I couldn’t even talk about it until it was over. But we did it. WE. DID. IT. We put our colick

I couldn’t even talk about it until it was over.

But we did it. WE. DID. IT.

We put our colicky Pickle in her car seat and left our home womb so we could watch my husband’s sister get married.

For WEEKS I’d imagined every horrific scenario, which ended in some variation of me sprinting away with my howling baby and spending the entire day in the car while Pickle and I wailed and wailed until the cows came home.

But that didn’t happen.

Hazel slept on the way, almost the entire two hours. Then she proceeded to smile and coo through the ceremony, after which she promptly fell asleep in the white noise cocoon I created for her in the stroller. We were actually able to eat something, have a beer, and talk to other humans. For like, twenty minutes. People, I haven’t had twenty minutes to do nothing but look nice in a pretty dress for the better part of a year. For the first time in what felt like a billion centuries, I heard myself laugh and it wasn’t laced with delirium or that angrier stuff we moms have to squeeze out lest we end up a corner and a party-size bag of Cheddar and Sour Cream Ruffles.

In short, it was friggin’ bliss.

I was okay. Delightful, even. Perhaps that’s pushing things a bit, but I didn’t cuss NEARLY as much as I thought I would, though I MAY have hissed and clawed a tad when someone suggested waking her up for pictures, cause that shit wudn’t gonna happen.

Ya’ll I’m a pill. I can be charming when the moment demands it, but mostly I’m just anxiety wrapped in skin; like a pig in a blanket - I’m stress in a flesh-suit.

When my husband asked if I preferred to sit in the backseat with Hazel or drive, I snarled-scoffed, “Um, OBVIOUSLY I’m driving.” Nothing terrifies me more than being confined with a screaming child.

For the duration of the trip I sat up front, all inflamed and threaten-y and tense. Like an angry butthole. And when Hazel so much as sighed, I proceeded to yell-whisper at my husband, “I TOLD you this was a terrible idea. What were you THINKING?”

My husband is an angel. Like, legit angelic. He is calm and patient and gives me all the room I need to melt and boil, then builds the grace-stoned path for me to crawl home.
#blessed