this is the first time that a New Year has meant something for me. Up until now, I was sort of just rolling through life, accepting the tiny changes that come along with barely a batting of the eye. It wasn't until my life was completely upheaved that I realised how quickly everything can be different. Sure, I've had my share of life changing events...parents divorcing, going far away to school, moving in with someone, etc...but that lame ass song "A Baby Changes Everything" is really the most understated sentiment ever uttered.
As everyone continually promised me would eventually happen, Dustin and I seem to be on the verge of getting used to our new lives. We spent so much of 2011 in a sort of dryer cycle...constantly getting flipped upside down and sort of bashing into life blindly. When you're in the middle of turmoil and stress, you don't ever really see your life outside of it. When you're on the other side, and you have a moment to breathe, you're almost thankful for it. It's kind of like if you never felt sad, you'd never experience happiness because there would be no peaks and valleys. When Kizzy is older, I'm looking forward to using the story of how she got her against her when she's bad. I also take comfort in the fact that if my relationship with Dustin could survive the very worst of times then we're in for a long and happy life together.
If we didn't already have the proof that our lives were completely different from where they were a year ago, our Christmas adventures solidified it. Last year Dustin and I had our first Christmas as a living together couple. It was quiet. We visited bars with our friends, shopped for presents casually, slept in on our days off. Christmas last year fell right before we were about to find ourselves unemployed as the radio stations we worked for were about to switch ownership. Last Christmas we were a month away from being pregnant...and about five years away from even thinking about being pregnant. We were talking about all the things we were going to do with our free time. We had each gotten some severance and talks of taking a trip were in the works.
We were also moving out of our apartment and into the bad decision known as the cottage on my mother's property. The last week we were in the apartment, we conceived our little monster. Of course we didn't know about it until the end of February, and I still chuckle to myself thinking about how I moved couches and painted our new place not knowing I was pregnant.
As this blog has detailed, the year that followed was by far the craziest year of my life. When I think of what was important then compared to what is important now, it blows my mind. Here are just a few things that now occupy my thoughts instead of which bar we were going to have a drink at after work.
Germs: I seriously never thought about germs before Kiz arrived. Even when I was pregnant I didn't really worry too much about getting sick, other than the morning sickness that never really presented itself. Now, my world revolves around keeping this kid healthy. Every sneeze, hiccup or hard fart is a concern for me. We just experienced the two month vaccinations and it was the first time we saw our Kiz a little bit sick. She ended up running a fever and had some diarrhea. Watching your little 10 week old baby suffer is seriously torture. It was bad enough watching the nurses hurt her and not being able to explain that it was for her own good, but in the days that followed, I've given myself an ulcer worrying about how she is fairing. To make matters worse, she was SUPPOSED to get her shots BEFORE we brought her on our first trip to LI to be exposed to all of our family's germs. The morning of her appointment, the battery died in our car and we had to reschedule for AFTER the trip. Bringing her around all those people sans vaccinations was enough to make me feel sicker and sicker with every doorbell we rang. We instituted a "look but don't touch" policy at certain family member's houses. That went over like a fart in church. Certain people took it very personally. Oh well. I made her, I make the rules.
Poops: Never in my life have I spent so much time analyzing human excriment. When I poop, it's lucky if it gets a quick glance, and that's only because of the fact that corn doesn't digest and we've been eating a lot of crock pot beef stew. From frequency to consistency to smell to how Kiz looks when she's struggling with a dook, all I do is worry about her poop. The two worst poop days included the day Kiz went without pooping (she had a massive crap the next morning) and last night when she had di dis. At some point along the way I read something about how quickly a baby can dehydrate and knowing how much I hate IV's on MYSELF, I woke myself up every hour last night to force feed my kid. Then I wondered why she was pretty much gagging on her breakfast bottle. Poor kid. (For the record, she had a normal poop today. YAY!)
