And once that baby comes along, you stop sleeping and start stressing about how much the baby is eating and pooping and you think, "My life has changed! For-ev-er. And its all about poop! And boobs! What have we done!?" (But you never say that aloud because then somehow that would qualify you as a bad parent.)
And then four months later, life changes again and suddenly you have a little person that you stress about meeting his milestones and other things that seem really important. And you still might once in awhile think "What have we gotten ourselves into" but only once in awhile. Your life has again changed for-ev-er. But now you carry a ginormous diaper bag around with you wherever you go with enough extra clothes, diapers, and toys to last a week. And all your purse junk is thrown in there too. And your house doesn't really look like your house anymore- or it does, but like the Chuck E. Cheese people came and redecorated because for some reason, every single baby toy has to be primary colored and obnoxiously plastic. And make a lot of noise. Your conversations change to all things baby and strangers and loved ones alike no longer acknowledge your presence but only the baby's... which isn't that big of a deal for some reason.
Another few months fly by with lots and lots of changes. And you once in awhile think back to those early days and shake your head at your over stressed, sleep deprived self for freaking out about so many things. But in the back of your mind you know that in a few months there will be more changes and you'll look back and wonder why you freaked out about whatever you're currently freaking out about... but you'll probably still freak out about whatever that thing is, at least for a little while longer. (Still with me?)
I've been thinking about some of the changes in my life recently. How I now buy a gallon and a half of milk each week- and I don't drink a drop of it. And how I've become an expert at spotting big trucks that I know Corbin can spy from his backwards facing car seat and pointing them out.
Sleeping in now means 7:30 am... not 9 or 10 (or 11!). Successful house cleaning is getting the goldfish crackers swept up and not necessarily mopping and doing the windows (ha!).
Utilizing our church nursery on Sundays is one of the greatest things ever- free baby sitting!- we no longer drop off the Bean with trepidation and nervously check our pager every few minutes for a call to come console a crying baby.
I have become adept at making dinner with a baby climbing my legs and can put on makeup and do my hair bouncing one on my hip... or at least entertaining with hair brushes and rubber bands.
I regularly spot clean gross bodily fluids off of my clothing without feeling the need to change my shirt or throw up. I'll leave it at that.
Making and creating things that make Corbin squeal or coo... or just make him look really cool dominate my pinterest boards and my sewing table.
And I've discovered that watching Mr. Incredible push the lawn mower back and forth while a little boy snuggles in my arms in awe of a new machine is a pretty fine way to wrap up a day.
Yeah, having a baby changes your life for-ev-er. And I'm grateful for those changes.