My mother-in-law had finished her lecture (for the nth time), about how she had efficiently looked after my husband and his brother when they were just babies in their cloth diapers. Presumably she had had sleepless nights, mornings full of work, illnesses to be dealt with, school work and possibly fought a war with aliens too, by the looks of it. But she managed all that by not taking her children out of the house but taking them out. Yes, you read that right.
I quizzically looked at my 3 month old baby slumbering peacefully in his cradle. My first (and terrifying) thought was, “Were we going to end up like that, too?”
Now let me get this straight. I love my baby. I really do. He is the light of my life. But I value my sleep. And my life. There, I said it. I’m already struggling a bit (a lot, more like), through nighttime feedings and diaper changes and putting my baby back to sleep (which has to be one of the most difficult things in this world). Add to that, stuff like being constantly on the run, and zero social life (including not even going to the grocer’s, I mean, how am I going to survive THAT!!), I might as well throw in the towel and give up motherhood altogether!
As I was spiralling into self-pity and depression (as is my wont), my husband, who pretty much knows what I’m thinking, said, “We’ll manage, don’t worry!”
After much convincing from my husband and much trepidation from my side, I have finally accepted that maybe I can manage this lark.
In the meantime, let me look for my light saber. Need it to tackle aliens anyway!