Today at work my friend was complaining (and complaining) that her baby had constipation and she had been sooooooo anxious about it that she couldn’t sleep at night for weeks and life had been terrible. Then she discovered Miralax and life was good again.
I never found it interesting to hear these stories before I came a mom. Maybe it was because I didn’t marry until 33 or have a baby until 34, and because I spent my twenties on the outside of motherhood looking in–but I still don’t find that stuff interesting. I don’t feel much kinship with the “mommies” at work, or anywhere else.
Part of that may be that my dad is so ill, I’m somewhat older than most of these women (who are all on their second or third child) and nobody else I know right now has a similar set of problems to me.
I just got a message saying I’ve nearly run through my cell minutes for the month, with two weeks to go. I need my cell to communicate because this is a crisis situation. Boy, when it rains, it pours.