What I didn't know...

I did a lot of research with this whole "having a baby" deal. So many videos, so many books, so many websites. Prenatal classes. Extensive visits with the midwives. I even sat through countless episodes of TLC's A Baby Story with its typical television scare tactics of almost every birth ending in an emergency C-Section. So I was prepared. Totally prepared. Until I wasn't.

Don't get me wrong, the little dude is still thriving and isn't sitting in a pile of his own feces chained to the radiator or anything. The actual parenting part has come surprisingly easily. I haven't been scared or panicky and I have actually been uncharacteristically un-stressed during his manic crying jags. No, the whole feeding, nurturing, sheltering and clothing part is going fine. No big surprises there. But there are things about the post-pregnancy world that I was not so prepared for.

Things like having the midsection of a deflated balloon. I knew that work would be required, and I know they say to give it time and to not even start working out until at least six weeks (or until your abdominal muscles knit together again--gross), but I wasn't completely prepared for the way I would feel every time I try to put my old pants on or catch myself in the mirror. It's difficult accepting this transition body. At least when you're pregnant you have an excuse. And people think it's cute..."Oh, you're huge, congratulations!" But now I'm just another lululem-mom walking around in yoga pants and cursing at the hot 20-year-olds in their skinny jeans.

And then there's the changing standard of accomplishments. I used to get so much done in a day, even in the days when I didn't do anything. Now, I feel like a captain of industry if I can get my teeth brushed by noon. This adorable little time vampire requires so much constant coddling, he's such a...baby.

Oh, and how is it possible that someone who is only nine pounds can create ten times that weight in laundry and general mess in less than an hour or two? Seriously, hurricane George leaves a trail of diapers, blankets, clothing, and other various baby accoutrements in his wake that seems impossible for such a little dude.

Speaking of the little dude, he is currently making evil grunting noises in his swing. Guess he's waking up. It's show time.