I attended a two year old's birthday party yesterday.
In truth there wasn't much of a party, because many of the other party-goers were digging themselves out from behind massive walls of snow. But there was all the usual festive fare, like cake - albeit vegan - and vegetable chips and fizzy organic drinks.
One of the revellers was four month old Sophie. Soph arrived in the clearly tired arms of her Mum.
Mum looked exhausted. Positively knackered. And Sophie wasn't making it any easier on her.
Sophie was fussy. She hadn't had a poo in three days. (Yes, this is the type of conversations that parents of young children engage in, with people they've never met.) And she wouldn't stop crying. Mum was beside herself -- she hadn't slept for longer than a few hours at a time for months.
My friend DL calls me the Baby Whisperer because one of the results of years of meditation practice is the ability to quiet myself, and often in turn, squalling infants.
So, for about ten or fifteen minutes, while Sophie's Mum enjoyed her cake, I walked and soothed the baby. It didn't last forever (harken back to three days without a poo) but it was enough for Mum to regain a bit of her equilibrium.
Parenthood is a total endurance contest.
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2 comments:
I miss the days of countertop-talk. I much prefer hardware stores to poopy (or non-poopy as the case may be) diapers.
yeah, it's embarrassing to admit i'm already talking about poos. the other day campbell and i were over at some friends' house (mark and fiona), who also have a baby. after a short-yet-still-too-long discussion of poos, we all looked at each other, and fiona articulately expressed our get-back-to-our-old-selves sentiment:
"i can't believe we just talked about poos like that. hurry up! someone light a joint, fast!"
:)
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