So this is what unconditional love sounds like

R and I have really been blessed with D. She was never colicky as a newborn, generally not fussy very often at all, doesn’t get all bent out of shape when we take her places and she has to adjust her schedule to new and unfamiliar surroundings, and is just a really happy kid overall. But in the past week or so she has adopted a new bedtime routine – screaming. And not just your ordinary run-of-the-mill screaming; I mean screaming like someone’s poking her with a branding iron.

Her normal bedtime routine has been fairly consistent since birth. After the last time she nurses for the night she falls asleep on my shoulder and I put her to bed shortly thereafter. Even if she wakes up a little after eating, we can usually still just put her in her crib with her rain forest sounds on and rainbow light on the ceiling, and she’ll put herself to sleep within a few minutes. Alas, those days of easy sleepy time have apparently been forgotten. Now when I try to put her to bed she looks at me like just what do you think you’re doing, Mom?, and starts crying. This has occurred almost every night for about the past week. Even if she has fallen asleep on my shoulder after eating she wakes up as soon as she feels herself being put in her crib and the cries begin. And if R goes in there after a while to try and comfort her, she starts screaming even harder. Odd.

Last night I thought maybe we had it licked. The usual crying happened instantly when I put her down the first time, so I didn’t even try to fight it and just took her back out into the living room. It was a little early for her to go down for the night anyway even though she was obviously tired, so I didn’t really think too much of it, knowing how the past couple nights have been going. And of course she started playing and laughing right away, as if to say see, I told you I wasn’t ready for bed. Silly Mommy. Strike 1.

About an hour later she was getting real dozy in my arms (plus it was getting to be my bedtime too), so R said just try putting her down and if she cries, she cries. Okey dokey, here goes nothing. Of course the wails started right on cue as I laid her down, so I turned on her rain forest sounds and light and just let her cry. I proceeded to go to bed, and after about 10 minutes sure enough, the screams subsided and the individual cries became very few and far between. Success! Or so I thought. Her projector must have hit its 12 minute time limit when you have the light on, because all of a sudden she started shrieking again. Strike 2. This time R went in and got her, but as soon as he picked her up I could hear her sobs getting stronger and stronger and she approached a banshee decibel level. Ok, time for Mommy to step back in. As soon as I took her from R she calmed down, as usual. So yet again, after a few more minutes I nursed her once more and she was knocked out for the night. I guess 3rd time’s a charm, eh?

Throughout all of this I’m pretty surprised I never get mad or really upset at all, seeing how I was born with a negative patience level. Besides being disappointed that I get less sleep than I’d like, the more overriding emotion is feeling so bad for D. That poor little red face and gasps and sobs and rivers of tears are enough to break your heart. I’m sure letting her cry it out is the way to conquer this night time terror fest, but once she reaches a fever pitch I start to get a little nervous. Unhappy crying is one thing; screaming bloody murder like Freddy Krueger is in her crib is quite another.

Last night proved once again that my Mommy love is totally different than any other kind – it is 100% completely and undeniably unconditional. For if anyone else screamed in my face that they didn’t want to go to bed when I was bone tired and trying to go to bed myself, they would promptly be told to shut the f up. 😉

Oh, but I will take any suggestions on how to get rid of this bedtime beast once and for all…

The verdict is in

I think we have a little water bug! D seemed to like her first swim class the other night, so hopefully that bodes well for the rest of the session. She was a little apprehensive when we first got in, like Mom, what in the world are we doing? But once we were fully in the water she was all about it. She kicks like mad too – a natural breaststroker!

I'm at swim class!

 

 

 

 

 

 

C'mon, Mom, let me in there!
Hey guys, this is fun!

One fish, Two fish

I am so excited! Tonight is D’s first Parent Tot swim class, and I can’t wait to see how she likes (or doesn’t like, I guess) the water. She loves to splash around in her bathtub now, so I’m very optimistic that she’ll enjoy the pool as well and not be one of those kids who screams when they approach it. I’m sure all we’ll be doing is dunking them up and down and floating them around to get used to the water, but I really want her to grow up not being afraid of it.

SM, don’t tell me you’re trying to start D’s swimming career already?! Uh, no. As most of you know, I swam all through high school and college and am also now on a Masters swim team in the area (when I actually make it to a practice, that is, which hasn’t yet happened since D was born. oops!). I am often asked whether or not our kids will be swimmers. I don’t know, that’s up to them. My parents didn’t force me to be a pool rat by any means; it just happened to be a sport at which I excelled. If D, and any possible future siblings, choose that same fate of chlorine-laced skin and hair, then more power to them. It does take a little bit of crazy to enjoy diving into cold water only to swim back and forth in a straight line for hours on end. 😉

But back to our little fish. Here is D trying on her first swim suit last night. Talk about cuteness defined!

Heartstrings, consider yourselves tugged

When I picked D up from daycare today, she was her usual jovial little self. Sitting in front of the mirrored play boxes, she was happy as a clam with one of those cloth books in her lap. Save the 2 bags of pooped-on clothes in her cubby, it seemed it had been a pretty good day.

Then on the way out we were sitting in a chair in front of the classroom next to D’s as I was putting her hat and coat on, when I happened to glance in the door of that room. One of the little girls in there, maybe a few months older than D, was sitting on the floor just sobbing and looking out at us. Big crocodile tears, bottom lip quivering and sticking out as far as humanly possible, tiny little chest and neck heaving with each huge crying gulp. Oh.my.god. Somebody pick that girl up and love her to death!! I felt so horrible seeing her just sitting there in what appeared to be utter agony. Turns out she was just upset because the little playmate next to her had taken away the dump truck she’d been playing with, but still! I wanted to rush in there and smother her with hugs.

And then I realized this whole motherhood thing really has changed me. You see, before I had D, I would have seen that baby crying and thought oh man, she looks unhappy, that’s too bad. But now? I took one look at that ridiculously sad little face and instantly flipped into oh-my-gosh-i-have-to-go-rescue-that-baby mode. The exact same thing happens when D has one of her crying jags. They don’t happen often, fortunately, but when that inconsolable cry starts, I just feel like my heart is being ripped out until I can fix whatever is wrong. That’s my job now – fix it! Make it better!

Yep, I’m a mommy.

Hmm…

I’ve been noticing that in the keyboard picture in my header here, D’s left pinky looks like it got chopped off at the top knuckle. Rest assured, all of her digits are whole and in order. I guess the photo right next to it is her left hand too, but here’s more evidence:

Just in case you were worried about that too. 😉