AC Capehart/Some days

Created Sat, 10 Dec 2005 22:26:14 +0000 Modified Mon, 22 Mar 2021 01:42:32 +0000
829 Words

Some days, I’m just not sure I can do it any more. Take this afternoon, for example. When I got up, mom was kinda short with me. When I asked what was going on, she said that she just needed some time to herself, she was weary and frustrated. I gather it was a rough morning. So, I sent her to Wal*Mart on one of the busiest shopping days of the year to buy diapers and other essentials. Can you not think of a better place to unwind, relax and find yourself? But it was either that or stay home with baby while I went to Wal*Mart on one of the busiest shopping days of the year to buy diapers and other essentials.

Baby fell asleep in the baby björn while I danced around and sang to her, and stayed asleep while I got her out of the baby björn, and swaddled her up — no mean feat. I put her in the crib, and got my lunch out of the oven. I was not 5 minutes into it when the cries started up over the baby monitor. I went in, picked her up, changed her and calmed her. I got her back to sleep in the crib, and went back to my now luke-warm lunch. Not 5 minutes later, cries started up over the baby monitor. I went in, picked her up, calmed her, put her back in the crib. She was still wide-eyed, so I let her suck on my finger for a bit until her eyelids got heavy again, and went back to my now cold lunch. I had almost finished it when cries started up over the baby monitor. Sorry, kiddo. I finished my lunch first — probably 90 loooong seconds of scarfing. I went in, picked her up, and figured she must be hungry. I based this on the continual waking, the time since her last feeding, and a few lipping/tongue-moving motions. So, I got out the precious pumped breast milk, and started warming it up, and mixed up some more formula.

I got the bottle ready, the bib on, the burpcloth handy, but baby would have nothing to do with it. On her back, she cried. On her side (either one) or leaning forward for burping, she was calm enough, but in a feeding position her head waved madly (and turned red) as she let out ear-splitting wails. Knowing that I’d already committed the precious pumped breast milk (and formula) added a little to my extant stress. I was determined to at least start a feeding before mom got home. I’d decided I’d lie to her and to SamTrak (Do what I say, not what I do!) and claim that it was still a mixture of breast milk and formula even if I had to throw out the “real” batch of mixture and remix a formula-only one later.

Not knowing what else to do, I put the baby in the bouncy seat which she seemed to like even though she didn’t do the kicking part of the kick-and-play. Half an hour later, we tried the feeding again. This time, it worked, and the timing was such we could still use the original batch. About 2.5 ounces through the 4 ounces prepared, she starts to cough. I remove the bottle, she recovers and we have burpy time. Again, whenever she goes onto her back (even significantly propped up), she wails, but side-lying is fine. So, I give up. 2.5 ounces is better than 0 ounces even if it’s not quite 4 ounces, and let her rest side-lying in my arms. After 10 minutes or so of that, I flip her onto her back, and she’s calm enough to finish the mixture. A couple of burps later, and she’s now finally in the crib asleep.

The Baby Whisperer has what she calls the “EASY” method: Eat, Activity, Sleep, You — Where “You” is the rest and recharge time for you — the parent. As you can see, we have a different plan in this house. It’s fail to sleep, fail to sleep again, fail to eat, activity, eat, fail to eat, eat, sleep, dishes. (OK, really blogging then dishes.) I wonder who does the dishes in the Baby Whisperer’s house?

Bah Humbug. Taking a brief moment to reflect, at least she did eat. At least she is sleeping. At least I’m not “rejuvenating” at Wal*Mart with a couple hundred of my closest shoppers. And soon, the dishes will be done.