Tell me you have a newborn without telling me you have a newborn

You have had your nose almost broken by a baby head-butt.

Your standard for wearable clothes is “only a little vomit on the shoulder.”

You have fallen asleep on a surface that is not your bed in the last week.

Tracking time is now impossible, since there is no day and no night.

At the same time, you can’t remember the last time you missed the sunrise.

Patience is a virtue for other people. You want to murder your partner if they so much as sneeze.

You know the names of every major company making strollers, down to the umlaut. 

You’ve had to help someone else poop.

You haven’t changed your bra in…. You can’t remember the last time you changed your bra.

You turn on the closed-captions on the tv because you can’t process anything without written instructions anymore.

Your bed is covered in laundry that might have been clean once, maybe.

You have at least three baby monitors in your house: one that has sound but no picture, one that has picture but no sound, and one that has both, but makes a loud beeping sound when the battery is low.

You hate that last baby monitor SO much.

Your friends fall into 2 groups: people who are on Facebook at 3am, and people you used to know better.

You are constantly convinced that your baby is screaming because of teething, even though no teeth ever seem to show up when you expect them.

An old lady has shouted at you about putting a hat on your baby.

Your email account has at least 2,000 unopened emails. Half of them are from BabyCenter.

You have experienced the unbelievable sharpness of baby fingernails, usually right near your eye or across your upper lip, giving you an angry, thin mustache of pain.

You have closed your eyes and inhaled deeply against a small fuzzy head, and that fixes everything.