Ah, memories. Of, like, say, the pump & dump.

So I caught the last half of that new series, Up All Night. That would be the one about first-time parents struggling with the demands of a, oh, I’d say, 6-month-old baby.

So the scene that sent Hubs and I into fits of laughter was the one of the parents out on the town, partying, singing, celebrating their brief taste of freedom …

Because you know where this goes, right?

Two hungover, miserable adults and a teeny-tiny human whose needs must still be met the next morning.

The only thing they left out was the obligatory pump & dump. (Guys reading this — go ask your wives or significant others.)

Nothing tests a marriage like a newborn.

A baby is the lit fuse and your marriage is the bomb that will either be dismantled, preferably via therapist or by a sane, non-sleep-deprived adult, or, not so ideally, detonated.

It’s a fight for survival and while you may loathe your spouse at times (like when he’s able to sleep AND snore while the baby screams), you also are desperately afraid that he will die and leave you to cope, all alone, in this new alien world where nobody (except your spouse) ever sleeps. Lord knows the baby doesn’t.

Anyway.

Now we’re watching Free Agents. And oh my — I think the new-baby stage of life was far easier than the single-and-dating one.

 

3 thoughts on “Ah, memories. Of, like, say, the pump & dump.

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