A few months ago a friend of mine with 2 small sons said to me, "Do you ever wish you lived with your mom instead of your husband?" At the time I looked at her a bit quizzically. I mean, I love my mom and all, but there is only so much re-hashing of Dancing With the Stars that I can take and besides, I'm married to a pretty cool guy. But after spending a week at my parent's house while my husband was on a business trip I totally get it.
It was great. My mom came and got Baby M when he was crying inconsolably at 5AM. She cleaned up after he spit peas all over the dining room. She held him so I could try on more than one pair of jeans at the mall. Plus she did all the normal mom stuff like cooking dinner and doing my laundry. Not once did she "dress" the baby and then claim not to notice the unsnapped onesie crotch flaps flopping around on top of Baby M's pants. I don't think I truly appreciated my mom until I became a parent myself. And after a week of having her mother me and Baby M the lumpy scarf I knit for her as a Mother's Day gift seems woefully inadequate.
Now that I'm back home I find being alone with Baby M for 11 hours a day a bit overwhelming. My back is sore since no one is around to help with the heavy lifting (Baby M is nearly 20 lbs and has yet to outgrow his penchant for being held all day). On the plus side, I haven't had to hear about any ballroom dancers, smart 5th graders or wannabee pop stars. And I guess it is nice to have my husband back too, even though he is watching Lost while I scrub sweet potatoes off of the piano.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Friday, April 18, 2008
Not the brightest bulb on the block
That would me, not Baby M, although he did spend the better part of the afternoon playing with a slotted spoon. However, I think that is just because he's a baby, not due to any dimness on his part. I'm the one who seems to have a short circuit these days.
I admit that I have had my share of forgetfulness and inattention brought on my months of sleep deprivation, but up until now I felt that my reasoning skills remained generally in tact. Well, no more. Today I had a serious case of Mommy Brain (and not the good kind that helps with empathy and multi-tasking).
Baby M loves to splash around in the sink, but he is getting too big to hold over the sink comfortably so today I had the inspired idea to let him splash around with a bowl of water on the kitchen floor. I sat him down with a big Tupperware bowl containing a few inches of water. I expected the floor to get a bit wet from his splashing, but I did not foresee what would have been obvious to my former self-- Baby M immediately picked up the bowl and dumped the contents all over himself and the floor. I felt like a complete moron, but on the up side, the floor got mopped this week.
I admit that I have had my share of forgetfulness and inattention brought on my months of sleep deprivation, but up until now I felt that my reasoning skills remained generally in tact. Well, no more. Today I had a serious case of Mommy Brain (and not the good kind that helps with empathy and multi-tasking).
Baby M loves to splash around in the sink, but he is getting too big to hold over the sink comfortably so today I had the inspired idea to let him splash around with a bowl of water on the kitchen floor. I sat him down with a big Tupperware bowl containing a few inches of water. I expected the floor to get a bit wet from his splashing, but I did not foresee what would have been obvious to my former self-- Baby M immediately picked up the bowl and dumped the contents all over himself and the floor. I felt like a complete moron, but on the up side, the floor got mopped this week.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Hunger Strike
Okay, so it's not exactly a hunger strike since Baby M still nurses like a champ, but he is refusing all solid food and has been ever since I first tried to tempt him with some rice cereal three and half weeks ago. I find this turn of events particularly surprising for two reasons. First off for the past few months Baby M has put anything and everything in his mouth. I have uttered "telephones are not for eating", "our friends are not for eating" and "the dog is not for eating" more times than I can count. Secondly both my husband and I eat just about everything. Really. We eat red meat and carbs, seafood and hot dogs, ice cream and cotton candy. You will never have a problem accommodating us at a dinner party. Naturally we thought Baby M would follow in our gastronomical footsteps. But, alas, he seems to be forging his own path.
