The Cursed Jammies

Zoe is 3 weeks old today! 🥳

This feels like an incredible milestone for the lot of us–all still alive and relatively healthy (I say relatively because my old meat-sack of a body is falling to pieces at my advanced age).

Side note: I think the real reason parents use inappropriate units for their toddler's age isn't because the increased resolution to better understand exactly where a baby is at as they rapidly grow, but instead to better share the precise agony the parent is feeling. "Oh, you are at three weeks? So same lack of schedule, sleep, and feeding every 2-3 hours?..But with bigger poops and more time with baby awake and not sure what to do with all the new found energy?"

While it has been (and still is) incredibly difficult, Sam and I have been settling into the role of parents a bit better and feeling like we are able to get some time back for ourselves. We have a routine that works fairly well at providing us each some guaranteed sleep even if our little gremlin has other plans.

Something that I've found pretty helpful in maintaining my sanity through this (and most of life) is providing silly narratives to unfortunate events we find ourselves in. We've had a couple terrible nights (cluster feeding, waterfall vomit from overeating, poop...everywhere–you get the idea) and I noticed we had her in the same jammies both times. Yesterday Sam pulled those out and I jokingly said that those were cursed–like Laszlo's witch hat cursed–but we bravely continued onward.

Zoe in her new jammies this morning.

This morning I found Zo in a new set of jammies to which Sam said "Yeah, those are cursed. Poop. Everywhere."