I Should Change My Blog Name to Debbie in Downerland

I can't believe it's been almost 2 weeks since my last blog entry.  To be honest I've been avoiding blogging because there's really nothing good to say.  And you know what your mother would say--if you don't have anything good to say, don't say anything at all.

But I suppose it's worth noting the hum-drum and the glum, if only for posterity's sake.

Noah's eye infection is driving me crazy.  It had all but completely cleared up 2 days ago, but just yesterday flared up again.  Today it looks as bad as ever.  ARGH.

Also frustrating is that Noah has seemed to have completely lost the ability to sleep on his own.  It's as if I've never sleep-trained the guy.  Good grief.  And he's been crying a lot in his car seat for no discernible reason.

And he's heavy.  Really, achy, my-body-is-breaking-down-carrying-this-guy kind of heavy.  Eighteen pounds.  That's like Thanksgiving turkey.  But this turkey jerks around and can't support his own torso.

Heck yeah I'm only 4 months but wearing a onesie for an 18 month old. 95th percentile biatches.

So here's a snapshot of what goes on in my head on a typical day--ugh Noah is crying and not napping, ugh Noah's eye looks like a horror show, ugh Noah is awake but cranky because he didn't nap well, ugh time to put Noah down for another nap and hear him cry, ugh Noah isn't nursing well, ugh Noah is crying like crazy in his car seat, ugh Noah is so fussy, rinse and repeat.

To be honest, Noah isn't really a 'hard' baby.  He's quite average.  But I've come to realize that I just suck at being a baby caretaker.  My temperament seems to be the exact wrong one for enjoying babydom.  I hate unpredictability.  I hate not being in control.  I hate uncertainty.  And I absolutely hate the sound of crying.

I may not be perfect, but my HAIR is perfect.  You gotta give me that.

The spouse, a paragon of eternal sunshine and optimism, keeps telling me to stop being such a pessimist.  The glass is half full!  Noah's eye is going to get better because at least now we know the medicine can work.  Noah learned to sleep on his own so he can learn it again.  Everything's going to be great and fine and things are always looking up!

Gosh it must be nice to be an optimist.  What I wouldn't give to live inside his head for just an hour!

Baby Hell

Well, just when I thought things were getting better, life (aka, Noah) throws a big fat old ugly crying wrench at me.

All of a sudden, he's been crying his head off instead of sleeping as if he never learned to sleep in his crib.  Last night, I actually let him cry for 2 hours in his crib before finally rescuing him.  TWO HOURS!  Judah never cried that long when I sleep-trained him--45 minutes tops.  But Noah has the stamina of a team of wild horses, apparently.  The dude cried like he was being dipped in battery acid for TWO HOURS and probably would've kept going if I had the heart to let him.

In general, Noah's napping/sleeping has deteriorated to the point where I absolutely dread nap times and bedtimes.  At some point I know I will be asking myself to make the impossible choice--pick him up and risk 'spoiling' him or let him cry for a long time and feel myself shrivel up and die.

Noah and his horrible eye infection.

To make matters worse, whenever Noah cries for a long time his eye infection gets much much worse.  In general, his eye is not getting any better and it's making me beyond frustrated and sad.  It looks so flaming angry and red after a big cry session--like something that spawned from the evil of Mordeth in Shadar Logoth (so sue me, I'm a fantasy nerd going through the Wheel of Time series while I'm waiting for G.R.R. Martin to take his sweet honey time finishing Book 7-9 of Game of Thrones.  Any day now Martin!)

Anyway, where was I?

Oh yeah, hell.  Baby hell.  A land where everyone's tired and cranky but nobody sleeps.  Ever.

Population: me.

Ramblings of the Sleep-Deprived

I'm tired.

Bone. Tired.

Everyday I fall about an hour more behind in my sleep deficit.  This entire week was full of crap sleep.  I usually have a couple hours of insomnia each night, but yesterday Noah decided to wake up and cry his ever-loving head off no less than 6 times in the night.  Ugh.

However much Noah deprives me of rest, he more than makes up in chubbiness.  That sentence doesn't really make sense.  I'm tired.

I really think having babies is a young person's game.  I'm just too old for this no-sleep sh*t.  I think once you hit 30+ you just can't live off 5 hours of sleep like you could in your early twenties.

