The New World

Babies are a lot of work. Everytime I go out somewhere with her, I have to bring half of our house along with me. Yet, I go out more often now than I did before. Why? Well, when you are a new mom it is very easy to suffer from cabin fever. Plus, there are mommy groups to belong to, and we have started baby swimming. She looks incredibly cute in her swimsuit, even though she doesn't wear it. Instead she just wears a swimming diaper. I would never have known they make such a thing.
OKay, so in Norway they are really big on mommy groups. They arrange get togethers for all new moms in the area you live in. It's not the most exciting happening around town, but it's nice to go out and not have to worry about keeping your baby quiet. They also have baby cinema days here, where moms and babies can go. They have changing tables set up, and noone cares if your baby cries. I haven't gone yet. I can manage my baby crying, but I don't know about a whole room full of babies.
She is almost 3 months old. The time is going by so fast. In July I will be 30 years old. I am having trouble with that. Having a baby is fine. Turning 30 is not.
We are trying to plan a trip home to Regina in the summer. My parents can't wait to see their first grandchild, and I can't wait for the restaurant prices. And the chinese food. You would never think that Regina is the place for chinese food, that is until you've been to Norway.
So, even though our little sweetheart is so much work, I never get tired of her. Or of taking care of her. Sometimes I feel like I am living in a hallmark card.
'Cherishing the moments that make you heart smile' or something like that...
I've become so gushy.
Don't get me wrong though. I still have my moments. Like when I go outside and the neighbours are sitting outside in the sun frowning at me and I think to myself, 'who are you frowning at? You're 100 years old sitting outside in your bra and panties. I'm fully clothed.'
Or when I'm putting the stroller on the bus, and the bus driver closes the doors on my arms and I give him dirty looks for the whole ride home, hoping he'll close the door on his face.
And when I get together with my american friend (sounds like my american cousin), and we make fun of every norwegian thing we can. Like hearing norwegians swear in english. The meaning of norwegian swear words. Their interpretation of north american culture. All funny things.
So I have become lovey dovey, but I am still trying to nurture my sense of sarcasm and irony. After all, I have to have something to teach my daughter.