I hate to admit this. But admitting it and owning it are the first steps to overcoming it and moving on.
I have a fussy baby. A VERY fussy baby.
There are a few choice moments in which this child is calm and content. They come in the morning for about 20 minutes only to disappear until the next day.
During those golden moments I don't get much more done than when he is fussy because I just sit there with him in my lap. Soaking in the sunshine and golden-ness that is this non-crying child. Very much enjoying motherhood and trying to pry a smile from him, or at least twinkle eyes, so that I may last throughout the remainder of the day in one. sane. piece...........
That was how this post was going to start.....yesterday.
I've been toying with this post in my brain since yesterday. I've come at it from different angles and word choices. Today, however, is much different than yesterday and therefore this post will more likely morph into more than was originally intended by the author, Me.
The reason behind the difference is tender mercies from my Heavenly Father. Coming to me in the form of sleep. Sleep of a newborn, NOT in my arms. I am thoroughly convinced that any sleeping newborn, who posses a fussy nature, is a direct result of divine intervention and to say otherwise should be deemed blasphemous.
That being said, yesterday, I was the proud owner of a fussy baby. One who had been fussy for a few days, but who decided to kick it up a notch yesterday. From 6:30 - 11:30 the only time he did not cry was when he was eating. He's a boobaholic for sure.
He had pretty much cried MOST of the day. Despite my best efforts. Except for the 15-20 minutes after the first morning feeding and the 1 1/2 hour window of time that he was napping while I was out to lunch with my mom and sister for Mom's 51st birthday (Happy Birthday, Mom!)
But what can you do. The other three need attention at least some point in the day. I mean, the kids have to eat. It's a law or something. Although my 6 year-old did make everyone a very nourishing lunch of corn dogs (hallelujah for microwaveable food!) and my 4 year old set the table and got everyone drinks. They even put Tennyson in his booster for him. All the while Larry Lunch Mouth was attached to for the 12th time that day because he was convinced there was no happiness on this Earth for him otherwise.
He never really napped yesterday. Unless he was attached.
So by 11:30pm I was done. I was still calm, but I needed my body back and simple, non-strategic thoughts about what I would try next running through my head.
He FINALLY, peacefully, without me rocking him, fell asleep.
And he slept.
And I slept.
Until 6 am.
And then he ate and went back to sleep. On his own.
And I slept.
He didn't get up again until 10. ( I of course got up early with the other ankle biters)
Then he ate.
We had our 30 minutes of Golden time. I actually got twinkle eyes today.
He started to fussed. I put him to bed. And he fell asleep. All on his own.
There has been virtually no crying today.
So now I am different. And this post is different.
And I am grateful for the difference and fully acknowledge the source from which it came.