Pony, I have to admit that I find it incredibly satisfying when I get to pull out these man sized juicy milk boogers from your nose. I know you hate it, but I kind of love it. Is that weird?
Oh my love, my heart, my everything. As I was writing this you became Mrs. Fussy Pants McGee. NOTHING would soothe you, not even the ole trusty red bouncy birthing ball. I tried everything. I checked everything. You weren’t hungry. Your diaper was dry. There was no weird string wrapped around any toes. What you were was overtired. It makes no sense to me why you would NOT want to go to sleep. But then again, I’m almost 40 years older than you are and tired most of the time. All I want to do is sleep. I think it’s so easy to project my likes and dislikes on you. Like swaddling. We say you hated it, but in hindsight, I’m not sure who hated it more, you or me. Anyways, your Papa came home as you were stiff legged and crying in my lap on the ball. He promptly took you in his arms and went to his trusty go to- the pinky in the rocker. Works like a charm. Usually. Not tonight. You were punching his hand and fighting what I know you think is the good fight, but it’s not sweetheart. It really isn’t. This is not the battle to pick. Because eventually you will sleep.
SO- we did what I loathe doing but was all that was left to do. We let you cry for 10 minutes. Ugh. And you cried. And cried. And cried. While I sat outside your door and picked my cuticles until they bled. Half way through Papa went in and told you how much we love you but it didn’t make a difference. You were pretty pissed off. Understandably.
Then finally I went in, picked you up, kissed you all over and sang to you, telling you how much I love you and how hard it is when you get to that place where I can’t soothe you. Then I fed you and you passed out like a KO in the ring. It’s only 30 minutes later but you look so peaceful in your bassinet now. Like a little angel. I keep checking on you. Of course. Because honestly, that night that I put you down too soon after feeding and too close to the last feeding, when I heard you cough, and I ran in, when I saw all the milk coming out of your nose and mouth and covering your onesie and your bassinet I almost lost it. I have never been so afraid. Papa said I was the only one who was terrified. Because you seemed fine. I bathed you and loved you back to sleep. But it was a sight I don’t want to see ever again. So- hence, every 5 minutes I walk in and look at you and thank God for you.
This was you hours before- see how tired you were?
Update- you still didn’t stay asleep. You kept waking up super fussy pants girl. It looked like you had some serious bad gas pain and Papa pointed out that I had eaten a block of manchego cheese with an apple earlier in the day. I thought Sheep’s cheese would be okay. I guess not. I can’t think of anything else we did differently and the last time you were this fussy I was eating dairy- so… this is what is great about co-parenting because I never would of put manchego and fusy pants together. So bye-bye manchego cheese from the Farmer’s Market. It was a sweet romance but it now needs to end.
Finally after many times putting you what we thoughts was asleep, you were sitting against your Papa’s legs as I went to take a bath and he said you were smiling at him one minute, grunting the next, and passed out the third. Right there. You had finally reached that critical mass moment and put yourself down. I’ve only seen you do this one other time. And it was the only time you stayed asleep. Whoa.
Lots of work. Lots of love.
Last night we tried to have a movie night. But to no avail. First of all the X-Men movie that Papa stole on Extorrent was in Russian Subtitles then the weird foreign movie I rented from Netflix had random English subtitles but not consistent enough so we could understand what the hell was going on. Those Frenchies. What the ????
But tonight, we shall try again. Looks like a repeat of Win Win might be in our favor. We loved that movie and something uplifting could be really great. I highly recommend. It’s definitely our sense of humor.
I feel old. I have Mom’s Thumb. It’s a condition that affects older mom’s usually. It’s like tendonitis but only in one thumb really and mostly in the morning, except lately it’s been more frequent. It hurts like hell to pick you up sometimes. It’s really strange. I massage it all day. I hear it doesn’t go away. Makes me feel old.
But it’s worth it. And I never thought I’d ever feel that way. But all of it is worth it. The lack of sleep, the grey hairs, the bleeding cuticles, the confusion, and failures, and all the successes. One smile from you peanut and it’s a whole new world.
Love love love and love some more-