Saturday, November 24, 2012
I can hear those of you without kids thinking "Big deal, lady, my cat does that all day long and she can completely bathe herself with her tongue. So your kid rolled over. Who cares?" I can say this because this is what I thought when I read about someone's kid rolling over.
Here's why this is kind of a big deal -- it means your kid is not totally void in the development department. It also means you should no longer turn your back on the changing table.
Another not-so-good first happened tonight. As I carried Baby C through the kitchen I bonked her head on a cabinet door. Crap.
Time slowed down. I looked at her. She looked at me. There was a pause. I thought for a nanosecond that maybe it was okay. Then my child unleashed a scream that had the dog crawling under the bed.
I remember seeing a story on TV about kids that can't feel pain. Clearly I can cross that worry off my list. Husband and I inspected the damage, which was more a scratch than bump, and deemed it fairly minimal. That assessment did little to assuage her crying crescendo, but I felt a bit better.
Forty-five minutes of trying to soothe her ended with a bottle finally doing the trick. A nurse told me most baby problems can be solved by throwing a nipple their way. Then she paused and said the trick worked with her husband, too. I'll keep that in mind.
Here's the thing -- you know your kid is going to get hurt sometime. My dad dropped me on my head when I was a baby. Maybe that explains why my head resembles Mr. Potato Head. But for the most part, I turned out okay and fortunately the incident happened prior to my ability to remember such incidents.
Baby C will not remember this either, but I will. It's the first time I felt totally helpless in easing my kid's pain. Unfortunately it won't be the last. However, chocolate cup cookies from McClain's have helped ease my guilt. Maybe she'll like them, too. Once she has teeth. Ugh, teething.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
The daycare drop-off is getting easier. Not easy mind you, but easier. C continues to be her happy, gargling self when she's not coughing up a lung due to her first cold. It took a week in daycare to get to that milestone and I know exactly what kid passed it along. (I'm looking at you over there in the corner, Snotty McButterpants. Yes, you.)
That's okay though, because I can listen to everyone put the positive spin on it by saying, "She's building up immunity!" Right. Let's talk immunity when she's coughing everyone awake at 3 a.m. But really it's not too bad. Husband is even getting pretty deft with the snot-sucker thing.
After all my blog entries bellyaching about how hard it is to have a newborn, I can't believe I'm saying this... she's growing too fast. Seriously. I'm not ready for her to be a kiddo yet. I'm totally smitten with this baby. This is not earth-shattering news, but I've never liked babies - wouldn't hold my friends' babies, never babysat for infants, never understood the big deal about how babies smell. (I assumed they smelled like poop.) They don't.
Holy crap. I actually like this mom stuff. I make up ridiculous jingles. I have a variety of strange voices. I don't even mind the diaper change. Giving her a bath makes my day. How the hell did this happen?
The first week we brought her home, in my hormonal haze, I tried to will her older. Please become a kid so I can understand how to interact with you, I pleaded, while she screamed on the changing table. Please grow up a bit so I can have a smidgeon of my old life back, I guiltily thought.
Fortunately, that phase has passed. I told Husband this morning in an incredulous tone, "This parenting thing is not at all what I expected. It's actually fun."
And just so you know, the baby smell is actually a mix of baby shampoo, lotion and dryer sheets. Best smell ever.