Archives from 2002-2006

Feb

21

Flailing but still above water

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From about 9 AM until 2 PM, I am often feeling utterly overwhelmed and strung out and filled with shameful second thoughts and portents of doom over this whole new-baby thing. Those are the hours during which Dylan does not seem to nap at all, but instead spends his time fussing angrily, eating nonstop, and fussing some more. I am embarrassed to admit I have already asked my 2-week-old just what in the blue FUCK his problem is, and as long as I’m being brutally honest I’ll tell you I didn’t exactly ask this in a soft and gentle whisper.

I feel very very whiny about the current state of things, frankly. I feel like doing some of my own fussing, just lying in the corner of the room emoting over the fact that a 8-lb nuclear bomb has been dropped into the middle of my existence. I don’t know how to say this or explain it without sounding horrible, but maybe some of you can understand: I have learned that it’s possible to simultaneously love someone with all of your heart and know without a doubt that he was meant to be a part of your life, and also sometimes regret the decision to invite him to the party, so to speak.

I knew things were going to be hard, but perhaps not surprisingly it doesn’t actually make things LESS hard to have the heads up in advance. I am struggling, struggling with finding patience and dealing with the soul-crushing boredom and the endlessly unrewarding effort it takes to care for a newborn. Maybe I’ve gotten so used to Riley, a walking, talking, interactive creature, that returning to the primal state of eat-poop-fuss-sleep is harder for me to handle this time around. Maybe I’ve come to relish my tiny amounts of free time so very much that having them unceremoniously ripped away is a bigger challenge than I could have predicted. Maybe Dylan’s more of a pain in the ass than his brother was.

I don’t know. I do know things will get better, and I know I love both my boys and I am so lucky to have them. But still. STILL. This is still rough going, no matter how you cut it.

In less whimpery news:

1) That all-morning fuss routine Dylan’s in could certainly be a lot worse. For instance, it could be from 9 PM to 2 AM. And so far he’s been very good about sleeping at night: I feed him at around 11, 2:30, 5:30, and 7:30 before getting up for the day. It’s not exactly suck-free, that schedule, but it does let us get enough sleep to function.

2) That whole turbo barfing situation? Uh, so it turns out we were basically milk-bonging the kid. Smaller nipple hole = less frantic gulping = no more projectile spitups. God, you’d think I was NEW at this shit, or something.

Mama’s little PITA. Who I love very very much, even if I do complain about him.

Feb

20

Tidbits

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Hey, I got that 40K calorie dessert after all!

That right there is basically a giant slab of tiramisu. It came with a selection of new books, a generous spa gift certificate, a toddler blowing out my candle for me and sweetly announcing HAPPY BIRFDAY MOMMY, and a baby who slept peacefully during the festivities. Who could ask for more? 34 is off to a good start.

More recent photos:

I’ve been trying to get a decent family photo of the four of us, but man is it ever hard. Someone’s always squashed-looking, or not looking at the camera, or NOT WEARING A SHIRT, etc.