Talking dogs

In the beginning there was an adorable baby who I’d waited almost 10 uncomfortable months for. A baby who didn’t mind sleeping, and loved to eat and snuggle and all other things reminicent of rainbows and unicorns. Then I began to realize that the cries sometimes overshadow the adorable empty stares or the perfect, chubby baby skin.

Motherhood is absurd. Babies are even crazier. I wracked my brain in trying to decide what to write my post about because in just four short weeks of his life, I’ve spent my days tending to his every need and staring at him while he sleeps. But before I get into those details, allow me to introduce you to my theory of baby-rearing: Babies are like dogs. And when they begin to talk, they are like talking dogs.

Any resemblance so far? Eh maybe not. But I have to admit that my extensive experience of raising dogs has prepared me substantially for the foolery. The nerves are the same, as are the goals — keep the creature alive and happy. So here, on this blog I will you you readers my list of good intentions.

I plan to give you 100% honesty. There was nothing cute about pregnancy and I’m learning the same about motherhood as I scrape baby spit off of my favorite shirt.

I’ll to try my hardest to be informative. With that said, if I was smart enough to be a doctor, I would be charging millions for my services and I would have bought my newborn child a lamborghini. So take all my medical ramblings with many, many grains of salt.

I’ll try my hardest to not go on and on about my dogs. Although I am their mom too (judge away), so maybe not.