I remember my good ol' college days--clubbing until 2:30 am and then stumbling to class at 8 am and feeling just fine and dandy.  But now.  Oh man, if I don't get at least 7.5 hours I'm in a world of hurt.

But Noah's not the only one causing us to lose sleep.  Judah has gotten into a new phase of being scared at night.  He wakes up around 2 or 3 am and screams his head off until one of us drags him into our room to sleep with us.  And once there he proceeds to squirm around and kick us a couple times every hour.  Joy.

So, in short, we are tired.

So tired in fact that we actually had this very pathetic conversation last week.

Spouse: If you could magically push a button and make our kids painlessly disappear, would you?

Me: Isn't that like...murder?

Spouse: No...I said "disappear."

Me:  Isn't that like what the mafia says when they want someone murdered?  'Disappear', 'taken care of', 'sleep with the fishes'?

And then we just had to laugh at how sad our lives had become.  Of course we love our kids and couldn't imagine life without them.

But yeah, if I had a magic button, I would totally press it from 10 pm to 8 am in the morning.

Week 17 and 18

Today Noah had his 4 month check up.  He's still hitting his percentile curves exactly--95th percentile in weight, 90th percentile in height and 50th percentile in his pee-wee head.  That's my boy.

His main medical issues are some dry skin around his eyes that may have gotten infected and some major eczema all over his body.  Not a big deal as medical issues go.

Noah and his puffy red eye condition.

Throughout the appt Noah kept demonstrating his amazing athleticism by continually rolling onto his tummy and grabbing the stethoscope with a baby death-grip.  Show-off.

Finally started sitting in the Bumbo last week (yes, I know it's supposed to be on the floor)

Life with Noah is getting slowly easier although it really is hard to roll with the punches.  I STILL can't figure out his routine from day to day.  Sometimes he naps for 40 min and sometimes it's 2 hours.  It's pretty impossible to predict.  And then just when I think I have things figured out, of course it changes.

Ah babies, they sure keep you on your toes.

One Brief Shining Moment

Lately Judah has been turning into a super-whiny and irritating guy.

He is really into changing his mind a thousand times--I want juice, no I don't want juice, no I WANT juice, no I DON'T want juice, etc.

And anytime things don't go his way (which is a lot--no lunch! no dinner! no nap! no bedtime! no leaving the park! no going inside! no going outside!) this demon face is sure to rear its ugly head:

So let's just say Mother's Day was no picnic for me.  Or, as my friend put it--every day is mother's day!  Ha ha ha ha.

But there was one shining moment today that I will hold on to forever in my memory bank of treasures.  I was getting ready for church in the morning, wearing a dress (which is rare for me), and had just pulled my hair back in a pony-tail (also rare), when I hear Judah's little voice behind me saying,

"Mommy, you look like a princess!"

What?  Wow, I never hear that word.  All day, every day I only hear about policemen, robbers, batman, robin, jokerman, and the occasional fireman.  So of course it made me feel...like a princess.

And I can think of no better mother's day gift than that.

The Meaning of Mother's Day

Judah brought home some mother's day gifts he made at daycare.

The best kind of bouquet--lasts forever!

Silly little things but it made my heart swell with joy.

So cute and a wee bit drooly.

He said, "It's for Mother's Day," so I asked him what Mother's Day means.

And he replied "It's for loving you."

Man they teach him well at that daycare!

Week 15 and 16

We are slowly, ever so slowly inching our way out of the deep dark hole called "having a newborn."

Noah's congestion has cleared up a lot in the last couple weeks, which makes me think he probably just had a lingering cold.  Phew.  Of course, being the control-freak that I am, I'm already wondering how I can prevent another horrible cold from happening to Noah--probably nothing more than I'm already doing.

Also nap-training is getting a tiny bit better.  Noah will now sleep a solid 45 min - 2 hours with only a couple minutes of crying.  Much improved but some days are still better than others.

And I met a couple more mom friends in my neighborhood so I don't feel as isolated as before.  One of them even invited us to her son's birthday party last week which was a major highlight for Judah.

Things have improved so much we even went on our first fun family outing in 4 months--a trip to the zoo of course.

