Big boy = big, shaking right bicep
Hefty Monster (aka Isaac) has a definite mommy-arm preference when it comes to being carried. I flexed my right bicep for Mike the other night and it elicited a "geez, woman!" On one hand, of course I feel a little G.L.O.W.-ed out and buff, but on the other hand, I also just feel tired. So tired.
Isaac has decided that sleeping with me is no longer for him. Since he was two months old, we have had a nightly routine: 1) put baby to sleep or almost to sleep at 8 or 9 pm, 2) lay him in crib, 3) playtime for grownups (minds out of the gutter, please) leading to late bedtime for grownups, at 11 or even later for Claire, 4) wake-up time for Isaac, depending on how sadistic he's feeling, at either midnight or at 2 or 3, then 5) Claire and Isaac go snuggle up to sleep out the rest of the night. Well, now #5 is almost totally out of the question, as far as the mom-sleep goes, as Isaac has become a major tosser-and-turner. I suppose now I have to try to get up in the middle of the night, feed him while I stay awake, and then go back to my own bed for sleep. It all just sounds so friggin' painful, since I have to, oh yeah, get up early and go to WORK now. Stupid baby. Stupid work.
When I'm not being bitter about my newfound sleep-deprivation (somehow it was all so much easier to take when he was 2 weeks old), Isaac and I are duking it out over this new rice-cereal thing. I have a couple of problems with this: 1) the rice cereal must be made with breast milk, which is almost as precious as gold around here, and 2) the stupid Gerber folks had somehow convinced me to make it so thin so that it could run in neat rivulets down into one of his many chins, only to become stuck there to rot throughout the day because he refuses to let me clean under his neck. Last night I made him some thicker cereal, and tried to make him eat it in his new chair, and about 4 spoonfuls in he starts screaming bloody-murder. First I think that it's because he's in his new "high chair", which basically forces him to sit straight up, and maybe that's hard on his poor wittle tushy. Then I taste the cereal I'm making him eat, and I realize I've made it with milk that's gone bad. Can mom win? Heck, naw. Sigh.
On a brighter note, we are convinced that Isaac will start crawling any day now, and he has become a master grabber (take note of the pix below for examples). We bought these new wooden ABC blocks for him, that are the most perfect size for his little hand to grab. He is also fascinated with his new role as Bringer of Entropy, where I build little towers of the blocks and karate-chops them down.
Isaac has decided that sleeping with me is no longer for him. Since he was two months old, we have had a nightly routine: 1) put baby to sleep or almost to sleep at 8 or 9 pm, 2) lay him in crib, 3) playtime for grownups (minds out of the gutter, please) leading to late bedtime for grownups, at 11 or even later for Claire, 4) wake-up time for Isaac, depending on how sadistic he's feeling, at either midnight or at 2 or 3, then 5) Claire and Isaac go snuggle up to sleep out the rest of the night. Well, now #5 is almost totally out of the question, as far as the mom-sleep goes, as Isaac has become a major tosser-and-turner. I suppose now I have to try to get up in the middle of the night, feed him while I stay awake, and then go back to my own bed for sleep. It all just sounds so friggin' painful, since I have to, oh yeah, get up early and go to WORK now. Stupid baby. Stupid work.
When I'm not being bitter about my newfound sleep-deprivation (somehow it was all so much easier to take when he was 2 weeks old), Isaac and I are duking it out over this new rice-cereal thing. I have a couple of problems with this: 1) the rice cereal must be made with breast milk, which is almost as precious as gold around here, and 2) the stupid Gerber folks had somehow convinced me to make it so thin so that it could run in neat rivulets down into one of his many chins, only to become stuck there to rot throughout the day because he refuses to let me clean under his neck. Last night I made him some thicker cereal, and tried to make him eat it in his new chair, and about 4 spoonfuls in he starts screaming bloody-murder. First I think that it's because he's in his new "high chair", which basically forces him to sit straight up, and maybe that's hard on his poor wittle tushy. Then I taste the cereal I'm making him eat, and I realize I've made it with milk that's gone bad. Can mom win? Heck, naw. Sigh.
On a brighter note, we are convinced that Isaac will start crawling any day now, and he has become a master grabber (take note of the pix below for examples). We bought these new wooden ABC blocks for him, that are the most perfect size for his little hand to grab. He is also fascinated with his new role as Bringer of Entropy, where I build little towers of the blocks and karate-chops them down.
posted by Claire at 10:17 AM
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