So far we've tried rice cereal, avocados, bananas and pears. Every feeding session starts out the same, with Baby M screaming as we strap him into his high chair (this reaction is common to any contraption with straps-- car seats, strollers, etc.) After a few choruses of The Hokey Pokey and some fun games with Mommy's ponytail Baby M is in a good enough mood to try some food. Every spoonful is preceded by an elaborate spoon ballet with Battlestar Galactica inspired sound effects and met with a grimace and spitting out of the offending substance. Lately Baby M has taken to stuffing his bib into his mouth in a preemptive strike against eating. I sense he may be a stubborn child.
Our pediatrician says not to worry and to just keep on trying to feed him a couple of times a day. In the meantime I guess I'll just work on my Hokey Pokey.
So far we've tried rice cereal, avocados, bananas and pears. Every feeding session starts out the same, with Baby M screaming as we strap him into his high chair (this reaction is common to any contraption with straps-- car seats, strollers, etc.) After a few choruses of The Hokey Pokey and some fun games with Mommy's ponytail Baby M is in a good enough mood to try some food. Every spoonful is preceded by an elaborate spoon ballet with Battlestar Galactica inspired sound effects and met with a grimace and spitting out of the offending substance. Lately Baby M has taken to stuffing his bib into his mouth in a preemptive strike against eating. I sense he may be a stubborn child.
Our pediatrician says not to worry and to just keep on trying to feed him a couple of times a day. In the meantime I guess I'll just work on my Hokey Pokey.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Parasomnia and Nightmares
I am reading yet another sleep book (Sleeping Through the Night by Jodi Mindell). I know I keep saying that I need to quit reading these parenting books, but I just can't stop myself. This particular book is written by an associate director of a sleep disorders center and now I am convinced that Baby M has parasomnia.
Baby M has not been sleeping for more than 2 or 3 hours at a time during the night so I've gotten into the habit of napping with him in the afternoon. He nearly always wakes up from his nap crying inconsolably, even when I am lying right there next to him. He doesn't seem to notice me when I pat his back, say his name or even pick him up. According to the book, this could be a case of Confusional Arousal, which is a mild form of parasomnia and apparently very common. The author's advice is to just leave him alone.
Initially I wondered if Baby M could be having nightmares. I can still recall my childhood nightmares and remember crying out for my parents in a panic. My parents generally found my nightmares hilarious, although to their credit, they saved their laughter for the following morning and did their best to offer comfort and a sympathetic ear in the middle of the night. However, I will always remember the night my mother couldn't stop giggling when I described the "sponge-nose bandit" nightmare. I dreamed that my brother had a kitchen sponge on his face where his nose should have been. An evil sponge salesman cut off my brother's sponge-nose so that he could sell it which resulted in my brother's death. Looking back I can see how a 4 year old tearfully explaining how her brother's nose was a highly sought after sponge is funny, but at the time my mother's laughter was the exactly the opposite of what I needed. I don't have too many items on my "Things my parents did that I'll never do" list because they were pretty good parents, but laughing at my child's nightmares is one of them.
Baby M has not been sleeping for more than 2 or 3 hours at a time during the night so I've gotten into the habit of napping with him in the afternoon. He nearly always wakes up from his nap crying inconsolably, even when I am lying right there next to him. He doesn't seem to notice me when I pat his back, say his name or even pick him up. According to the book, this could be a case of Confusional Arousal, which is a mild form of parasomnia and apparently very common. The author's advice is to just leave him alone.
Initially I wondered if Baby M could be having nightmares. I can still recall my childhood nightmares and remember crying out for my parents in a panic. My parents generally found my nightmares hilarious, although to their credit, they saved their laughter for the following morning and did their best to offer comfort and a sympathetic ear in the middle of the night. However, I will always remember the night my mother couldn't stop giggling when I described the "sponge-nose bandit" nightmare. I dreamed that my brother had a kitchen sponge on his face where his nose should have been. An evil sponge salesman cut off my brother's sponge-nose so that he could sell it which resulted in my brother's death. Looking back I can see how a 4 year old tearfully explaining how her brother's nose was a highly sought after sponge is funny, but at the time my mother's laughter was the exactly the opposite of what I needed. I don't have too many items on my "Things my parents did that I'll never do" list because they were pretty good parents, but laughing at my child's nightmares is one of them.
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