You would think that I am torturing Evvy when putting these baby clothes on her. Who is making these onesies? An evil? Getting her arms in is like, well, pushing a baby out of a vagina...it's meant to be but with strings attached: pain, crying, stitches. If it were up to me, Evvy would be in a pamper. Just a pamper.
And at night, Meesh just loves putting Evvy in these beautiful organic pajamas that have 6 thousand buttons. So when I get up to do the 5:30 breast milk bottle feeding (by the way, ever seen a woman pump in a hands free boob shirt? UTTERly hysterical...Meesh walks around while the bottles fill up, takes phone calls, writes thank you notes, why just yesterday I saw her doing her nails whilst a machine sucked milk from her bosom) I have to go through a screaming mine field. I've tried doing the pull-off-every-button-in-one-fell-swoop but Evvy was all "Dad, are you fucking kidding?" So instead, with flailing arms and kicking legs (p.s. this lady is mad strong) I attempt to un-button...and any given button could take more than a proper minute as I try to re-direct her limbs. Who invented this shit? "I have an idea, lets make the clothes super impossible to get off quickly so when the baby has a dump in their pants and a suckling mouth the Dad can get really stressed out and start sweating before sunrise."
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zippers. search high and low for the ones with the zippers (Hannah Andersson makes organic cotton ones with zippers).
But the buttons do get easier. There was a whole cadre of clothes I denied hard core and then when buttons got easier, it was like I had a pile of new clothes. Christmas.
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