My Baby Blue
Adam and I were remembering earlier in the evening how bad The Screaming was, thanks to the photo below. I mean, part of me has no business complaining about how shitty Sam’s sleep is, when we have The Screaming in our history. You guys, our evenings were RIDICULOUS. She’d finish a feeding at 6:30 p.m. and we’d put her face down on my chest, too afraid to put her on her back, lest The Screaming be worse than it had to be. If I had to pee, I handed her off to Adam for the briefest of moments, and then resumed the position, pausing only for feedings and brief, uh, playtime. Or whatever.
Lather, rinse, repeat. She would start screaming sometime between 11 p.m. and 3 a.m., and would go for HOURS, calmed only by Adam rocking her in the bathroom, the sink on full throttle, while I would rush to get my pajamas on — usually at least three layers, as I couldn’t use even a sheet and our room was FAH-REEZING, because I was on SIDS patrol and refused to put the thermostat above 62, as I figured she was getting so much BODY HEAT* — and lie down in bed, a cascade of pillows propping me to the perfect angle. Eventually, she would come in, swaddled, and I would have to UN-swaddle her — VERY GENTLY — and place her on my chest. Peeing, for the evening, had to be complete unless I wanted to do it at 3 a.m., with her attached to my boob.
There was a two-week period where I had to be pinned under her for NAPS. GAH.
My God. We are in a totally different place now. If that’s not perspective, I don’t know what is.
*Ahem. I may have been a bit crazy here with the fear of overheating and now realize I’m lucky I didn’t freeze my daughter to death instead. I now allow the thermostat to climb to a respectable 68 or even — gasp! — 69!
P.S., this is what I wore somewhat regularly. Honestly. That’s three T-shirts, two pairs of pants and a heavy-duty pair of socks. No kidding.
I’ve got to go to bed, but a few miscellaneous observations, some television-related:
– What the hell was up with the Real Housewives being the SHORTEST SEASON EVER? No, seriously. WTF?
– Lack of sleep caused my husband to use the word “bubbies” in total un-ironic fashion in conversation today. We met for lunch mid-day, and he recounted the conversation word for word and frankly, I died laughing on the spot. “I said BUBBIES,” he helplessly recalled. “I actually said BUBBIES.” HA HA HA. He had to later explain to the recipient that I’d subjected him to too much RHoNJ and really wow, that was wildly inappropriate. BUT HILARIOUS.
– True Blood is meh for me this season. I think it’s because I can’t savor it, and instead have to desperately sandwich it in chunks between naptimes, after that one time realizing that Sam has eyes that work beyond a few inches now and maybe — just maybe — she could be, you know, scarred for life watching (hot, weirdly sexy) Eric Northman devour some dude in the basement of Fangtasia in the most graphic of fashions. I think this is going to be something I struggle with in parenthood, figuring out what’s appropriate and what isn’t. I forget that kids have, you know, nightmares and shit. Gawd.
– Not television related, but just once, I would like to know what it’s like to nurse my child without a heavy breathing pug trying to horn in on the action. JUST ONCE.
– NYC Prep: Don’t think I can handle it, and y’all KNOW what kind of a whore I am for Bravo. But honestly, a bunch of snotty rich kids acting above the law in every way smacks of a mix of Gossip Girl, Less Than Zero and American Psycho. I’m not sure why.
– After our washer died, our freezer also decided to go haywire. This resulted in me depositing approximately 9,876 ounces of frozen breastmilk in my friend’s freezer. I mean, dude, that is a good friend. Am I right?
And finally, did someone ask for pictures of my kid? I’m sure they did, even though I’ve been whoring them out to everyone in the world, and you’ve probably seen them all. No mind! You shall suffer again! A few of my recent favorites:
She’ll have the nachos, please. With extra guacamole.
I swear she smiles right up to the point where I click the button. I swear.
She LOVES the baby in the mirror, and hasn’t quite figured out how it all works. She can recognize my face in the mirror and her mind is quite clearly blown when she looks and sees me — TWICE! — in real life AND in the glass. Like, WTF OMG.
OH! Before I forget: We’re coming up on the need for a high chair in the next few months and it is the ONE PIECE of equipment I haven’t researched at all, nor do I really even want to. So someone, please, point me in the direction of your high chair if you like it.
Happy Tuesday!
*Shut up, Dave Matthews off of their new album. SHUT UP. I couldn’t HELP myself. I bought it in a fit of nostalgia, and since Sam and I listen to music ALL DAY LONG, it was time. But of course, I haven’t really listened to it yet to tell you how it is. So there’s that.
43 comments June 22nd, 2009