You--Day Five

Last night started so well!  I had such high hopes for a good night's sleep.
We kept you up.
I fed you well.
And you slept fine for the hour that we watched t.v in bed.
But as soon as I clicked my light off, anticipating a good three hours of snooze time, you woke up.
And you were pissed.

I fed you, you pooped, we changed you, I fed you.
You drifted off and I set you down beside me.
Within 20 minutes, you were up and wailing and slapping me about.
I fed you, you pooped, I changed you, I fed you.
You drifted off and I set you down beside me.
Within 20 minutes, you were up and wailing and slapping me about.
I fed you, you pooped, I changed you, I fed you.

I watched the clock turn from 2:20 to 5:00am.
By the last "I fed you, you pooped, I changed you, I fed you" routine, I woke your Daddy.

"I've had enough, " I said.  "I can do no more."

I handed you off, happy that SOMEHOW he had slept through your three hour long bitch-fest and I locked myself in the bathroom and turned on my hair dryer.
The hair dryer, by the way, has secret Mommy Healing Powers, and is used in extreme cases of duress.
When I need quiet, I'll sit on my bathroom floor with the door locked and flip it on.
I can't hear a thing.
Your brothers know to turn and run when the hair dryer is running and Mommy is not answering.
The Littles are learning--unless they've suddenly chopped their arms off and are going to die in the next ten minutes, I am not to be bothered.
Chas or Daddy can fill in until I have received all Hair Dryer Healing Power and can open the door and be friendly.
And sane.

So last night, if you were crying, it was out of my ear-reach and being handled by another fully capable (albeit boobless) human being.

I emerged at 5:30 to silence.
A quick peek in the bed proved that Daddy is indeed fully capable (yet still boobless) of soothing your tears.
You were nestled against him, sort of sitting up, with your little cap all jacked to the side like a wee bitty gangsta, and you were, thank the Lord, sleeping.

I think this was my fault, by the way, though I'd really like to just blame you for being a She-Devil.
Yesterday evening, I was feeling...normal...so I was up and around downstairs.
I took you outside around 8:00 and sat on the swing with you.
Daddy brought me a coffee.
And I think that was our problem.

But strangely, a morning coffee does not seem to bother you so I don't understand why the night-time one would produce such...fury.
It doesn't matter, I won't be making THAT mistake again.

I'll have decaf :)

Somehow between 5:30 and 11:00 this morning, I cluster-napped enough to finally get moving.
An 11:00 wake-up is not really feasable come Monday so we're going to have to do better on our nights together.
(And didn't I just say you were a wonderous sleeper?  Perhaps there's room for interpretation in the word "wonderous" and it ain't all good, sister...)

Already you're bucking the swaddle.
You want your hands free so you can slap me with them :)

You've had and lost a sweet little sucking blister.

Oh, and that reminds me.
You're a SLOPPY eater!
You get my milk going and then you're like, "Oh wait, not sure if I really am hungry after all..." meanwhile I'm soaking me and you and end up needing outfit changes in the middle of the night.
Grrrr.

And yet, I still find you adorable and had not started searching for your "gift receipt" ticket.
The one where I take you to the stork and I say, "This one doesn't fit well.  I'd like it in a new personality, please."

You're sort of "moving in" this weekend, in fact!
All of the baby things we didn't want to haul out beforehand are about to be hauled out.
Two baby swings, one for the family room and one for the schooling room.
Two bouncy seats, one for downstairs and one for upstairs.
I'm in need of a monitor because I'm convinced that you will shatter into a million pieces if you call for me and I don't hear you.

You're also joining the world this weekend.
I'm considering my first outing since Monday--a trip to the baby store to check on a few things.
Thinking of a co-sleeper for you, one that attaches to our bed and keeps you right by me but will also morph into a pack-n-play for later on.
And a new little bathtub--I've seen these ones that are like a bucket and seem very cozy; I think you'd fit quite nicely in there for...well, for ages, considering you're the size of a bag of potato chips.

Must run, you call.

Love,
Mama