A day with a newborn is a wild adventure that smells a lot like dirty diapers and unwashed hair.
Naïve parents-to-be may think they’ll be able to carve out time for themselves, but we poop-smeared veterans know that’s really a lie celebrities tell us as their live-in nanny fix them a chai tea latte with foamed almond milk.
Catch a glimpse of a typical day at the Thomas home, starting at a cheerful hour of 3 AM:
3 AM: Baby belts out hungry cries. Stumble across room to get baby like a drunk spring breaker with a boob out.
6 AM: Baby belts out hungry cries. Desperately feel around for pacifier to use as a 10 minute snooze button. Continue “hitting snooze” until baby gets pissed.
7 AM: Change baby’s diaper. Baby blows up new diaper. Change baby’s diaper
8 AM: Douse baby’s poopy onesie, my poopy shirt, and bra in Shout and throw clothes on a heaping pile of dirty laundry. Make trough full of coffee. Drink trough full of coffee.
9 AM: Feed baby. Kiss baby all over until baby eventually gets super irritated. Rock baby for nap. Lay baby down. Start a to-do list. Fall asleep writing it. Wake every 2 minutes to check baby’s breathing.
10 AM: Baby wakes. Poops again. Change diaper. Google, “Is it normal for my baby to blow up two diapers in one morning?” Read several results and become convinced baby has rare, congenital illness. Text husband in a panic.
11 AM: Get baby dressed in adorable outfit. Take 126 pictures. Post three to Instagram. Monitor Instagram for hearts. Write status update on Facebook about how tired I am. Monitor Facebook for likes.
12 PM: Feed baby. Call a friend. Baby starts screaming. Sputter out something unintelligible and hang up.
1 PM: Realize I’m starving. Baby is gassy and cries when put down. Try and make sandwich one handed while holding a crying baby. Say lots of cuss words in my mind.
2 PM: Baby naps. Take 43 pictures of sweet, sleeping angel and text 5 to parents. Exhausted, debate cleaning kitchen. Or showering. Or just getting out of pajamas. Decide to watch Food Network instead. Continue to check baby’s breathing every 2 minutes.
3 PM: Feed baby. Burp baby. Get doused in spit up. Get most of it out of cleavage, but leave some in hair, because whatever.
4 PM: Continue to douse baby in kisses and talk enthusiastically in squeaky high voice until she eventually gets bored and starts fussing. Realize baby only cries when I’m sitting down. Become bitter.
5 PM: Baby finally falls asleep. Be too afraid to move while holding sleeping baby. Start writing status update about how tired I am, realize I already posted one this morning. Post it anyway. Lose three Facebook friends.
6 PM: Feed baby. Welcome home husband by throwing baby at him so I can pee. Yell for him to order Chinese food from the bathroom because I couldn’t get dinner going and WHY DO I HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING?!
7 PM: As husband holds baby, catch a bizarre whim to try on pre-pregnancy jeans to see if they fit. Realize that was real stupid while chucking them across the room.
8 PM: Give baby a bath. Take 1002 pictures. Post 15 to Facebook. Try rocking wide awake baby to sleep. Eventually begin singing “Please go to sleep before I lose my freaking mind” to the tune of “Hush Little Baby.”
9 PM: As I rock sleepy baby, text husband to pop some popcorn and fire-up the DVR to watch our favorite recorded shows after I put baby down.
10 PM: Fall asleep rocking baby like a drunk spring breaker with a boob out.