Filthy Baby Mummy

Bad mom or just stupid? 

I don’t wash my baby. My kid has skin problems from here to somewhere rashy. When we were kids, we had similar issues with excema, scabies, and, of course, leprosy. In fact, we still do. 

One of the big mistakes my mother made when she was trying to keep us alive, was washing us too much. With every good intention in the world, she stripped our skin of any protection it had. She realized her mistake, and passed her wisdom on. With that in mind, I don’t wash my friggin’ baby. I tried to, at first, every couple days. But as it became more and more apparent that his skin would mirror mine, I stopped. 

He’s lucky if he gets a bath every two weeks. He’s not actually dirty, he gets wiped down and his little crevasses hide no yeast or lingering poo. His hair was oily for about a week then promptly stopped being oily (much like mine when I started shampooing only 2-3 times a week). But yeah, people who wash their little ones every day blow my mind. 

And it worked quite well, for a while. But the winter cold has set in, and my baby has once again become a rashy mess. With his family history, his pediatricians have agreed it’s probably just excema and even given their blessing on the bathless chaos. We tried dairy elimination, just to be safe. But it persists. 

And now I’m scared… 

Did I fuck up? Maybe I’m too far on the other end of the spectrum? Should I bathe him more than I am? Did I do something wrong? Is it as normal as I think? It’s probably nothing. But what if it isn’t? Am I being paranoid? Shit. Shit. 

So, I hauled the little creature into the shower with me, his baby bath carefully in the tub as I cuddled him and washed him up. Of course, I’m constantly stricken with fear that I’ll drop him, despite having the baby bath positioned just so and gripping him like he’s a golden goose. 

After our shower, I dried him off and wrapped him in a loose swaddle, to which he happily nodded off… shit. Should I have been swaddling him more? I know I largely stopped once he hit three months. I know you aren’t really supposed to swaddle them after a certain point, but when exactly is that? Why don’t I know this? Would he have been happier all along? I thought he was kicking too much, he always just kicked any blankets off…SHIT. SHIT. 

Now, I ask… am I a bad mom or just stupid? I’m not sure. Maybe a bit of both and neither. I don’t do a lot of what people say you should, I don’t treat him like he’s terribly fragile, and everything has worked out fairly well… but is that luck of the draw? His development is spot on, if not a little better. His weight is a little low but he’s long and has a little pudge. One testicle likes to hang out pretty high BUT they are both there… 

I don’t have a clue, really. I have a healthy enough kid who’s happy and likes to put his hand in your mouth. So as long as he stays that way, I’m just going to take a bunch of pictures of his adorable  face and send them to people who are trying to work. 

Falling In Love: Baby Poo

I recently read an article that was filled with nastiness aimed towards people talking about their pregnancies and offspring. Now, it was total bullshit. The person was angrily telling people that they were required to edit their harmless commentary and sharing of their own lives, because they (the writer) was annoyed by it. I say to that, with utmost sincerity, fuck off. Not being insensitive or sanctimonious is one thing, but “it’s annoying and we don’t want to hear about it” can be solved with an unfollow or an unfriend. There are plenty of things that I and others post that won’t interest others, are oversharing, annoying, etc. … but they are harmless. There is no hate speech, no detrimental effect, it’s just silliness. SO IGNORE IT. Because crapping all over others is a pointlessly cruel venture. 

That all being said, I was thinking about my own social media commentary on my little one, his bowel movements, my bowel movements (hemorrhoids, yo), and all the various pictures. I’ve also recently started a new job, and I find that he’s one of the only things I talk about…

And all that got me thinking. I’ve fallen in love. Now, I’ve never been one for dramatic love. While being a drama queen, myself, I like my romantic love straightforward and humble. I want to pay the bills with you and see you naked. I want to wake up to you farting in your sleep and the fact that you will NOT STOP LEAVING HALF FULL BEER BOTTLES AROUND THE HOUSE, MATT, FINISH THEM, WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU. Ahem, what I mean to say is: I’ll write love poems, and you will never ever see them because… eww, eye contact. 

I always assumed the love of one’s child was the same, but without the romance. I was right, it is… BUT IT’S DRAMATIC AS HELL. I literally cannot stop thinking about his potato face. 

At this new job, I spend the whole time thinking that, when I’m done, I get to go back to him. For perspective, I am working night shift. When I get home, I’ve sometimes been up for 24+ hours. I need to sleep. But he will start waking up, so I’ll sleep for a fitful 2-3 hours, while he alternately thrashes, cries, poops, and naps. Then I’ll get up to do some chores and entertain him for the day. He’s pretty damn annoying and I’m REALLY tired. And yet I adore him and I’ve just spent the night thinking about hugging his little body to me and the way he smiles when he sees my face…

So, I guess what I’m saying is: 

I love my son.

And, I’ll talk about his poop if I want to, bitch.