Today I went on an architectural tour of Pasadena with Former Nemesis and her wedding planner and friend who, like FN, has a two month old baby. It's odd (and oddly gratifying) to be the "elder statesman" when it comes to mothers - I'm so used to asking advice of my friends with older kids and multiple children; it's rare to be the one being asked advice of. The tour was a bit of a bust in that the very first house we went to had a 45 minute wait in the sweltering heat; everyone was moaning and complaining. The two little babies slept and B was a little restless in his carrier but not too bad (I did a back carry all by myself for the first time! But honestly it hurt my shoulders so bad I ended up putting him on my front anyway). However I was pretty much over it after that - there were maybe ten houses to see and we only got to three of them. And honestly - they weren't that great. My house could be on one of those tours, if I do say so myself.
But we got to talking mom stuff - diapers, poop, breast feeding, cosleeping - you know, all of those topics that used to make me roll my eyes in disgust and boredom. The friend of FN said she was so amazed that I manage on my own (I never tire of hearing that, honestly), and then went on to say how much she and her husband butt heads over parenting decisions and how unsupportive he is (I never tire of hearing that, either). I did feel bad for her, though. With all the changes around here lately with trying to wean, bedtimes, and food issues, I can't imagine having to make those calls with another person - especially if we disagreed! It must be horrible.
It is funny to be around little itty bitty babies, though, with their little wrinkled feet and crossed eyes and floppy heads (it was after all Bobby's floppy head that earned him the name Bumpus). When I was assembling last night's pictures I was amazed by how different he was at one and two months - but then by three months he just was who he is now. I think once they can see it makes a huge difference; they really come to life at that point. It's funny to see the little babies' orangey little poops that run everywhere. Thankfully B now does one or two nice solid ones a day that roll conveniently into the toilet. We enjoy flushing them down and saying bye-bye.
I often think about "starting all over again", but it doesn't fill me with dread like it used to. As mentioned, I feel like I'd be so damned good at it a second time - I feel like I'd have so much less anxiety (not that I felt that anxious, but something kept me sleeping with the lights and TV on that whole first month). Although I will say that now that B and I have a real schedule going - naptime, lunch, breakfast, dinner, outings, playtime in the playroom, bed asleep by 7 - the idea of returning to the chaos that is caring for a newborn (the cluster feeds, the growth spurts, the random all night screaming) does not appeal to me. But something tells me I'd just have to be more regimented if there were a preschooler in the house that also needed his needs met. Things would just have to be run more efficiently around here than they were all last year. And I'm up to the challenge. I accept the vomit, right?
The last two days I've put B in the living room in his playpen and switched on the TV at 6 am so I could go back to bed. And it worked, sort of. He didn't start fussing until about 8 which is more reasonable. The first day I put on Pingu, the little penguin cartoon, but today I was too lazy and he ended up watching the 1970's costume sex romp Tom Jones. Whoops! Well in my defense it's hardly like he watches it anyway, it just keeps him company. I don't know if these two days of being able to go back to bed were just a fluke or if this can be a system for handling these god-awful early mornings; let's hope he stays content out there!
When FN and I decided to quit the tour we headed to a park so B could stretch his legs and her baby could be taken out of his carrier and eat. All of a sudden I look over and see Bumpus standing. Just standing up in the middle of the grass, not a care in the world. "Bumpus! Are you standing?" I asked him, incredulous. He promptly keeled over and bonked his head. But in that moment I was one proud momma.
But we got to talking mom stuff - diapers, poop, breast feeding, cosleeping - you know, all of those topics that used to make me roll my eyes in disgust and boredom. The friend of FN said she was so amazed that I manage on my own (I never tire of hearing that, honestly), and then went on to say how much she and her husband butt heads over parenting decisions and how unsupportive he is (I never tire of hearing that, either). I did feel bad for her, though. With all the changes around here lately with trying to wean, bedtimes, and food issues, I can't imagine having to make those calls with another person - especially if we disagreed! It must be horrible.
It is funny to be around little itty bitty babies, though, with their little wrinkled feet and crossed eyes and floppy heads (it was after all Bobby's floppy head that earned him the name Bumpus). When I was assembling last night's pictures I was amazed by how different he was at one and two months - but then by three months he just was who he is now. I think once they can see it makes a huge difference; they really come to life at that point. It's funny to see the little babies' orangey little poops that run everywhere. Thankfully B now does one or two nice solid ones a day that roll conveniently into the toilet. We enjoy flushing them down and saying bye-bye.
I often think about "starting all over again", but it doesn't fill me with dread like it used to. As mentioned, I feel like I'd be so damned good at it a second time - I feel like I'd have so much less anxiety (not that I felt that anxious, but something kept me sleeping with the lights and TV on that whole first month). Although I will say that now that B and I have a real schedule going - naptime, lunch, breakfast, dinner, outings, playtime in the playroom, bed asleep by 7 - the idea of returning to the chaos that is caring for a newborn (the cluster feeds, the growth spurts, the random all night screaming) does not appeal to me. But something tells me I'd just have to be more regimented if there were a preschooler in the house that also needed his needs met. Things would just have to be run more efficiently around here than they were all last year. And I'm up to the challenge. I accept the vomit, right?
The last two days I've put B in the living room in his playpen and switched on the TV at 6 am so I could go back to bed. And it worked, sort of. He didn't start fussing until about 8 which is more reasonable. The first day I put on Pingu, the little penguin cartoon, but today I was too lazy and he ended up watching the 1970's costume sex romp Tom Jones. Whoops! Well in my defense it's hardly like he watches it anyway, it just keeps him company. I don't know if these two days of being able to go back to bed were just a fluke or if this can be a system for handling these god-awful early mornings; let's hope he stays content out there!
When FN and I decided to quit the tour we headed to a park so B could stretch his legs and her baby could be taken out of his carrier and eat. All of a sudden I look over and see Bumpus standing. Just standing up in the middle of the grass, not a care in the world. "Bumpus! Are you standing?" I asked him, incredulous. He promptly keeled over and bonked his head. But in that moment I was one proud momma.
Standing?!?!? Congrats! I love the phrase about accepting the vomit. It's the name of your first blog post if I'm not mistaken, right? It represents everything all at once; and it's just..so you. :)
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