You know what I’m doing right now? I’m typing with two hands. I’m also holding Max. He’s asleep.
How am I doing both you ask? I’m wearing him.
Holy moly. I have two hands again.
Max does not like to sleep alone. I either have to hold him or sleep next to him and while this is nice for a nap, there are moments in my day that I would like to, I don’t know, pee or perhaps write or get a glass of juice. And now I can. We’ll see if he likes it when he’s awake, but until then, I’m partying like it’s 1999 only quietly and with my keyboard and a glass of cranberry juice. Well, I’m whooping it up in my head.
So, let me just say now that I’ve shared my two handed typing joy, thank you. Thank you for all the wonderful comments and all the advice. I really like the advice. I need it.
With the colic, we’ve got everything from the drops to the suppositories. We are trying it all. I’ve eliminated all dairy, onions, beans, broccoli, peppers, beef, chicken, garlic and anything with actual flavor from my diet. I’m doing the tortilla and lunch meat thing. We’re picking up a swing this weekend. I have a bouncy seat. And most important, ear plugs.
I’m actually doing okay right now. He seems to have “evening colic”, which while four hours of screaming tires him out so he sleeps ALL NIGHT LONG, mostly. I get up and pump, but I’ve had actual sleep. One day between the night and the afternoon nap I had a whole eight hours in a 24 hr period. Granted, I hadn’t slept for a full 36 hour prior, but that was in the past and I’m looking forward! Eight hours in one day? I felt like a princess. I felt like I had my brain back. I felt like I could talk to Sparky without crying from sheer exhaustion.
The funny thing is, at least for me, is that I feel closer to Max when he’s screaming and I’m holding him than I do when breastfeeding. I’m not a natural BF-er at all. I’m doing it because I think its better for him, but I connect to him more when he’s screaming and needs someone just to tell him they’re there.
I find this weird zen place and can take the noise (if I’ve had enough sleep, this seems to be the key). I just want him to know that I will always be there and I won’t leave him to cry. Yet. When he’s 40, he’ll have to figure it out on his own.
So much for parenting styles, eh?