Childrearing

My Fiancé And I Are Celebrating Surviving Our Baby’s First Year Without Killing Each Other

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1st birthday cupcakeMy son celebrated his first birthday this summer and the fiancé and I are still celebrating. We’re still celebrating because our baby is one, yes, and we did not kill our baby, true. Mostly we’re still celebrating because we didn’t kill each other. Cheers!

I have always said to new parents, “If you can make it through that first year together, you’re golden!” Either a new baby will bring a couple closer, and you’ll see a lovely new side to your spouse, or a new baby will tear your relationship apart with arguments you’d never have seen coming. Or it could be a mixture of both.

When I had my daughter, I couldn’t believe how many times I’d call and ask her father at the office, “When are you coming home?”

I had never really asked him this before we had our daughter, and if I had, he wouldn’t have answered so shortly, “I don’t know Beck! For the hundredth time, I’ll be home when I get home. It’s, like, 11 o’clock in the morning!”

Numerous times he hung up on me. And I never thought I’d be the type to be saying to him, “On your way home, you need to pick up Elmo diapers. She only likes to wear Elmo diapers,” which he totally didn’t get, and neither did I, but it was a hell of a lot easier just putting her into the diapers she liked, so I’d go through the box of Sesame street diapers, looking for the Elmo ones, like I was a rock star who demanded only the red M&M’s.

I’m not a nag. I hate nagging even more than I hate naggers. But having a baby turns you into one and suddenly you’re like, “Oh my god. Who AM I?” You will hear yourself say, “What do you mean you didn’t stop for milk? I TOLD you we needed more milk!”

bitch wtf

And you, or your spouse, will for sure find yourself at an all-night gas station somewhere in town, buying milk at midnight or some 24-hour drug store to buy diapers, because you have just run out and SOMEONE has to get them and no one wants to go out that late, and so you just get mad. Then you will hear the, “I got up with him at 5:30 a.m. two days in a row. It’s your turn!” Or you’ll end up saying, “I put him to bed three nights this week. It’s your turn tonight.”

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