Podophobia, Newborn Difficulties, & Sleep Talk
September 14, 2011
Definition: a typical phobic condition in which you feel disturbed and irritated when you look at feet, touch feet (may be yours or someone else’s) or even talk about feet. You even dislike people coming and touching your own foot. The feeling is unexplainable.
(Thanks to Phobia Fear Release for that excellent definition.)
My name is Sarah, and I’m a podophobic.
It’s true. I have an irrational dislike of feat. I might even consider it a fear of sorts.
How do I know I have a problem?
I pick up Taylor’s socks with a t-shirt when transporting them to the laundry room. Oh, and I get really sweaty and my heart starts racing if someone’s bare foot touches me. Well, and then there’s the anxiety I feel when someone plays with their own feet.
I can tell you at any given moment where people’s feet are in relation to me and whether or not they are doing something offensive with them (men in flip flops, close proximity to mine, extraordinarily long nails, etc.).
My fear is certainly irrational. I get that. A lot of people don’t understand my anxiety, so they either a) make fun of me, which is probably deserved or b) try to “test” me. If you fall in the latter category, I will beat you to a pulp. In sisterly love, of course. I don’t laugh; I get seriously angry.
For educational purposes, I made a diagram of my level anxiety in relation to the presentation of a foot near me.
The top face is death…in case that wasn’t portrayed clearly.
What’s funny about all of this? Nothing. I have a phobia that I deal with every day of my life.
Just kidding. Sort of.
What’s funny is that Taylor and I created a child with the biggest feet in the world.
So the picture is a little disproportionate, but he does have very large feet. When he was born, the nurses all commented to each other on how large they were. He also outgrew his newborn socks…the day he was born. I suspect he’ll be walking on those bad boys by month 3.
I was really nervous about how my little foot issue would be with my baby. Good news: I like his feet. I touch them, in fact.
I don’t know how long I’ll touch them. I’m guessing they’ll fall into the normal (read: gross) foot category around year 3. Until then, I shall touch them gingerly. On occasion.
Having a newborn is exhausting and exciting at the same time. I was semi-prepared for the amount of nonsensical fussing and numerous diaper blowouts, but I was not prepared for a few things. I’m sure this list will continue to grow, but here’s where we’re at right now:
Clipping fingernails. Are you kidding me? The things are paper thin and completely blend in with the baby’s skin. This is one of the hardest tasks yet. Plus, who knew they grew so fast? I feel like I’m constantly clipping his nails. (And maybe his skin a little. Listen – it’s hard to do! I’m doing the best I can.)
Putting clothes on. Newborns are constantly flailing their little arms and legs and flexing at inappropriate times such as diaper or outfit changes. We have a few of those gown things with elastic at the bottom for easy diaper access and let me tell you – we nearly choke the kid every time we try to put it on. It’s a very difficult process.
Laundering socks. Transporting teensie tiny baby socks all the way to the laundry room without dropping any takes incredible concentration and skill. I’d imagine you could teach whole classes on how to do this.
Carrying car seats. Maybe this is just a user error and no one else has trouble, but Taylor and I are terrible at carrying his car seat. We slam it into every door, wall, table, person, and checkout counter in sight.
There’s more, like cleaning the dirt out of all the little crevices of babies, or trying to put a baby to sleep without falling asleep yourself…I’ll save them for another time.
We’re still going strong talking in our sleep due to sleep deprivation. By “we” I mean Taylor. I may say things too, but there’s no way Taylor would wake up and hear it. He sleeps like a rock.
Some of my favorites this past week are below. Keep in mind that Taylor is completely asleep during these “conversations”. They also happen when I’m getting back into bed from feeding Beckett…
(Baby was in bed the whole time.)
(No game is being played here. Just me, getting in bed.)
…and then the one-liners. My favorites:
We should turn it into a 2 1/2 inch frame instead of a 9 inch frame.
(said while laughing…a lot)
Are y’all leaving the old man behind?
The weird stuff Taylor says provides great comic relief during extreme exhaustion. It’s especially funny how angry he gets when I don’t understand what he’s saying. He huffs at me a lot when I ask follow-up questions to his ridiculous sleep talk.
I hope Beckett is a sleep talker. In the meantime, I hope he’s a sleeper. Just a sleeper.
Bonus! A cute picture after his first real bath. (Dang cord stump finally fell off.)