Let's wrap this up.

Two months into motherhood my house began to look like an episode of Hoarding: Buried Alive. I wish I could blame this on some medical issue or even sheer laziness, but I can't. I have to blame it on--  Oliver. He loved being held. In fact, he only loved being held. He'd fall asleep and get floppy little limbs. As soon as his diaper hit a flat surface his whole body jerked. The alarm had been sounded. He was, awake.

Don't get me wrong. I loved holding him. I couldn't get enough of him. I could've held him for a year and not minded, but when I saw a tumble weed made of dog hair rambling through my kitchen I knew something had to give.

When he was in utero he was held all the time, and I guess he thought the outside world should work the same way. My in-laws gave us a baby carrier. They're missionaries to Japan, and they bought it for us a a gift. The carrier could function four different ways, but it came with directions in Japanese. Um, by the time I learned to read  them Oliver would be in kindergarten, and I do hope he's past this phase in life by then. (My husband did figure it out, and it's adjusted to fit him. It makes him feel special.)

I decided to try a Moby wrap. This better work, I thought. It costs $40, and it's just a piece of fabric! Boy, is it a piece of fabric. I opened the package and thought I had found Mary Poppins floral duffle bag. It kept coming and coming. I stood in a pile of green fabric and began to slowly pull it all together. I wrapped and pulled and tied it.

I decided to take it for a test drive. Getting the baby into the wrap is just as tricky as putting the thing on. I put Oliver in, and he loved it! He rode around in it and not one of his limbs went numb, so that's a success as far as I'm concerned.

He fell asleep in the wrap for two hours. I didn't know he could sleep that long. I cleaned everything I could get my hands on. I windexed things that should not be windexed. I was unstoppable. My house was spotless, my child was happy, and for the first time in awhile, I didn't have anything to blame on Oliver.

Shoot, I wear the wrap in stores too. I put it on before I leave the house. Sure, people probably think I'm part of some strange cult, or worse, that I'm crunchy. They can think whatever they want. I don't have to lug around a stroller, and I can use both hands at all times. Oliver takes in the world around him, and I think he likes the view. Looking down on his fuzzy little head and fat limbs, I have to say, I think I like it too.