How does a crying baby know if you’re sitting or standing? I mean, how does he knooooow? Why is being over my shoulder at an altitude of five feet so much better than three feet? And while we’re on the subject, how do they know exactly when you’re walking out the door?

I already know that I have the best babies. Don’t try to tell me any differently. They are always the cutest, the cuddliest, the sweetest I’ve ever seen. (The fact that they have only an ordinary mother to show for themselves is a cross that they will have to carry in life. You can’t win them all, you know.) Yes, I’m still in the newborn fog: happy, in-love, and…tired.

It is in this tired state that one shouldn’t make huge decisions. I’ve learned this. That’s why I’m mentioning it. You shouldn’t chop off all your hair, hock your maternity clothes, and tell your husband that he needs to find a permanent housekeeper because you just quit—at least, not all in the same week. No, after a woman has a baby, she should not operate heavy machinery, sign legal documents, or visit the hairdresser. When one is sleep deprived, one doesn’t necessarily think through the consequences of one’s decision. That’s why if you color your hair, you should use the washable kind.

No, I didn’t chop off my hair, but I did gather my maternity clothes to go out on loan. But this time, I put my initials on them. Because you just never know.