Judah takes a rare break from his police attire to put on his "fireman" uniform.

Judah asked if the super-croc was "real" and got me tripped up explaining fake fossils for extinct animals.  Brain melt.

Obviously he had to drive the fire engine since he was a fireman that day.

This, ladies and gents, is what pure joy looks like.

But don't get me wrong, things are far from perfect still.  I still curse the mornings (but more so because of sleep-deprivation than not having the will to live).  I still miss Judah like crazy when he's away at daycare (even though I know I still don't have the energy to handle him more at home).  And we still have nursing issues--I won't bore you with the details but let's just say plugged ducts suck.

But despite all that, I find myself falling head over heals in love with my fat goober more every day.  It's amazing how different brothers can be.  At this age, Judah was so visually curious and wanted to see everything that he only wanted to sit in the Bumbo.  His core muscles became freakishly strong and he sat upright really early on.

Noah on the other hand is perfectly content to be in his reclining bouncey chair and can't sit in the Bumbo at all.  But he LOVES tummy time.  Noah is always trying to roll onto his tummy and once there, can actually lift his butt high in the air and inch forward.  OMG he's almost crawling!!!!!

I think we have a crawler finally!!!!

I'm allowed to be over-excited because Judah never learned to crawl.  He detested tummy time and went straight from sitting to standing to walking.  That guy had no patience for being close to the ground.

My two boys are so different in so many ways (though physically they're pretty similar--big and fat with a little head).  And I couldn't possibly love them more.

And What the Police Gonna Say?

For the last 2-3 months Judah has been obsessed with being a policeman.

 He refuses to wear anything that isn't blue because he wants to always be in "uniform."  He especially loves the "police" t-shirt in the picture so much that I finally just bought 2 more so we could avoid the inevitable epic meltdowns when the shirt had to be washed.  (If you look closely at my last few blog entries, you can see this shirt in almost every pic of Judah).

Judah imagines he's being a good policeman by helping wash dishes.

But dressing like a policeman is not good enough for Judah anymore.

Now he wants to know every aspect of their lives and whether his life comports with that.  Almost everything I say to him is followed by a question about police.

For example, I'll say, "Do you need to go potty?"
And Judah responds, "Do police go potty?"

Or I'll put some mac 'n' cheese in front of him and he asks, "Do police eat mac 'n' cheese?"
He still hasn't realized the uncanny coincidence that the police love eating everything that mommy has happened to put in front of him--especially turkey and broccoli.

But by far the most annoying thing is Judah's need to gauge how a policeman would respond to any given situation.  About 500x a day Judah wants to know "What the police gonna say?"

For example, I'll say "Listen to mommy or you're going to get a time out."  And Judah will say "And what the police gonna say to me?"

I usually just turn it into a kind of morality tale--"Umm, the police are going to say--you better listen to your mommy or else you're going to jail."

But other times, it's just so random.  Today I said "You love eating mangoes!" after watching him inhale several mango pieces.  And Judah said "And what the police gonna say?"

What?  The police don't give a rat's butt about how you love eating mangoes.  Weirdo.

Instead, I mumbled something about how eating mangoes will make you stronger so you can catch the robbers.

That's what my life has become--a constant attempt to imagine what the police are going to say to my 2 year old in any given situation.

Wetness

I just have to note that this is the grossest period of Judah's life so far.

I realize now that poop and pee I have no problem with.

But what totally grosses me out is drool and snot--which, sadly, oozes out of Judah in abundance.  The boy does not seem capable of keeping his saliva in his mouth.  When he gets excited, when he's talking, when he's eating, frankly, anytime of the day, large puddles of drool form below him.

And the snot.  The endless snot.  Ever flowing and getting wiped all over his crusty face.  And to make matters worse, Judah's really into picking his nose now.  At all times of the day the boy is busy digging for gold.

It's gotten so bad I actually reflexively recoil when he wants to hug me.  I'll make a mad dash for the nearest paper towel, wipe down his face, and then give him a hug.  And even then I usually end up with some giant wet spot on my shirt, or God forbid, on my arm if I'm wearing something sleeveless.  Eeeeeeew.

But Noah doesn't seem to mind.  Shortly after this picture was taken I saw a long string of drool travel from Judah's mouth down to Noah's hair.

