I rubbed the inside of a grape on my baby’s pacifier so he would keep it in his mouth…
OK sickos, I mean that statement literally… a red seedless, an Avent pacifier, a newborn baby… not whatever weird shit you were picturing - find Jesus please!
I’ve noticed that the moment I become motivated to be productive, Bear protests. I’ve been testing this theory, even challenging myself to think about empty headed things like bubble gum pops and lightening bugs when I’m around him and, per my hypothesis, Bear remains fast asleep. When I start contemplating how I’m going to earn money to pay my bills, he begins a-stirring and kicks his blankets off… open my laptop to follow up with clients or leads, now whimpering and thrashing. Get on the phone with a qualified buyer or a listing agent… ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE!
What are you supposed to you do when your baby just starts screaming from a dead sleep? Mind you he has no discernible troubles. Unlike other newborns, mine is not a Vietnam vet waking from a fever dream in a cold sweat and reaching for the bottle of whiskey on his nightstand trying to manage his survivor’s guilt.
He’s a BABY.
Full bellied, clean diapered, bundled up and laying on an actual cloud I purchased from the sky. He barely has a social security number, no herpes, no crazy baby momma…why are you crying Brother (Hulk Hogan voice)?
It’s weird being on the phone with someone you don’t know and your baby starts wilin’. At first I pretend it’s not happening praying he will have some mercy on me and fall back to sleep. I try to telepathically communicate with him about the concepts of “bills” and “foreclosure” and “food pantries” if I’m unable to complete my work due to him poppin’ off. He doesn’t give a shit, his food source is free and abundant… if my boobs dry out due to starvation, he’s cute enough to get himself another set and leave my hollow shell behind. He knows this.
Then as the screaming continues, I pretend it’s common place, briefly mentioning “ah that’s my son hahaha, just a little fussy hahahah… anyways any chance the sellers can do a full 2% for us?” Meanwhile the listing agent is asking me to repeat myself 100 times because it’s hard to hear me over blood-curdling screams (especially when I’m doing my “professional voice” on the phone which sounds a lot like an NPR host).
His pacifier doesn’t help in these instances. He knows it’s a ploy; it’s an empty piece of rubber that will provide him minor comfort while giving me major relief…
So fuck that right? No can-do, Mom right?
WRONG. NOT TUHDAY! Today momma is using her noodle. He may spat out his paci when it’s a sterile rubber flavor but what if it’s more than that? What if I rub some yummy shit on it and give it some utility to him? These are the thoughts of a desperate new mom on the phone trying to get her clients a great deal on a house while her baby is entering another dimension using the calls of the wild.
So I did it. I had a grape. I bit it in half and coated that paci with some grape drank and popped that sucker in his mouth. Boom. Silence. The Bear became wide eyed realizing the power of sugar and, I think, made a silent but meaningful future commitment to the #sugarlife.
Judge all you want fellow moms. It wasn’t beer and we got the house.