The Parent Thing

I feel like we are figuring out how to survive this parent thing--basically, all is good if the baby is eating, sleeping, or being held. He doesn't mind diapers, baths, or much of anything IF you are holding him. If I am alone, however, and need to go to the bathroom, or do anything without holding him, and he is awake, cries of tragic proportions may be heard. But, if there are two of us, we can go through a whole day and night with almost no crying. It is enough to make one feel supremely competent, even when slurring speech from lack of sleep. It also helps that we are both increasingly smitten with the creature. It was so cool watching Will last night when he came home from teaching. He was so enchanted. He kept saying that Emmett is perfect, amazing, and wonderful. It is really fun to watch their love affair. Basically, if we never had to do anything but parent, we would be awesome. But, alas, Will has to work, I have a paper to finish, letters of rec to write, and we have our own corporeal and spiritual needs to meet. It is incredible that so many people do this, and so often without the time off or institutional support. Parents rock... and special hats off to women since they have to birth and may take on the massive bodily effort of nursing... which really, really sucks, btw. They say it gets better, but it seems so wrong that the start is so ridiculously rough (not universally, but very frequently and definitely in my case). I am very impressed that humans are not extinct. Something so "natural" and necessary for survival should not be so agonizing. But, then again, as Nietzsche observes, life is agon rather than harmony. Emmett's t-shirt, a gift from aunt Carrie, acknowledges a mother's Dionysian suffering. Thanks, C.