Friday, September 19, 2008

in which I lose my cool

I haven't been blogging much lately, friends, because I have been struggling.

There has been a slight improvement in the night-time sleep schedule -- enough to remind me what a delicious and potent tonic sleep can be -- but it seems to be coming at the cost of those day-time gems of sweet relief called naps.

The past few days have seen me face down, crying into the living room rug by 6pm. No matter how plucky I start out in the morning, my resilience is eroded by the constant whining, the wriggling, the struggling to get away from diaper-changes, the sporratic 1/2 hour naps, the inability to be entertained by any one toy for longer than 30 seconds, the reaching for all things forbidden, the insistence on playing Attack Baby** until 9:30pm, and in fact, the total resistance to any kind of regular bedtime, and can I get a witness? Or maybe just a babysitter? By the time my poor unsuspecting husband comes home I'm ready to toss him the baby and exit the room, tipping my hat, saying, "aaaaaand eff you very much!"

I've become a fierce and desperate defendant of sleep, when it comes -- after endless walking, bouncing, nursing, humming, praying -- and I find myself composing detailed deals with God wherein he grants me an hour and I promise to get other things done besides blogging. But then as soon as the eyelids close, a neighbor comes out to ask HOW OLD'S THE BABY? or I walk on the creaky part of the floor, or dishes clank in the sink, and I'm cursing (sorry God) and waxing nostalgic about the early months when Auden could sleep anywhere, anytime, through any kind of noise.

I'm so tense I'm wearing my shoulders up around my ears, even though I never meant to be so rigid about this. I want to go with the flow and all, but damnit, when he needs a nap he NEEDS a nap, you know?

[smooths hair, settles back down in chair]

Ahem.

Like a good Buddhist, Jason reminds me that the root of suffering is attachment, and that I have to just let go. That's when I sic Attack Baby on him and go fix myself a drink.

Ah crap. The baby's up. Well, at least I got this post finished! Never mind about making dinner or folding the laundry or taking a shower or starting that Valium habit. You'll come visit me in the nuthouse, right?

Oh don't worry. The next thing I write is going to be an ode to Auden about all the reasons I'm completely in love with him.


** this game is actually hilariously cute, remind me to tell you about it when I'm not so intent on being Righteously Frustrated.

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Monday, September 8, 2008

mobile

Oh boy. We have mobility, folks:

video

We're in trouble. But how cute is a baby in a hoodie?

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Sunday, September 7, 2008

hello, Milwaukee

A few weeks ago Jason and I watched the entire Planet Earth series straight through. Amidst all the marvels and the superlatives (damn you, David Attenborough, which is the deepest lake? the tallest tree? has the most biodiversity? the least? ack!), one random thought is sticking with me: why don't humans have an easy way to lie down?

I mean, nevermind the breathtaking footage of a mother snow leopard and her cub, gently shrouded in falling snow, nuzzling at the entrance of their den -- look at how comfortable they look just lying on the rocks!

What kind of design flaw is this? These are the things I think of when I'm breastfeeding Auden, lying on my side (propped by pillows, of course), in the middle of the night.

Ahhh, but it's wonderful to be in my own bed again.

We had a whirlwind visit to Michigan, where Auden was properly spoiled and cuddled by all his grandparents. Then we camped out at our new place in Milwaukee for a couple of nights (sleeping on an inflatable mattress, also not found in the wild), waiting for our stuff to arrive in a giant truck from California. Now we're waist-deep in boxes, going about the exhausting but rewarding task of settling in.

Auden seems to be handling all this chaos fairly well, despite a handful of wonky nights adjusting to the time change. He's even making determined attemps at crawling, getting up on his haunches and doing face-plants in order to move toward a desired object -- usually a plastic bag or his potty. Not that we let him play with those things.

At some point in Michigan he became swaddle-resistant, though, I guess because crawling is too exciting and one must also practice while sleeping. So now he can wiggle right out of the straight-jacket technique I'd perfected -- a regular Houdini, this one -- and rock n' roll to his heart's delight. With all the thrashing, papa ended up on the floor, and mama built a barrier around baby to prevent excessive kicks to ribs.

I'm sure you (and David Attenborough) have noticed that no other mammals swaddle their young. This is why the good Lord invented cribs, which are totally natural. I'll be eating my words in the next post.

But look! Here we are in our new city:





Yes, that's the Bronze Fonz. Milwaukee!

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