Infancy Sucks And That's Okay

My son, who I'll call "Punkin," for the sake of protecting the innocent, is 4 weeks old. Because my daughter, "Peach," had colic, I spent that first 4 weeks waiting for the other shoe to drop. To be honest, it may have, and I could be in denial. But so far, I think I'm willing to say he doesn't have it.

Instead, we have something else... something far less curable... we have an infant. A perfectly normal, fully functional, infant. And that leads me to this next statement, which for some reason, people tend to not want to say out loud:

Infancy sucks.

That's not even quite appropriate. Let me try again: infancy is the fifth ring of hell.

This tiny little thing who could probably fit in my diaper bag (a word on the misery of diaper bags later) has managed to completely take over every room of our 2500 square foot, 4 bedroom, two and a half bath house. 453 Bottles, 2987 blankets, 10,000 diapers, 1 diaper pail, 100 plastic bags to put diapers in before using the diaper pail (because those things don't work), 1400 gallons of formula (why don't they sell these in kegs?), 50,000 wipes (half of which get used on one pooping blowout per day), 2 bouncy seats (one for each floor of the house), the monitor (which has a constant static noise because something's interfering with it... I can't find what), 2 Sleep Sheeps (great little invention), 800 receiving blankets (most of which have little spit up stains on them but I can't tell which ones are dirty and which aren't), and 3,954,899 pacifiers (all different brands, and all but 2 of which have been rejected) now occupy every inch of previously unused space in this house.

Why? Because parents like us will do absolutely anything to keep an infant "happy." Or, more appropriately, "not unhappy."

Is there anything wrong with saying that infancy is the worst stage of parenting? Why are parents supposed to tell the world that this screaming alien in their house who's taken over their lives and transformed them from the intelligent, reasonable people they were into irrational, insane, blubbering disasters that everything's great? Why do we call these aliens "bundles of joy?"

I know Punkin will eventually be a bundle of joy because my 4 year old daughter proved that. But he isn't now.

And that leads me to the reason I'm starting this blog today... to take a stand and say out loud that this stage of infancy, when the baby doesn't sleep and we, as parents, don't know him yet, just plain sucks. There's nothing wrong with admitting we're tired and miserable and need help.

I welcome anyone's comments, stories, suggestions, and tips for what worked for them. Questions are fantastic- answers are even better. Let's get through this together until we finally get out of this stage of craziness!

Here's my first tip:

For those using powdered formula (don't get me started on the breastfeeding vs. formula): you know those gas drops? Mylicon is the most popular brand. Here's what they DO work for... when mixing a bottle of formula, add one drop for every two ounces of water (or one drop per scoop... it doesn't have to be exact). When you shake the bottle, the gas drops will keep the formula from getting all foamy. And don't worry about getting the brand name. The store brands (Target, Walmart, and Walgreens all have them) works just as well and cost a fraction of the amount.