Baring All

So I'm sitting on the couch in the living room--the place where I spend the majority of my resting hours, now that there's a baby in my life. There's a little watery sunlight coming in through the window and there's a chill in the air, but I'm topless. Blogging topless (about to breatfeed--I just wanted to add. It's not like I blithely sit around half-naked for the tingly pleasure of it).

Here's the thing about being a new mom. It's going to seem as if you're constantly in some state of undress or other. If you're breastfeeding, then get used to the girls hanging out, fully exposed, for many hours of the day. Even if you're not, though, amongst the many activities that baby will seem to purposefully interrupt, such as eating, sleeping, emailing, etc., changing clothes will be another. And you'll find yourself rushing to your screaming baby's side, wearing maybe a scarf, one sock--and your panties, if you're lucky. If the people in the building opposite ours were of the pervy, binocular-wielding variety, they'd get an eyeful.

My next-door neighbors surely get an earful, since the soundproofing in this apartment--yeah, there isn't any. As if piercing infant cries and badly sung (by me) songs aren't enough to endure, the people on our floor might also be unfortunate enough to overhear such choice tidbits that I call out to my fussing baby as: "Okay, okay, look! I'm taking off my shirt. Look, your favorite breasts!" and "Okay, okay, just a sec. I'm just going to the bathroom. No good? Okay, here, I'll let you watch me."