Silas has been a bit fussy lately. I think he's making up for being the perfect child for the first 10 weeks of his life, he didn't want to set the bar too high for himself. This morning he made sure that I thought it was going to be an easy morning by only waking up once during the night to nurse. He probably figured that I'd need some sleep in order to make it through the day today, it being Monday and all (ps-he was right.)
Since that one feeding, he's nursed 4 times, making sure that not one of them was normal, aka: nurse on both sides for at least ten minutes. Instead, he mixed it up a bit and would just nurse one side before becoming extremely exhausted after 6 minutes of sucking. (I knew you wanted to know.) He'd fall sound asleep, head draping over my arm, a snoring little fellow. I look at him endearingly, emit a sigh of relief, knowing that I can possibly get a few things done around the house before he wakes, and head upstairs to lay him down for a looong nap.
|Fussy little man with crazy little hairs.|
He woke up every.single.time I put him down. He must just love me too much today, wants to make sure I don't accidentally go somewhere and forget him.
The funnest part of the morning is when I smelt a little something cooking downstairs, if you know what I mean. And by funnest I mean funniest...for you, anyway...laughing at my expense. (Warning: a poop story is to follow. If you are not in the poop mood, you may consider redirecting your browser to a different venue of useless information about other people's lives. May I suggest facebook?)
So I was at the part about smelling something, and it was not the delicious chicken cooking in the crock pot. Silas must have either smelled it as well or didn't like what was happening in there because he was very whiny. Then he spit up on me. Thanks, dude. I brought the angry little man upstairs to change the underpants and was met with a slimy, sticky mess that was just the most delightful shade of green. yum. Mid-wiping the excess of this small gift off of his little toosh, he screams and then begins to pee. Now, if you've ever changed a little boy, you know that this means a golden fountain suddenly springs into the air. I didn't want it to get on the floor, his face, etc., so I had to redirect it, if you will. The joys of mommyhood. And let me tell you, this was no small fountain. Buckingham Fountain would have been impressed. It lasted a good 15 seconds and produced a small lake on the changing table, with Silas all but floating in it. But now the screaming stopped and he was smiling. Perhaps he was just craving a nice warm shower...or thought I needed one?
Here's where a good mom might start running the water for a bath. I undressed him, but opted for wiping him down with wipes. Those are sanitizing, right?
After his wipe-bath we went back and forth several times about whether he should nap. He falls asleep in my arms. I put him in his bed. He knocks he pacifier out of his mouth. He cries, angry at whoever would dare to take his pacifier away. I pick him up and rock him to sleep. and repeat.
Finally, I wised up and brought him down to his swing. He falls asleep sans-pacifier and mom tiptoes away, patting myself on the back. Oh, Monday...you shouldn't have.