Life as a New Mom

A first-time mom adjusting to her new everything


1 Comment

And so it begins.

Game on, Widget.  I see you there, trying to look cute so I’ll forgive you for the fussing you’ve done all day for the last week.  Oh yes, and the grabbing your spoon to gnaw on in the most diabolical plan ever conceived for avoiding eating.  You should want to eat the delicious puree I have made for you, from scratch. SCRATCH.

I see you looking at me with the saddest face ever, putting your tongue out of your mouth as far as it will go, foiling my attempt to look at your gums.  But the joke’s on you.  I moved faster than you, and I saw that canker sore-looking blister.  I know that means you are getting your first tooth.  Clearly this means I am doing a superior job keeping you from dying, as you are alive to erupt a tooth.

But I make no promises if you continue this behavior, combined with the amount of cling static will envy.  In particular, I make no promises for your father, who just last night tried to clip your pacifier to your clothes (I keep telling him it’s unnecessary in the house but he doesn’t listen) and instead clipped it to your skin.  I completely agree with you wailing and crying for 15 minutes because of that.  I’ve pinched myself with it and that thing hurts.  Just remember your father did that, and that it’s rude to take out fury on innocent bystanders who also produce your main source of food.  Don’t bite the boob that feeds you.

In summation, you have many reasons to be cranky.  But so do I.  Bring it, for I shall win this battle royale.  I have the patience which you have yet to dream of, and I WILL wait you out.

Advertisements


Leave a comment

Summer comes

And with summer, many changes.  More vomit, for one.  Widget has starting rolling to his stomach with a vengeance, often right after eating.  He hasn’t yet figured out that this upsets his tummy and so we are back to spitting up 5 times a day.  At least he’s developing, right?  I seriously think he’s going to figure out how to barrel roll soon and then who knows where I’ll find him after leaving him for 45 seconds to use the bathroom.

The other big change (for me, not Widget) is in his attire.  You might recall that I don’t really put him in clothes.  Now that it’s reliably warm here in the Carolinas, that is not the case!  He wears rompers now, instead of footies.  Since a lot of them come with real collars and everything, this means it’s clothes.  HA.

Health-wise, we had an appointment with a urologist because of some stuff with his kidney.  All is well.  But at his 4 month check up, I guess the doctor was taken aback by some of his characteristics.  He’s already 27.5 inches long, but only weighs 14 pounds.  That’s about the 97th percentile for height, and 13th percentile for weight.  He’s always been long and skinny, but the huge disparity is concerning to the pediatrician.  The other thing is that apparently my child sleeps too much to be normal.

Seriously.  I’ll put him to bed at 8pm and he’ll sleep straight until 6:30am.  He does not cry during the night to be fed.  This is “very atypical” according to his doctor.  So on the doctor’s advice, we tried waking him to feed him; previously, we dropped the night feeds because he wouldn’t want to eat, and then after he had half an ounce he’d fuss for an hour trying to fall back asleep.  Not fun for anyone.

When we tried waking him at 11pm this week, same cycle.  Fussing for an hour after eating 4 ounces, and then up every hour to fuss more, but not from hunger.  That is not my gig.  I’ve decided that I’m going to just feed him every 2 and a half hours instead, and let him sleep at night the way he wants.  I can’t do these nights.

Anyone else had the skinny baby problem?  How did you solve it?


Leave a comment

There is nothing worse…

My mother-in-law is coming to visit today, for the weekend.  Because she is allergic to dogs, this means I brush the dog really well and clean the house.  No problem.

I will also bathe Widget and make him appealing so she’ll forgive the crying and crankiness that is his colic (being slowly outgrown!!).  That right there?  HUGE PROBLEM.

It’s a problem because I know, I have known for days, that I must once again battle the Claws of Pain.  I hate the Claws of Pain the way Flick hates frozen telephone poles after his tongue stunt.  I hate the Claws of Pain the way we all hate that driver 3 cars in front of us who isn’t signaling before switching lanes while going 45 mph on the freeway.

In case you’re not familiar with the Claws of Pain, let me explain.

I cannot file Widget’s nails.  They’re too thin for me to manipulate, and trying to do so has resulted in blood and I will not tolerate that.  So I clip them.  I clip one halfway across and tear it the rest of the way.  I do this because I like them shorter than biting will accomplish and I’m incapable of just tearing the entire thing.  Like many babies, I’d imagine, Widget does not care for nail maintenance.  As a result, it takes about 30 minutes to cut 10 nails.  It’s a humongous PITA.  I hate it.  But if I don’t do it, his nails (that are clipped/torn straight across) grow longer.  Eventually the corners of the nail get long enough to feel.  Widget is grippy right now (not grabby because I still can’t get him to even bother to hold a damn toy, just my hair and his bib in front of his face at feedings), so that means the nails dig into my delicate neck-skin.  Hard.  Then he drags them along my neck.  They are the Claws of Pain.

The Claws of Pain are evil incarnate, and in our epic struggle, I’d say it’s a tie.