"People who say they sleep like a baby usually don't have one." - Leo J. Burke
MJJJ asks, we leap to obey.
Not a current photo, but one of my faves. a ton more on Flickr, if you want to browse....)
No poop today.
In trying to get the Little Guy off to sleep just now, I reflected on the fact that practically the last thing he does before he goes to sleep is burp.
Bleah. There are many ways in which I'm fairly sure its quite awful to be a baby, and this is one. Not only do you go to sleep with formula-burp in your mouth, but you wake up with it, too, all fermented. Although, at least, after his ped recommended that we start mixing his formula with Chamomile Tea instead of plain water his burps have not been quite as noxious - a more pleasant Chamomile scent, actually.
Side Note: For some reason every time I have to come up with the word Pediatrician my brain delivers up the word Veterinarian instead. What woudl Freud make of that, I wonder?
I often reflect on what the Little Guy must think about as we cart him about. Tonight I put him in his crib wide awake and wiggling, which is unusual, as he normally dozes off with his warm bottle and all the snuggles. But tonight I had to pee, so I tenderly plunked him down, gave his mobile a spin, shut off the light and dashed for the bathroom, leaving him looking after me with those big dark eyes, brow knitted, slightly puzzled. Moxie once wrote "A little baby has no knowledge of the world and also no sense of time, so there's really no way a baby that small can understand that you're in the other room but are still in the world. For a small baby, if you're not there, you don't exist, and s/he's alone in the world." That has stuck with me, and was running through my mind as I was peeing, actually. As I left the room, did I walk out of the world to him? Did I cease to exist? At 11 weeks old, is he old enough to know that I'm coming back?
When he was three weeks old, his father went to Pennsylvania for a week (which was very traumatic for Daddy - "I've missed a quarter of his life" he was heard to say), and I will swear to anyone that the Little Guy missed his Daddy terribly - I believe that's when he learned to fight sleep, as he tried and tried to stay awake until his Daddy got home.
Truth to be told, its part of the reason I am fighting his father so hard about having him sleep a full night in his "big crib" - I can't stand the idea of him waking up alone in a dark room and thinking he's all alone in the world.
Plus how else would I put my hand on his tummy just before I fall asleep to make sure he's still breathing? Hmmm?
Not a current photo, but one of my faves. a ton more on Flickr, if you want to browse....)
No poop today.
In trying to get the Little Guy off to sleep just now, I reflected on the fact that practically the last thing he does before he goes to sleep is burp.
Bleah. There are many ways in which I'm fairly sure its quite awful to be a baby, and this is one. Not only do you go to sleep with formula-burp in your mouth, but you wake up with it, too, all fermented. Although, at least, after his ped recommended that we start mixing his formula with Chamomile Tea instead of plain water his burps have not been quite as noxious - a more pleasant Chamomile scent, actually.
Side Note: For some reason every time I have to come up with the word Pediatrician my brain delivers up the word Veterinarian instead. What woudl Freud make of that, I wonder?
I often reflect on what the Little Guy must think about as we cart him about. Tonight I put him in his crib wide awake and wiggling, which is unusual, as he normally dozes off with his warm bottle and all the snuggles. But tonight I had to pee, so I tenderly plunked him down, gave his mobile a spin, shut off the light and dashed for the bathroom, leaving him looking after me with those big dark eyes, brow knitted, slightly puzzled. Moxie once wrote "A little baby has no knowledge of the world and also no sense of time, so there's really no way a baby that small can understand that you're in the other room but are still in the world. For a small baby, if you're not there, you don't exist, and s/he's alone in the world." That has stuck with me, and was running through my mind as I was peeing, actually. As I left the room, did I walk out of the world to him? Did I cease to exist? At 11 weeks old, is he old enough to know that I'm coming back?
When he was three weeks old, his father went to Pennsylvania for a week (which was very traumatic for Daddy - "I've missed a quarter of his life" he was heard to say), and I will swear to anyone that the Little Guy missed his Daddy terribly - I believe that's when he learned to fight sleep, as he tried and tried to stay awake until his Daddy got home.
Truth to be told, its part of the reason I am fighting his father so hard about having him sleep a full night in his "big crib" - I can't stand the idea of him waking up alone in a dark room and thinking he's all alone in the world.
Plus how else would I put my hand on his tummy just before I fall asleep to make sure he's still breathing? Hmmm?
