 |
Pony: sweet and sour
5.3.2007
Wednesday aft. I go to a mom's group at the local yoga place. We go around a circle and give the "sweet and sour" report. Something difficult, something good.
Here is mine:
Gabriel is 3 months old. He is rolling over and sucking his two middle fingers just like his auntie lisa used to. He smiles and wrinkles his nose. He vocalizes beautiful sounds and seems to be taking in the whole world with an air of a bemused old soul. He sometimes stops nusing to look up at me and smile. I can't believe he is only 3 months old. That 3 months ago he was kicking up a storm in my belly.
And Kiff has been so wonderfully patient with him. He sings hiim songs, plays games, and never flinches, even when G poos on his leg in the bath. I promised i wouldn't blog about that. oops.
Time is so full, partly because we are living all the days AND the nights.
Kiff came home the other day and I was crying a bit. I am so so tired of being tired. I am tired of not having time to read. I am tired of feeling so out of it.
We are doing a bedtime routine with G. now: bath, book, boob/bottle, bed. And bed is his crib. I want our bedroom back. We all need to sleep. So we are trying the "cry it out" method, sitting with him while he cries, occasionally picking him up to calm him, until he falls asleep. Lather, rinse, repeat. Last night was the second try of this, and it is getting a bit better. He still wakes up every 2-3 hours, but he cries much less those times.
Last week at the Dufferin Mall's family washroom/nursing station, I gave my seat to a woman who was also there to nurse her baby. I accidentally left my purse behind, went to line up to buy a juice, and by then the woman I gave my seat to had stolen my purse (according to the mother in the seat beside her). And while there was nothing hugely expensive in it, I keep thinking of all the things I need to replace and the ones I can't. Kind of crappy, eh?
But the difference now is that my first feeling was relief that nothing had happened to G. I know that doesn't make sense, but who cares about all that stuff, really? As long as everyone I love is ok, I don't care. How Mom-ish.
