Mar
26
Lately I am feeling about a thousand miles away from this emotional territory—so far away, in fact, that re-reading those words is almost like reading someone else’s journal. Who was that constantly fussy, pain-in-the-ass baby I was writing about, I wonder. Surely not the low-maintenance grinning butterball *I* know.
Who knows what tomorrow will bring, but things are going very well at the moment. Dylan is, in many ways, an entirely different creature than he was a few weeks ago. The smiling helps, for sure, but he’s also eating much more comfortably (I’m currently using a soy formula, the turbo-barfing stopped on its own but I think the soy helps with the gassiness. I mean, if anyone’s taking notes on this thrilling subject, or anything), he’s settling into a schedule of sorts, and while he is not sleeping through the night—WOE—he is at least allowing me enough sleep to make it through the day. I’m almost getting used to that 3:30 AM wakeup call at this point. Well, in the same way you’d get used to someone whaling you in the kneecap with a ballpeen hammer, which is to say I don’t particularly enjoy it, but, you know, it’s survivable.
God, those early weeks sucked. You guys, THAT SUCKED. I’m sure there’s plenty more suckage ahead, but thank god I’m standing over here and not back over there. In the dark. With the ice weasels.
(Those of you who gently reminded me that things would get better, thank you. You were right.)
Lastly: can someone please reassure me that the world does not need pithy one-sentence status updates on the minutiae of my life, and thus it is okay to not have a Twitter account? What is wrong with me that I am all itchy over the notion that I’m missing the boat, even though it’s a boat I have no desire to be on?
Mar
25
Excuse me but I would like to make an announcement. Ahem.
THE BABY IS SMILING. REPEAT, WE HAVE ACTUAL NO-SHIT ON PURPOSE SMILING.
Also, pouting.
But the SMILING, good god. All of a sudden with the goony SMILING and the cooing sounds and the EYE CONTACT.
Am mushy. Cannot type. Too busy talking in a ridiculously high-pitched voice, doling out belly zerberts, nibbling baby toes, acting like a love-drunk fool, etc.
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