I really can't explain this.

I was horrified but Noah was all, eh, no big deal.

Another reason why babies are awesome.

The Not-so-well Checkup

Recently we went to the peds for Noah's 3 month well-check.

Turns out he's the same percentile as his 2 month self--16 lbs (95th) in weight, 25 inches (75-90th) in height, and 40 inches (50th) in head circumference.

Judah tagged along and felt like a very big-boy helper. I guess he's at that stage where he wants to "help" with everything.  Half the things he says now is "I can help you!"

He especially wanted to make sure he was there to comfort Noah when it was time for shots. But when the big moment came Judah folded like a cheap suit in pain and sympathy, awwwwww.  I ended up having to comfort Judah who was much more shell-shocked than Noah.

Two babies crying from shots--one of them vicariously.

My most pressing question for the doc was--why is Noah's nose so stuffed? The last week and a half have been so torturous with no end in sight. The doctor said it was probably back to back colds compounded by unusually small nasal passages. If the problem doesn't get better in two weeks we could get an x-ray if we wanted.

This was not the answer I hoped for (wait and see, nothing to do) so I got a second opinion from the urgent care doctor, who basically told me the same thing again.

Meanwhile I've been referring to Noah as the little buzz-saw or baby Darth Vader. Either way, it kinda sucks.

Weeks 12, 13 and 14

Wow, I've really fallen off the blogging wagon (which is ironic because I actually have a ton of thoughts I want to blog about--mom guilt, being a stay-at-home mom, how totally incompetent I feel everyday, etc.)

Okay, time to get back on it with new resolve--more blog entries from now on!

Anyway, here's the monster recap of the last 3 weeks:

Week 12--Got depressed because of my lack of social interaction.  Staying home with the baby all day is beyond boring but he's still too fussy and unpredictable to take out on an outing.

I rock the tummy-time head and chest lift.  Check it out ladies.

Week 13--Got depressed because Noah suddenly got crazy congested and couldn't breathe (and the congestion is so deep in his nose that there's no snot to suck out).  I didn't think he had a cold since he had no other symptoms and as I mentioned in my previous post, I've been catching ALL the germs from Judah so Noah should be immune.  Anyway, no breathing from baby means really poor nursing, which means plugged ducts and the imminent threat of mastitis.  AND really poor sleeping, for him and me.  UGH.

I was looking forward to discussing Noah's nose at his next dr's visit but then I lost track of the time and missed the appointment.  That was the final straw.  I bawled my eyes out and cursed to the heavens.

I may look calm but I seriously can't breathe!

Week 14--Noah is still congested.  I've been continuing his nap training (i.e., letting him cry and cry and cry and try to figure out how to nap in his crib without any human assistance) and see only the slightest signs of improvement.  He still cries like crazy for long periods and it still makes me want to shrivel up and die for every minute of his crying.

Noah being comforted by dad after another bad nap-training session.  He fought the mattress...and lost.

So there you have it--the trifecta of mommy misery--social isolation, nap-training, and bad congestion.

But, nevertheless, there are such amazingly sweet moments as Noah blossoms socially.  It's impossible to describe how intoxicating his little smiles and giggles are--I seriously daydream about them as I drift off to sleep.

For all the clouds and shadows, for all the blues and bruises, and head-achy tired days, things are definitely getting better as Noah gets older.  I mean, they have to, right?

Catching Microscopic Live Grenades

I have been a germaphobe all my life.

There's nothing I hate more than being/getting sick.

Yes, I'm that crazy lady that touches door handles only with my sweater pulled over my hands.  And I punch elevator buttons with the tip of my pinky.  And I wince when I have to use 'public' pens, like at the doctor's office, and I will hold the pen awkwardly at the highest possible point because that's where most people won't touch it.

But now, because I have a toddler that goes to daycare (read: cesspool of human decay and all unholy things), I run toward germs (i.e., my toddler) like someone catching a live grenade.

As soon as Judah comes home, I rush over to him and try to get him to kiss me full on the lips.  Mmmmm, love the taste of germy germs.  Sorry, Judah, it's not cuz mommy loves you so much as it's mommy trying ON PURPOSE to catch your germs.

