month one

The baby is nearly one month old, which seems like a milestone worth celebrating. Mostly for us, not him—we've made it this far and everyone is still alive and sane, hooray. 

I've never been a baby person, so it's hardly a surprise to me that this stage of parenthood is pretty boring. He's cute, of course, but most of the time—when he's not sleeping—he's either really annoying or very gross, often both at the same time. He's definitely more alert than he was a couple weeks ago, which makes him seem more like a person and less like a feeding/pooping machine, but he's still pretty blob-like at this point. 

So far, he likes anything with lots of motion: his swing on the highest setting; a very bumpy stroller ride over ice and snow; a trip in the car. He also likes food, his number one request. He loathes diaper changes with a vociferous passion. He doesn't mind taking a bath, but really hates getting out of it. He has shown no understanding that the dog is a dog, but he doesn't seem to mind having his face, hands, and feet licked by her. Pooping and farting are by far the two hardest parts of his day. 

Overall what I'm most amazed by is that every single person currently living on the planet was born so helpless and needy. Just think about it: every single human spent years having their poopy butt wiped by annoyed adults! None of us gets to skip this stage, either: I bet even Jesus had the occasional gross diaper. I knew this intellectually, of course, before I had an infant, but the reality of it has only just hit home. I'm really enjoying imagining random people as helpless babies. Baby Mitch McConnell, for example, with a massive poop diaper, crying for his milk at 2am. How delicious. 

As for me: I am tired, which is obviously due to lack of sleep but may also have something to do with boredom. Having a baby in January in Michigan means you don't get out much; having a baby in January in Michigan during a pandemic means you really don't get out much. I'm trying to embrace this hibernation season. 

My one daily activity not directly related to keeping myself or the baby alive is taking long walks along the Huron river. I've started going every day, snow or shine, dog and baby in tow. It seemed only fitting that I should finally read Pilgrim at Tinker Creek while doing this—and it's a good book to read while caring for an infant, since there is no plot and you can pick it up from anywhere. It's always interesting to finally start reading a book that has been described to you many times by many different people: I'm always surprised at what people fail to mention. Everyone told me that Pilgrim at Tinker Creek was about nature, which of course it is, but no one told me it's really about God. It's not at all what I expected.