I’ve become addicted to Googling. Once a frequent and irresponsible drunk texter (my bad, ex-boyfriends and flings) I am now working my fingers to the bone at all hours of the day and night, writing out things like: “how do you know when to go up a diaper size,” “newborn poop with images, “and “red butt hole newborns.”
To think I once frantically typed, “I want to fuck.”
But now, I am a mom. Mami. Mother. The definition of adulting. Every minute of my day consists of feeding Evan, pumping breast milk for Evan, preparing said milk plus formula for Evan, rocking Evan to sleep, pounding Evan’s back to alleviate his gas, praying to God all mighty for a burb or fart, hoping Evan’s sleep doesn’t get disrupted by spit up, and when it does, Googling, “ways to alleviate gas in newborns.”
Sometimes I find the time to pause and breathe and think of my life before Mamihood. I wonder how I will possibly manage regularly writing and editing on LoveSujeiry.com again, and working on radio and TV (I have new projects pending, waiting for my return from maternity leave) – all while being a stay at home mom. How the fuck does this work? I have help from Boo and still I find it unfathomable to do it all.
I’ll say it again, “Fuuuuuuck!” Cause I am not cursing in front of Evan.
What I do know is that I adore my little boy.
And Google! I may not have all the answers. I am still figuring out Evan and his needs. But I do know that I am not alone. Google often leads me to the What to Expect and Baby Center forums where mothers are just as confused, exhausted, happy, concerned and in love with their babies as I am. I find gems like these:
“We’ve got the acid poop going on right now and nathan has a red butthole too.” Um, hilarious.
“I stopped using Wipes and I put a thick coat of Butt Paste on the rash after every change. It cleared in about a week.” Ditto on Butt Paste. It’s the ass crack savior!
“I have always had zero interest in breastfeeding and now that I’m facing down the decision to formula feed vs breastfeed, I’m having some guilt and lots of anxiety.” I hear ya, sister.
So, this new addiction is actually helping me. Unlike drunk texting, where the end result was often me in tears, I am finding solace in Google. It may not have all the answers or even be correct most of the time, but this new addiction keeps me somewhat sane while I navigate a sea of dirty diapers, feedings, fluctuating moods and feelings and fire-engine assholes.