Why?

Because I'm desperately trying to protect Noah from getting sick.  Hopefully my body will make the requisite antibodies and Noah will be the beneficiary of them through my breast milk--mother nature's ingenious way of protecting helpless little infants.

When Noah was just 6 weeks old he caught a bug from Judah and life was miserable for about 2 weeks.  Noah couldn't breathe (and therefore could barely nurse) and yet needed to nurse more frequently for comfort and fluids.  Argh.

All this to say, yet another reason why motherhood sucks.  I will be running to catch every god-forsaken disease my toddler brings home for at least another few months.  And, BONUS, I can't take any comforting medication to ease my horrible symptoms for fear of it passing through my breast milk.

Oy vey.

Weeks 10 and 11

The bane of my existence is Noah's naps.

The guy seems to want to sleep all the time, BUT he will only sleep if you're holding him and rocking/bouncing him.

I've been doing some nap-training but Noah doesn't seem to get the message.  I'll put him down in the crib drowsy but awake and he'll cry for about 7 minutes and then I'll think, wonderful, he's finally sleeping.  But every 20 minutes, like clockwork, he wakes up and cries bloody murder anywhere from 8-30 minutes (he could probably cry longer if I left him in there longer).

Dr. Evil could not devise a more painful torture than NOT napping.

This has been going on for weeks now and I'm at my wits' end.  Not to mention my last nerve.  I don't think there's any worse sound than to hear your baby crying and wailing interminably.  I swear I would go through labor all over again, if only that would guarantee he could be an easy napper.  Nap training is THAT painful.

You're cute and all but you suck at napping.

So naturally, the question arises--if nap training is that abysmal, why not just hold him for his naps?  I totally would, but he has rejected all 'easy' methods of holding.  I used to be able to pop him in the ergo carrier and bounce him to sweet oblivion, but just last week he's completely rejected it!  It seems Noah has rejected all forms of holding EXCEPT the most energy-intensive--straight up holding in your arms and bouncing on the ball.  Sorry kid, but you're nearly 15 pounds.  There is no way I'm going to do this for 90 minutes, 4 times a day.

Big and beautiful--with a small side of butt rash.

My one hope and consolation is that Noah will finally learn to self-soothe better after 12 weeks.  All the baby books seem to say that the post-3 month period is a magical time for baby development.  Well, it better be cuz...I don't even want to think about the alternative.

To be fair, Noah really is a very happy, easy-going baby when he's not cranky tired from being unable to nap.  If only we can get the nap-thing down, I can finally get him on a routine and meet other stay-at-home moms.  I'm starting to get that really sad, isolated, lonely, bored, itchy feeling now that I've basically been staying home all day with a baby for nearly 3 months.

I love my pudgy peanut...most of the time.

But not all things are gloom and doom here.  I am enjoying Noah's emerging baby smiles and "conversations."  It's so fun as he wakes up from his sleepy newborn phase.  I love when our eyes lock and we smile and giggle at each other--ahhhhhhhh such sweet, total and utter bliss.

3000 Words

Just Judah

I miss Judah.

I miss going out with him--to the playground, to the zoo, exploring fun stuff. With Noah in the picture, it's just too hard logistically to take them out.

I also feel sad that Judah goes to daycare full-time every day except Wednesday. That's a lot of time away from us and he cries almost every morning--I don't want to go to Ms. Lori's house. I want to stay home all day!

Judah poses in front of the new garden he planted at daycare.

But it's just too exhausting contending with him at home, in addition to the baby. I honestly feel like Judah demands the amount of attention of 3 normal toddlers. He constantly wants you to play with him, constantly asks you questions, constantly requires unending interaction.

Despite all the mom-guilt I feel about carting him away, I know surviving these early weeks of babyhood is more important--for everyone. Even when Judah does stay home, I'm usually way too short-tempered with him from being crabby and tired.

We often have this conversation:
Judah: Mommy, why you mad at me?
Me: I'm not mad at you, I'm just tired.
Judah: Why don't you go to sleep?
Me: I can't sleep at night cuz Noah needs me to help him at night.
Judah: You can just let him cry.

Or after I blow up with anger at Judah, he'll try to soften things by saying "Mommy, I love you," knowing that I always respond "I love you too." That just kills me.

