Okay, so my baby is actually incredibly well-mannered. He asks for very little, and when he does it is with a squeak, not a howl. There are a handful of things that can be done to make the little guy happy and none of those things is too hard… this is true 90% of the time. The other 10% of the time is when crazy baby makes his grand appearance. Our flailing shrimp all of a sudden doesn’t just have needs, he has needs to an nth degree. Instead of needing a pat on the head, he needs a 3 hour long cuddle. Instead of humming him a lullaby, he needs a concert. This is the position I am in right at the moment. Crazy baby will not be calm unless his head is firmly planted on my chest and I am completely wrapped around him like bacon on sausage. So persistent is my little man that I have not been able to pee for the past two and half hours unless I want my little bug to dip into squeaking and snorting despair.
Tomis had about five hours worth of crazy baby last night. That was my time to sleep so I drooled and snored through it all. Now, it is my turn. I am sitting in my rocking chair wrapped around my baby, typing and rocking all at the same time. Despite the fact that I really really need to pee, I am drinking water to try and re-hydrate myself from the aforementioned Panera debacle and replenish my dwindling milk supply. In about ten minutes my sweet wiggler will need his next meal, and will hopefully slip into what our Pediatrician likes to call, “Drunk Baby.” “Drunk Baby” is probably the cutest thing in the whole world– it is the moment you pull the bottle out of his little mouth and you have an exhausted and sleepy-eyed baby in your arms with milk rolling down his chin. With his little head flopped to the side, he will give an irritated snort as you gently burp him, then put him down for a nap. That moment is so sweet it could change your whole perspective on life.