Snippets and Stories: Just another evening with a newborn

Claire is only 3, but apparently, Brad and I have forgotten basically everything about what life was like with a newborn. How that's possible is just beyond me, and yet. We've seemingly forgotten things like blow-outs and spit up and the poor timing that newborns have when doing those things. For example...

About 10 days after Lily was born, our friend, Hillary, was bringing dinner over. Brad actually had somewhere to go for dinner that evening but was holding Lily while I finished baking some banana bread for him to take with him. Things were going so well...until they weren't. At the same time, the banana bread (a recipe I have made MANY times and have never had a problem with) started to burn, AND Lily had a blowout that soaked Brad and puddled on the floor. Hillary had already texted me that she was on her way, so I knew we had mere minutes to try to rid the kitchen of the burnt smell, attempt to salvage some banana bread, clean Brad up, and change Lily.

Brad was desperate for me to help him, and simultaneously, I needed to deal with the burning banana bread so we didn't end up with a smoke detector situation. Thankfully, my mom was still here, so after I pulled the bread out of the oven and started up the vent, she took over salvaging the banana bread so I could help Brad (note: I still have no idea what happened. At all.). I took Lily to start cleaning her up, and Brad frantically started to change his clothes. At one point, he shut the front door (we had it open with just the storm door closed), which greatly upset Claire. She thought that by closing the door we weren't going to let any friends come in. So, while we're all tending our respective situations, Brad hollers to Claire, "We have to close the door so daddy can take off his clothes!" At which point Mom and I laugh hysterically and Brad attempts to restate his meaning in a less shady-sounding way.

Mom managed to semi-salvage the banana bread (enough for Brad to take a decent-looking plate of it to his dinner), and Brad got his clothes changed. I was doing well with getting Lily cleaned up (clothes, diaper, skin) when Hillary arrived. And at that very moment, Lily spit up in a spectacular way; she covered herself, me, the floor, part of the couch, and the coffee table with spit up. She was very thorough.

Thankfully, Hillary has her own 3-year-old and 6-month-old, so she had nothing but sympathy and a few chuckles for us (plus a fantastic dinner). We chalked the whole series of events up to "we have a newborn and this is what they do + how could we have forgotten so soon?" We're probably going to use that line of reasoning for a loooong time. Until it's no longer socially acceptable.

Bless us all.