Recently Judah has been really into "police" clothes. He thinks anything that's blue is police attire. I had to buy him an entire new wardrobe in blue so he wouldn't fight me on clothing choices anymore.

Um, yeah, policemen totally wear those clothing items.

Today he wore his new "police" shirt and "police" pants and could not be prouder. He went around his daycare telling everyone about his police clothes and even told his stuffed animals about it when he got home.

I like to take advantage of Judah's police fetish by telling him that he needs to eat his "police" turkey and "police" vegetables. Hey, you gotta use what you can with a picky eater!

Double Butt

When Noah was born, it looked like he had 2 butt holes.

We mentioned it to the ped and she informed us that the technical term is "sacral dimple."  It can be serious and require surgery if the spine is actually stuck to the bone, but it doesn't seem to be the case with Noah.  The doc said she'll keep an eye on it.

I still prefer our non-technical term--2 butt holes.

Oh Perchance to Sleep

The poor-quality fragmented sleep I've been getting for the last 8.5 weeks have really been taking a toll on my brain.

Last week I forgot whether I closed the front door or not.  When we swung back to check, turns out I hadn't!

I frequently forget what happened a mere 5 minutes ago.

My emails are riddled with typos.

So please be kind to moms of babies under age 6 months.  We can't remember what we just said, barely have time to eat and pee, and are basically zombies.

Especially when insomnia strikes.  Every few days, when I feel really REALLY tired, I will have one night where I can't sleep at all.  Well played, insomnia.  You win again.  And again.  And will again, I'm sure.

Weeks 8 and 9

This past Monday Noah had his first set of shots.  I hadn't taken him to the doc since he was 4 days old so I was excited to find out his stats.

Noah nervously anticipates his first set of shots.

At 8 weeks Noah is 14 lbs (95th percentile), 23.5 inches long (75th percentile) and xx inches in head circumference (25th percentile).  Much like his brother at that age.  Big body and pea-sized head!

Check out my meaty thighs!

I told the doc that my most pressing issue was that Noah could not nap on his own AT ALL.  She encouraged me to do some nap-training (which made me love her so much) instead of waiting until he's 3 months old like all the books say.

Noah insisted on a modesty cover for his bath pic.

So I've been half-heartedly letting Noah cry 15-20 minutes during his naps but the little guy is not able to soothe himself to sleep.  Or, he falls asleep immediately but cries again after just 3 minutes or so, off and on, off and on until he finally loses patience and wails inconsolably.

I kind of want to give up on the nap-training, but then again, the alternative is hefting around his 14 lb body for 8 hours a day, which is pretty physically painful.  Although, that's not the worst part.  The worst part is it doesn't allow me to give much attention to Judah.

Poor Judah.  He's really going through some tough times adjusting to the new baby.  He's been a pretty good sport at the beginning but as time drags on and the baby gets needier and needier, Judah's patience has worn pretty thin.  He now has really tearful meltdowns and tantrums several times a day, and in general, just seems pretty miserable.

A rare smile from poor Judah.

Yesterday, for the first time ever in his entire life, he refused to take a bath.  He wailed, screamed, cried when I tried to coax him into the tub and I was completely perplexed and frustrated.  What the heck?!?!  He has always loved bath time!

Having a 2nd baby is no joke.  The spouse and I are exhausted and frequently exclaim "WHY DID NO ONE WARN US ABOUT THIS?!"  But the truth is, people did warn us.  We did expect it to be hard (at least for the first few months).

But head-knowledge and actual experiential-knowledge are two very different things!

The Baby Blues

I've been feeling blue lately but I can't quite put my finger on why.

Sleep deprivation is the obvious culprit.  I haven't slept more than 2 hours at a time since Noah was born and  probably won't until he's sleep-trained.  Sadly, however, sleep-training is not going as well as I hoped.  His longest sleep stretch is a mere 3 hours and he doesn't seem to be very good at self-soothing.

Don't act cute with me.  You know what a pain in the butt you are!

But it could also be because I'm sick.

And/or that I haven't touched dairy, chocolate, or caffeine in 8 weeks.

And/or I've been isolated at home because I'm deathly afraid of taking the baby out and having him catch a cold.

