We have officially entered the six-week mark since Dylan’s birth, and I feel as though some critical milestone has been reached. Things feel much better in a multitude of small ways, and I’m not sure if there have been actual changes and improvements or if I’m just adapting — or maybe there’s been a happy combination of all three.

The baby is definitely not barfing as much, which brings me great joy. It’s much easier to feel good about a caring for a creature who isn’t constantly and unpredictably about to firehose a gallon of curdled sour milk onto your lap, you know? We’ve cycled through a few different formulas and are back at square one with the regular non-specialty stuff, so I don’t know if that was ever the problem. Maybe it just took a while for his tiny system to get programmed into Digest Mode instead of EJECT, PREFERABLY INTO SOMEONE’S BRA.

I think I’m getting better at knowing what he needs, too. Babies are like little puzzles, you have to constantly figure out if they’re hungry or tired or bored or what, and even if you do decipher what the hell is up their ass, providing the appropriate response can be complicated. Like maybe he’s tired, but he won’t just obediently fall asleep, he needs to be wrapped like a burrito so his flailing limbs won’t rake out an eyeball and stuffed in the swing with the stupid 7-minute-only audio set to white noise, NOT music. Or maybe he’s bored, but plopping him down on a blanket and moseying off to file your nails isn’t going to do the trick, he needs someone’s face to be hovering inches from his own while hearing “WHO’S a tinytopus? Is it YOU? Is it YOUUUU?”

He has become WAY more fun in the last week, much more interactive. I mean, we’re still talking about a 6-week-old baby here, he’s not exactly a lively conversationalist, but he’s losing that blurry newborn I-Have-The-Mental-Capacity-of-a-Housefly vibe and starting to become more aware of his surroundings. He’s well on the way to smiling, not quite busting out the full social smile yet but doing that full-body baby thing where their wiggling and pooched cheeks tell you they’re happy.

I like to nuzzle his face with my own and pretend that his excited openmouthed lunging means he’s trying to give me a kiss, rather than attempting to latch onto my nose and furiously suck it inside out.

My overall mood has improved to the point where I have stopped thinking this was the worst move I ever made in my entire life, and maybe that’s not something that needs to get printed out and saved in the baby book but it is sort of momentous nonetheless. I have no doubt we will have many hard moments and days ahead, but by god I am glad to be past these first weeks. I feel like I’ve been in boot camp, without the rock-hard abs to show for it.

Speaking of boot camp, how many pushups can you do? Real ones, with arms bent to 90 degrees and not using your knees, I mean. I can do about ONE, which I discovered last night on a “I wonder how many pushups I can do?” whim. That seems sort of pathetic, like what if the zombie apocalypse descends and I need to be able to, I don’t know, perform a life-saving pushup? My goal is to be able to do ten by next week. Stay tuned for details of my inevitable failure and humorous groin injury.

FAMILIAL SUCROSE:

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Comments

55 Responses to “Six weeks”

  1. Amy on March 19th, 2008 8:59 am

    Oh, I’m so glad to hear things are looking up. For you *and* for me and my “we’ve made the worst mistake of our lives” fears. Hooray!

    I can do 10 push-ups now, down from the 15 I could do when I got pregnant 4-odd months ago. Guess I should be spending less time with my face in a plateful of microwave burritos with full-fat sour cream and more time swearing at Steve Ross?

  2. Sabine on March 19th, 2008 9:46 am

    Funny, I’ve been working on the pushup thing too. When I started strength training a month ago I could hardly do more than a handful of girly pushups with my knees down, and *barely* one real pushup. Yesterday I did about 4 real pushups before collapsing into a squishy, arm-trembly mess… Getting there!

  3. audrey on March 19th, 2008 10:01 am

    HE HAS DIMPLES! While I am sure you are well aware of this fact, I think my uterus just pushed my IUD out so that another wee one can take up residence. (TMI? Sorry…)

  4. Tara on March 19th, 2008 10:22 am

    It’s been a while since I’ve tried the push-ups on the toes, but I think I did 10 before I fell. On my knees, my current record is 30, but that’s after 3 rounds of other strength training (including more push-ups!). I’ve been doing the Power 90 program for a little over 60 days now. I don’t think I’ll ever match my coach (she can do at least 100 real, on-the-toes push-ups–but then, she also uses 30-lb. dumbbells, and did I mention she used to be in the Army??), but I’m proud of my accomplishments. When I started this program, I could barely do 8 push-ups on my knees.

    Glad to hear things are getting easier at the 6-week mark. I recall thinking things got a lot easier when my son turned 2 months old. Of course, now that he’s getting ready to turn 3, everything’s going in the shitter. We’ve got temper tantrums that will make your brain explode. And notes coming home from daycare where, instead of saying he was “good,” they say he was “out of sorts,” i.e. a raving lunatic. FUN–I thought they were the professionals, but apparently even they hate this stage. I am girding my loins for a difficult year. . . (really, I just wanted to say “girding my loins”. . . but I bet you figured that out all by yourself)

  5. Josh on March 19th, 2008 1:44 pm

    Aw, you made me sad. I can only do forty. But they’re the man kind, where you touch your chest to the ground and then fully extend up. None of that girly shit for me. But still, I used to be able to do way more. Especially when i got out of jail back in the day. I was a ripped little youngin. Now I’ve got a gut and developing moobs. Time to crack down and get back in shape. Next goal fifty, after that, one hundred. (resolve already fading)

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