When I was a kid, I read my baby book that my mother had written in for me. And since I was the third, kudos to her for scrawling anything down. Next to my name, the book asked, “Who is the baby named for?” My mother wrote: “herself.” I always liked that. Now, maybe if I had had a loveable Aunt Daphne I might have liked that connection… but there wasn’t anyone in my family I wanted to be named after.
I’ve been fighting the good fight and soldiering on as my mom would say, but I’m pooped. Two kids, working, wifeager to my husband’s career, I can keep the balls in the air okay, but Rex waking up like he does is starting to CRACK ME. Crying babies in the night remind me of when I dated an alcoholic. At night is when is when he was his most belligerent, verbally abusive, showing erratic behavior, and then in the light of day he was full of life, smiles, buying me presents. Okay, Rex’s presents come wrapped in a diaper. But when he smiles at me and giggles, it’s like a lobster dinner.
Just called the pediatrician. I told her that after I had nursed him the in middle of last night, he would go down. I had to deal with Vivien having a bad dream and while I did that, Mark gave him a big, full bottle of breast milk. Rex then slept for almost 5 hours. Unheard of around here. So I asked the doctor, maybe I am not nursing enough for him? She said his weight and height are good, but babies go through growth spurts and to give him a bottle extra at night. I asked if I should throw in a little formula (the powder kind, not the pre-mixed stuff; he hates that) at bedtime. I think she said it’s okay, but honestly my memory ain’t what it use to be.
Just now he was fussing for nap time. I had been sucked clean, so I wrapped him up, pacifier, and vibey chair (my go-to, sure-fire tool), and he was crying. I did something I haven’t done… walked away. Let him cry. I could hear the chorus of “bad mother” in my head as I stayed away. And after 5 minutes… nothing. I crept in. He is asleep. All in the time it took me to write this.
So, time for Ferber at night? Any clues or suggestions on this time of life I would appreciate because I know I didn’t do much with Viv till she was 1. But then I wasn’t working… and I was able to hire some night-time help to ease the sleep deprivation problem.
Oh, the last picture is just Rex’s copious spit up… I gave up on dressing him by 12. He had gone through 4 outifits already.
Remember when before you were a parent, you would see a kid spazz out and think, “Well, those parents should give that kid the what for!” And then you became a parent, and you end up acting like Billy Mummy’s parents in that classic Twilight Zone, “The Good Life,” “Please don’t send us to the cornfield!” Sometimes it’s easier to pretend you are a special ed teacher (not that I have any idea what that is really like), or dealing with sensitive people with traumas. This is one of those times.
One of my favorite people to follow on twitter is Nicholas Kristof. He is a columnist for the NY Times, and his twitter just alerted me to the fact that this week is world breastfeeding week. Kristof points out that encouraging breastfeeding can save lives in developing nations. Too often the discussion of breastfeeding is a tad myopic (like most things). As an avid breastfeeder, I liked being reminded of how vital it is in places where resources are limited. It’s not a choice issue like it is here; it’s vital.
I love the bonding time with my son, but I also use it as an excuse to read the morning paper and watch my TiVoed shows. I nursed Vivien till she was about 2 years and 2 months. How lucky I am to be able to nurse in my calm, non-war-torn nation with Trader Joe’s a few blocks away. Color me spoiled.
So raise a breast this week; its importance can’t be underestimated.
I have shots of me breastfeeding but didn’t post them. I was a little uncomfortable with showing the world my areola, but more uncomfortable with the double chin I have when lying down. And I love this picture with my breastfed babies at a park we went to in Santa Fe.
Oh, god, meant to post this Saturday… but the mom brain is not firing these days. I was on a plane to SF for a night and thought… now what have I forgotten?? Oh, new post, that’s right.
I did dress myself and go for 22 hours up to San Francisco by myself for my goddaughter’s 2nd birthday. It was great to see some of my best girlfriends. I’m always stressed leaving my kids and ready to abort the trip at any moment, but it was fun to be at a pool party and realize I didn’t have to watch out for anyone; if I heard a cry, it wasn’t mine. I did have to do a lot of pumping and battled with the TSA to get my blue ice pack on the plane.
But I digress, I think this is one of the funniest Momversations we have done. The editing makes it… and of course my flimsy robe!
Hey, I bet many people are naked when they are at the computer… hmm, but I digress.