How Things are Not the Same; 10 Ways My Baby Changed My Life

Such a bleh boring Title, right? Brace yourself.

I bought this domain when Sassi was born last year. Naturally (or not!) I wasn’t able to write as often as I had preempted.

Nothing was as I had preempted.

Life took a 180 degree turn.

1. Melatonin Extraordinaire

Sleep returned to my life (anyone who knows me a smidge, know I never slept.) or Sleepiness returned, I’d rather say. However even with the baby I was clocking in far more hours of sleep in 24 hrs than I had done in decades.

2. We Don’t Need No…

I couldn’t read! Books were out of my life. I loved the replacement Sassi but my days seem hollow without my books. I’d read 3-5 books per week at the very least and here I am sitting over a year later having read TWO books. Facepalm.

3. Writer’s Block

I couldn’t write any longer. It’s not that I didn’t have anything to write about, I have more than I’ve ever had! A growing baby! I promise you it’s a great muse to have. I actually COULDN’T write. Every waking minute she needs my undivided attention. I do conference calls while I hold her leg to keep her from jumping off the sofa. Writing is out of question. Right now, you ask? She’s gnawing on my boob, while asleep and wriggling like a contortionist. Almost a downward dog while she is STILL attached to my breast. Anyone insure boobs? Anyone?

4. Multivitamins Are For Real

I’ve always been known for some very important things in life. Buying multivitamins to keep on my work station, stare at it right through to expiry and then chuck it in the bin? Yeah that’s one of them.

First time ever in my then 34 year old life did I see an empty bottle of multivitamins.

I didn’t even know what it looked like to shake it and not hear it like maracas that go chick-chicky-boom, chick-chicky-boom!

5. Breakfast “CHAMPION! something something CHAMPION!” 🎼

When I was in nursery, (Montessori. NURSERY. KG. One. Two. Three…) my teacher allegedly used to yell at me in front of the class that she has milk every day and comes to school only to vomit. (Roz doodh pii ke aa jaati hai ulti karnay)

See I am the vomit queen since my very early years. Any strong emotion will only have one expression. You got it. Vomit.

I’m anxious. I’m excited. I’m nervous. I’m upset. Everything makes me nauseous. School mornings for reasons aforementioned and separation anxiety with daddy at the gate would always ALWAYS make me anxious and so I’d vomit. Thanks to my kind teacher and her malignant ways, I never touched breakfast in my life. Just thinking of eating anything in the morning, the whole idea makes me nauseous.

However. Lo and Behold. My child will throw a fit if she doesn’t get some solids in her belly first thing in the morning. No amount of cajoling or shoving the boob in her face (in an enticing way. I promise. Nicely.) will work. She will eat like a bird but I will definitely have to roll out of bed and fix her some FRUIT AND VEGETABLES. facepalm.

My life of unhealthy snacks and no breakfast got me a kid that loves broccoli for breakfast.

*Face flop in a dish of roast dinner*

6. Cinema Hiatus

Films took an exit and I am still desolate. My love for the cinema knows no bounds. I’m the first one to catch a good, new movie. Indian, English, ANIMATED.

Last film I saw in the cinema? Boss Baby. Pun intended.

7. Punctuality is Negotiable

I come from a family of people who were turned out of the house in the am for a train at 4pm. A bit much? Yes. Not in our house. All possible things that can go wrong will be accommodated and we are a family that’s there at the weddings when the chairs are being laid out. Story of our lives.

I have been anal (for the lack of a better expression) about punctuality for as long as I can remember. No surprise there. I take pride in my family’s (what would seem to others as) madness. I’m proudly punctual. Sorry. Got the tense wrong on that one. WAS proudly punctual until I had a child.

Now I don’t commit a time. Only a range of time which I will confirm an hour in advance only. Because my child will dictate what I do with my life. Until she gets one herself.

Project Get Sassi a Life. Like soon. Please.

8. All Baubles In The Pocket!

And clips. And earrings. And bracelets. And Rings. And watches. Yup. That’s about right. Sassi loves pockets in her dresses and loves to hoard things in there only to surprise herself later and topple over laughing. This entire list of things are what I can’t use any more. I can’t tie my hair with baubles, or clips, or wear earrings, rings, bracelets or a wristwatch. She needs them instantly.

I used to be known as the gypsy at college who would wear anklets and bracelets and this and that.

I’m in rehab cold turkey.

9. My Spirit Animal is a Balloon one.

I am 3 sizes away from my prepregnant weight. I was a size 8-10. Now I’m a 14-16. I just bought a stash of cloth S from Primark that I can chuck without guilt once I’m back at my prepregnancy size (please don’t miss the intense hope in there.) Buying new clothes at a weight I’ve never been in my life (including the time I had a baby inside me) is a huge step in itself. I’m the last person to be affected by what others say, I hardly ever give a hoot but here’s the deal. My feet hurt because they were not made to carry so much weight. My back hurts because my breastfeeding boobs cause way too much strain to it. I’ll probably lose weight once I wean my child but for now I’m living at a size I’ve never been. Not complacent. Just waiting. Yes. That’s a definite first.

10. BUT… (cue Melodramatic Music)

I’m in love with a little person.

Unlike most people, I had weird ideas. I didn’t feel a thing when I first saw her heart beat. Just that maybe they played the aunty-who-went-in-before-me’s video. I just have the flu.

Or wondering how I will let an unknown new person into my life.

I’m picky as hell about friends.

How do I let this stranger into the inner circle? What if I don’t like her? What if she doesn’t like me?

14 months and I’m in love.

We have our differences. She pulled apart my original Givenchy sunglasses Faisal got me for my birthday last year (micro story: I never buy branded sunglasses because I would inevitable lose them or someone will sit on them or I’ll sit on them. Never bought a pair beyond PKR 300. Underwear is always Calvin Klein though. Sunglasses? That table set up outside Alfateh FTW) and I still haven’t forgotten her in a Waitrose aisle. Jokes apart, I only feel bad for my husband, don’t care too much at all.

She scratches when she’s angry. Cries when sleepy. Most of all, laughs uncontrollably when I get frustrated with a stuck door. BITES MY BOOBS DAMMIT.

I love her still.

Also because she gives the BEST hugs in the universe.

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