The baby is finally sleeping regularly through the night AND in her own bed. Which in a word is amazing. I feel like I have a whole new lease on life, now that I have moved from the couch in to my own bed, and I am not being torn from sleep with frantic screaming several times a night. I have woken several times in a panic like “OMG, what’s going on?? Why isn’t she up??” but that too, has passed. I even told Hub that he could put the swing away, which has been our godsend over the last 11 months. (Despite the fact that she is WAAAAAAY to large for it)
What worked was
• Lowering her crib mattress to the lowest level
• Placing her in the crib and allowing her to cry herself to sleep
• Allowing her to sleep on her belly
The first few nights were a hell that I have never experienced since Bud and Lucy always slept well. Now though, after maybe 2 weeks, she will fuss a bit and then go right back down. And if she does stir in the night, she puts herself back to sleep. She has gone from sleeping maybe 6-7 hours a night to sleeping for a solid 11 hours, to the point of me having to wake her up to get ready for the day. And it’s so cute!! She buries her head back in to her mattress and peeks up at me as if to say “Really?? Already??” And then she lies there with her bottle, and when it is empty, she yells “DONE!” and we are ready for our day.
Perspective is a funny thing. If you asked me a few months, or even a few weeks ago if I could ever do this again, the whole baby thing, the answer would have been a solid “HELLZ NAH!!” While watching “Deliver Me” last night, I cried for the first time since Liv was born, upon seeing the birth of another baby.
And for the first time in a very long time, I thought “Who knows; maybe…”
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Friday, June 5, 2009
Friday Free For All- Things that are bugging me...
1. Ok, I’m just going to say it and maybe I’ll catch some heat for it—DMB. I don’t get the obsession with him or his band. Sure, the music is ok though I do find every song to be ridiculously long. But srsly—I don’t get it.
2. Adding to the list of things I have found in the baby’s mouth recently: a cat’s discarded toe nail. I can not stop gagging when I’m thinking about it.
3. Despite having a day off next week, I have to work tomorrow, training some new hires. It’s supposed to be a beautiful day, and we have plans (CRASH-A-RAMA Demolition Derby!!) in the evening, so it’s going to be a long day for me.
4. My skin. I mentioned during my pregnancy how bad it was, and it has not gotten any better. I guess I’m going to have to see a dermatologist because I’ve tried every lotion, potion and supposed miracle to no avail. I look worse than I did as a teenager. It’s really frustrating. Ugh, my hair too. It’s a stringy, disgusting mess.
5. Speaking of frustrating—my job in general. LE Sigh. I’ve decided that I want to work in the city, so I’m watching for opportunity there.
6. Also, because it is webmail, GMAIL has been blocked here citing a security risk, so I can only check my mail via phone. But I can still get in to Facebook and Twitter.
7. My mother in law is moving to Alaska for 3 months….oh, wait….that is NOT bothering me one bit.
2. Adding to the list of things I have found in the baby’s mouth recently: a cat’s discarded toe nail. I can not stop gagging when I’m thinking about it.
3. Despite having a day off next week, I have to work tomorrow, training some new hires. It’s supposed to be a beautiful day, and we have plans (CRASH-A-RAMA Demolition Derby!!) in the evening, so it’s going to be a long day for me.
4. My skin. I mentioned during my pregnancy how bad it was, and it has not gotten any better. I guess I’m going to have to see a dermatologist because I’ve tried every lotion, potion and supposed miracle to no avail. I look worse than I did as a teenager. It’s really frustrating. Ugh, my hair too. It’s a stringy, disgusting mess.
5. Speaking of frustrating—my job in general. LE Sigh. I’ve decided that I want to work in the city, so I’m watching for opportunity there.
6. Also, because it is webmail, GMAIL has been blocked here citing a security risk, so I can only check my mail via phone. But I can still get in to Facebook and Twitter.
7. My mother in law is moving to Alaska for 3 months….oh, wait….that is NOT bothering me one bit.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Sunshine and Roses
If you follow me on Facebook or Twitter, you are likely aware that the baby has begun crawling and pulling her self up, and straight up standing within the last week or so. It has opened up an entire new world to her, for obvious reasons, but has also opened the dialogue between Hub and me as to whether she truly will be our final baby. (short answer—yes)
When you think of babies, you think of the snuggly little newborn who is on a sleep/eat/poop continuum. Teeny babies in footie pajamas, content to sleep on your shoulder or in the crook of your arm, content to be left in one spot for any period of time. You don’t think about the baby who refuses to sleep in her own bed, or finds rocks and rubber bands and pieces of random crap to shove in her mouth regardless of how vigilant you are about vacuuming and keeping your floors clean. You don’t think about baby proofing, or strategically closing off a part of your living room, or making sure the toilet is closed. You don’t remember worrying about whether she will stand up in her crib (should she choose to sleep there) and figure out a way to catapult herself out, because that is just the kind of baby she is.
We are in hell with Liv right now, a kind of hell that we never experienced with Bud and Lucy. She’s in to EVERYTHING and is constantly getting her fingers stuck in things and going after the cats and she wants what she wants when she wants it and you better comply or deal with her wrath. When you tell her no, she laughs and shakes her head no right back at you…and then blows you a kiss and moves on her merry way. She doesn’t know she is a tyrant; she thinks she is funny. And really, she is a perfectly happy baby. She is loud and exuberant a 22lb jolly sweetheart—unless you try and get in her way.
I know this is normal, I do. But I wasn’t prepared!! You don’t think about this stuff when you decide to have a baby! You think –it will be all snuggly fun!! It is not all snuggly fun.
Remind me of this when I get all swoony for one last baby, ok? Remind me that it is hard. And that eventually they’ll turn in to weirdo 5-year-olds, which is a whole new ball game.
When you think of babies, you think of the snuggly little newborn who is on a sleep/eat/poop continuum. Teeny babies in footie pajamas, content to sleep on your shoulder or in the crook of your arm, content to be left in one spot for any period of time. You don’t think about the baby who refuses to sleep in her own bed, or finds rocks and rubber bands and pieces of random crap to shove in her mouth regardless of how vigilant you are about vacuuming and keeping your floors clean. You don’t think about baby proofing, or strategically closing off a part of your living room, or making sure the toilet is closed. You don’t remember worrying about whether she will stand up in her crib (should she choose to sleep there) and figure out a way to catapult herself out, because that is just the kind of baby she is.
We are in hell with Liv right now, a kind of hell that we never experienced with Bud and Lucy. She’s in to EVERYTHING and is constantly getting her fingers stuck in things and going after the cats and she wants what she wants when she wants it and you better comply or deal with her wrath. When you tell her no, she laughs and shakes her head no right back at you…and then blows you a kiss and moves on her merry way. She doesn’t know she is a tyrant; she thinks she is funny. And really, she is a perfectly happy baby. She is loud and exuberant a 22lb jolly sweetheart—unless you try and get in her way.
I know this is normal, I do. But I wasn’t prepared!! You don’t think about this stuff when you decide to have a baby! You think –it will be all snuggly fun!! It is not all snuggly fun.
Remind me of this when I get all swoony for one last baby, ok? Remind me that it is hard. And that eventually they’ll turn in to weirdo 5-year-olds, which is a whole new ball game.
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