And/or the fact that the baby is not really on a schedule so I can't plan my day and I have almost no control over any aspect of my life.  For a type-A person to not have control...well, let's just say nothing could be worse.  Add to the mix that I'm generally a pessimist and debbie downer and it's no wonder the blues have ensued.

And/or the fact that I can't put Noah down for naps.  The physical exhaustion of holding a 12 lb child for 8-10 hours a day is definitely exacting a toll on my achy neck and shoulders.

And/or that I feel guilty about not giving Judah much attention.  Ironically I wanted to have another baby to force Judah to be less attention-needy.  To be able to play on his own and be more independent.  But instead it's just made him weepy and miserable every day.  He constantly tells me "I missed you all day at Ms. Lori's house (his daycare)."  And he falls apart every time he sees me holding Noah (which is practically all the time since I can't put Noah down for a nap).  And more than ever he constantly wants me to play with him and does not play on his own.  Ugh.

My poor neglected big boy.

This last weekend I checked in on him during nursery hour and he looked downright depressed.  I've never seen him like that before.  He's always a happy, hyper, active guy.  But even though his favorite people were joking with him and trying to cheer him up, he just sat glumly on a chair, looking downcast.

A rare moment when Noah isn't around!

Being replaced by a baby has really taken a toll on poor Judah.

Judah proudly shows off his new police badge and gave me a 'deputy' orange sticker.

I know this newborn period won't last forever.  By at least 14 weeks Noah should be able to sleep at least 5 hours at a time and take naps on his own.  But that seems like a hopeless eternity when you have the baby blues.

Every morning I wake up and regret the fact that I've woken up.  Every morning I have to give myself a mental pep-talk just to cobble together the will to go on.

Usually, it's just a simple mantra that I try to believe each time I repeat it--it won't always be like this.  It will get better.  Just get through this one day.  One more day.  One day more.

Or when it's really bad...one more hour.

Week 7: The "S" Word

It's been a sleepless, restless, exhausting week yet again at the House of Noah.

Instead of sleeping 2 hour stretches at night, it seems Noah has decided to stir every hour or so instead.  So considerate of him.  And during the day, he has now decided that he would like us to hold him for all his naps.  That's a lot of holding (and aching arms and shoulders) when you consider that he naps 8-10 hours a day.

So even though Noah's barely turned 6 weeks old, I decided this can't go on any longer.  We are all simply too exhausted.  It's one thing to indulge a newborn when he's your first and only child.  But it's another thing entirely when you're also trying to care for a very needy toddler who is constantly weepy because he's not getting even a quarter of the attention that he's used to--poor Judah.

The spouse gives Noah some 'sun' time.  We make fat babies.

So I told the spouse we are going to start sleep-training.  Now.  Ah, the dreaded 'S' word.  The bane of all parent's existence (except those lucky 10% who have kids that sleep like rocks--how I hate those people).  I scoured all the baby books for support but none of them suggested sleep-training until the baby was at least   2 and a half months.  Better to wait till 12 weeks.

Well...if I waited any longer, I'm pretty sure I'd be dead from exhaustion.  So, nope.  The only thing I took comfort in was that many books say 15 to 20 minutes of crying wouldn't hurt a newborn.  So, that's something.

The first night of sleep training I had very modest goals for Noah.  I only wanted him to hold out for at least 2.5 hours before nursing him.  And I told myself I wouldn't let him cry for more than 20 minutes.  He actually did really well and only had 1 crying bout of 20 minutes long.  Turns out, I've been going to nurse him too early--without giving him a chance to grunt and settle back down himself!  I've decided to sleep well away from his room now and put on ear plugs so I only hear his 'real' cries.

The next night of sleep training was even better.  He cried 2 separate times for 8 minutes each time and slept 3.5 hour stretches.  I heard the Hallelujah chorus in my head and dared to hope.

But you know the thing about babies...just when you think you have it figured out, they often throw you and your damned optimism out the window and take a turn for the worse.

We'll see what tonight brings...

Meanwhile I've been consoling myself in the arms of the British aristocracy.  Yes, I'm finally watching the PBS sensation--Downton Abbey--while endlessly holding and rocking the baby.  So, silver lining after all.