Temperature: I am a sweaty person. Even when I was much thinner, I ran a little hot. It's a trait everyone on my mother's side shares. We joke about it. If my mother and I attend anything in the summertime that takes place outside, we look like drowned rats. It's something we all hate but live with. Dustin is the opposite. He's very chilly all the time. Sometimes when he's getting undressed for bed at night I am shocked to see that not only was he wearing his flannel-lined jeans and two pairs of socks, but also a pair of pajama pants. I would literally die if I dressed like that. I'm a shorts and tank top girl, even in the middle of winter. As it turns out, Kiz takes after me. She hates being swaddled, will kick off any blanket draped over her and wakes up ridiculously sweaty in the middle of the night. For whatever reason, every single house we visited this Christmas was like being inside of an oven. I would be sweating within seconds. Then I'd look down at my little bundle, all dressed cute in her Christmas attire, and realize she was miserably hot too. She'd whine and cry until we peeled off layer after layer until by the end of our visit she was in her diaper...and ONLY her diaper. Only one distant aunt of Dustin's commented on it...saying something along the lines of "put a blanket on that baby!" This comment came at the end of our Christmas visits when I had already lost about a gallon of water due to sweat and I think I replied "I KNOW MY KID AND SHE IS SWEATY. I WILL NOT BE PUTTING A BLANKET ON HER." There were no more comments after that.
Bathing: Getting clean has suddenly become very unimportant for me and very important for Kiz. As Dustin joked when we were in the hospital "This family needs lotion." We all suffer from very dry skin, even Kizzy at like a day old. Every time we go to the doctor they comment on her little dry patches. Aside from slathering her with A and D ointment, which gets greasy and messy, there's nothing we can really do about it other than limit the amount of baths she gets. This is a shame because A.) she loves the bath and B.) there is nothing grosser than "milk neck." As previously described, "milk neck" is the term I've coined for the cheese that grows in the folds of a baby's neck from milk trickling down her chin and into her fat folds. I don't care how dilligent you are about your baby's cleanliness, this happens to all babies. Mostly because when you feed a baby in the middle of the night you aren't really awake and trickling is bound to happen. We give Kiz frequent "whore baths" where we just wipe her down as best we can. And it's usually as I'm obsessing over HER state of cleanliness that I realize it's been DAYS since I cleaned myself. Days. Prior to Kiz I showered every day, sometimes twice a day because my office was sweaty. Now taking a shower is like an epic event in this household. Side note: Kizzy gets dirt under her fingernails. WTF? Is she digging ditches outside while I'm asleep? As far as I know all this kid does is loaf around. If she's holding out on me and is actually able to be more productive then I'm not wiping her ass ANY MORE.
Sleep: Before the kid, sleep was something that just happened. I don't really ever remember looking at a clock and being like "oh, I have to go to sleep." Dust and I would just sort of end up asleep in bed somehow, as if by some sort of coma magic. Now my life revolves around how much sleep everyone in this house gets. Dust and I constantly quiz each other on how much sleep we think we got the night before. Sometimes I think the baby sleeps too much, sometimes too little. We watch the clock and get anxiety over her naps or the lack there of. Yesterday she slept all day and I worried she wouldn't sleep at night (she did.) A week ago she was up all day and I worried she would sleep too much that night (she didn't sleep at all.) I panic when Dustin doesn't get enough sleep because that means he won't be able to help me with the baby. He panics when I don't get enough sleep because that means I'm going to be a crazy sobbing mess. They need to invent something that is safe and keeps you awake. Red bull isn't cutting it and I think they'd take the baby away if I started doing meth. Everyone told me to get as much sleep as I could before the baby got here. I should have really listened.
As much as I worry and panic and act like a lunatic, I really do feel lucky. I am looking forward to 2012. I am looking forward to settling into some sort of routine. I'm excited to watch Kizzy grow. I'm happy to have an amazing, infinitely patient husband who loves me even when I'm being ridiculous. I'm happy we have a house and a yard and a large supply of caffinated beverages at our disposal.
So bring it, 2012. After 2011, I'm ready for anything.
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