I’m headed to New Orleans to speak at a corporate event. I’m looking forward to being in The Big Easy, but I won’t be there long. In the past, I would’ve stayed a
day or two and rolled with the good times. As confused Army buddy used to say, “When in Rome, do what the Romanians do.” Today, however, I just want to do my thing and get on back home.
Babies are magical. They change everything, except for their own diapers, of course. For the first two months of Abigail Jennings’ short life, Lucy changed 99% of the diapers. While she still changers the bulk of them, I get in 3 to 5 changes a day. It’s not that big of a deal, but as she grows the deal will obviously get bigger. That’s OK, too. By the way, she’s up to 10 pounds, thanks to her mama and her mama’s milk.
It hurts my heart so bad when she cries. Oftentimes, a diaper change makes all the difference in the world. A warm wet wipe here and a warm wet wipe there, followed by a little butt paste goes a long way. It’s too easy—most of the time anyway.
She is so calm on the diaper changing station. Wait, is it a station? Maybe it’s just a table. I don’t know. I just know it’s one of her favorite places. Her little smiles are precious and priceless.
While changing the diaper is relatively simple, getting her outfits back on has proven to be a daunting task, although it has gotten easier. When I first started, I pulled her whole outfit off. I didn’t know. I still see some kids doing it in public restrooms. I find it awkward. Maybe it’s because their fathers didn’t know what the heck they were doing when they were infants.
It’s the snaps that get me. If you’re off one snap, it throws everything off, and then you have to start all the way over. I think I wore cloth diapers with jumbo safety pins, and not much else, when I was her age. I was easy. Fortunately, Lucy picks out the cute little outfits, with cute little accessories, of course. I’m a guy. I pretty much wear the same clothes every day.
And, I’m really not joking about that. I wear the same Ledbetter’s Barber Shop t-shirt every day, because that just happened to be the one that I was wearing when she spit up her whole bottle of milk on me early on. I love that shirt and that reminds me; I need to get a haircut. In fact, I need to get them all cut. She spit up on my Rocky shirt one day, too, but I immediately stripped down and threw it in the wash.
While I’m away, Lucy will do everything. Well, not everything; she’ll leave the dishes for me. Dishes aren’t her thing. She does most of the baby related stuff, but I have picked up my game over the last month.
The one thing I can’t do is breast-feed. Lucy does that throughout the day and night. My hat is off to her. It’s healthy and natural, but it’s tiring, time-consuming, and painful, as well. In her words, “It’s worth it.” She’s a trooper. She’s all-in. She’s a great mother.
I love my little family, and I can’t wait to see them… right after I have my coffee and beignets at Cafe Du Monde in the heart of The Big Easy, of course. Lucy and Emily get pralines. I’ll get some, too.