"Mama, he's very happy in his mind, and he smiles a lot so we can know it."
"We can't get married now because I'm a girl and he's a baby boy. When we're both grownups, then we can get married like you and Daddy."
"Watch out, Daddy. He might pee on you!"
"Did you hear that, Mama? He's trying to say my name!"
"Mom! He spit up in my bed. Eeeew! He spit up again and it's on me! Here! Take him, take him. Get him out of here!"
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
Showing posts with label new baby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label new baby. Show all posts
May 22, 2009
April 19, 2009
The War on Colic
Usually when people talk about colic they recount the agonizing crying, screaming, and bone-numbing feeling of helplessness. And sure, all of that is ab-so-lutely humbling and psychosis-inducing.
But I think the worst thing about colic is finding a cure. Yeah, because once you find something that works, you think it will work again. Parents of colicky infants think that if they exactly replicate the conditions that quieted the kid once, it will quiet them again, so we tweak (everything!) in micro-intervals - our arm position, respiratory rate, pace and direction of motion, vocal timbre, ambient sound - in pursuit of impeccable re-creation. We re-trace our steps, we repeat our words, we eat the same food... anything we can think of to re-create the experience during which our screaming kid last surrendered to sleep.
Ha! Joke's on us!
Colic is a science fiction nightmare. It's like one of those super-creatures that constantly morphs to survive, sucking energy from every opponent and growing smarter and more powerful with every threat.
Colic is crafty. It knows when to lay dormant (in the doting public eye, when Grandparents are visiting, at the pediatrician's office), hiding masterfully behind the innocent "Who? Me?" eyes of its host, and when to roar back into action, cruelly crushing the desperate hope of those who would dare whisper "I think we did it!"
In truth, there is no cure for colic. Colic never goes away, it just moves on. It invades another host - younger, fresher... maybe yours. Maybe yours...
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
But I think the worst thing about colic is finding a cure. Yeah, because once you find something that works, you think it will work again. Parents of colicky infants think that if they exactly replicate the conditions that quieted the kid once, it will quiet them again, so we tweak (everything!) in micro-intervals - our arm position, respiratory rate, pace and direction of motion, vocal timbre, ambient sound - in pursuit of impeccable re-creation. We re-trace our steps, we repeat our words, we eat the same food... anything we can think of to re-create the experience during which our screaming kid last surrendered to sleep.
Ha! Joke's on us!
Colic is a science fiction nightmare. It's like one of those super-creatures that constantly morphs to survive, sucking energy from every opponent and growing smarter and more powerful with every threat.
Colic is crafty. It knows when to lay dormant (in the doting public eye, when Grandparents are visiting, at the pediatrician's office), hiding masterfully behind the innocent "Who? Me?" eyes of its host, and when to roar back into action, cruelly crushing the desperate hope of those who would dare whisper "I think we did it!"
In truth, there is no cure for colic. Colic never goes away, it just moves on. It invades another host - younger, fresher... maybe yours. Maybe yours...
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
March 25, 2009
The Things I Had Forgotten
Oh, the things I had forgotten between Baby #1 and Baby #2.
Dress in layers. That way you can simply peel clothes off layer by layer as the baby spits up on them throughout the course of the day. Jacket, sweater, shirt, camisole... if you get that far before you're ready to head home, you'll just have to turn your clothes inside out and start again.
No matter how much the baby sleeps at night, you will sleep less. Because after the baby slips into a nice, cozy "milk drunk", you lie awake listening for the baby's breathing, or waiting for one of those delightful middle-of-the night toxic diapers, or wondering if the "Vaccines Cause Autism" people are right, or trying to calculate how much a college education will cost 18 years from now, or trying to remember where you stashed the last Cadbury chocolate almond bar.
The 20-minute rule. That is, add 20 minutes to everything you need to do. For example, start to leave the house 20 minutes before you actually need to, because on your way out the door you'll remember that you took the car seat out to clean it, and you never put it back in. You'll need every one of those 20 minutes to wrestle the thing back in and hook all of the hooks to the right hook holders.
Frog Bodies. I forgot how difficult it is to dress or diaper a human frog with legs that never straighten out.
How much there is to say about nothing.
Diapers. Bottles. Stain removal. (Someone, please, get me a Wall Street Journal!)
The wonder. I hadn't forgotten it, but the memory had softened. There's nothing like the smell of fresh baby to reframe the day.
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
Dress in layers. That way you can simply peel clothes off layer by layer as the baby spits up on them throughout the course of the day. Jacket, sweater, shirt, camisole... if you get that far before you're ready to head home, you'll just have to turn your clothes inside out and start again.
No matter how much the baby sleeps at night, you will sleep less. Because after the baby slips into a nice, cozy "milk drunk", you lie awake listening for the baby's breathing, or waiting for one of those delightful middle-of-the night toxic diapers, or wondering if the "Vaccines Cause Autism" people are right, or trying to calculate how much a college education will cost 18 years from now, or trying to remember where you stashed the last Cadbury chocolate almond bar.
The 20-minute rule. That is, add 20 minutes to everything you need to do. For example, start to leave the house 20 minutes before you actually need to, because on your way out the door you'll remember that you took the car seat out to clean it, and you never put it back in. You'll need every one of those 20 minutes to wrestle the thing back in and hook all of the hooks to the right hook holders.
Frog Bodies. I forgot how difficult it is to dress or diaper a human frog with legs that never straighten out.
How much there is to say about nothing.
Diapers. Bottles. Stain removal. (Someone, please, get me a Wall Street Journal!)
The wonder. I hadn't forgotten it, but the memory had softened. There's nothing like the smell of fresh baby to reframe the day.
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
March 20, 2009
Our Triangle Becomes A Square
I've got a good excuse for not posting last week. In fact, I'm holding the excuse right now.
Little Mister was born last week and we're all happy, tired, and incredibly grateful for our fourth corner.
Enjoy your blessings, whatever shape your family is in.
Sally
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
Little Mister was born last week and we're all happy, tired, and incredibly grateful for our fourth corner.
Enjoy your blessings, whatever shape your family is in.
Sally
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
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