Ryan has always thought that Lilly was capable of speaking English. He explains in elaborate detail why she can't go places with us, why she is in trouble etc. The other night I was sitting in bed when he came in with a sad look on his face
"Its official, Lilly can't speak English"
"How do you know?"
"Because I just held open the cat food container and told her she had 20 seconds to eat all she wanted and she just looked at me."
I gave up all dairy a few weeks ago in hopes it would help Caches' tummy troubles and now I am also soy free and am supposed to chew 3 soaked prunes 50 times each each morning when I rise. I don't know if it is working or if he is just getting older and thus less crabby, but he seems to be doing a little better.
We still have a ways to go, but we've come a long way. Now, if I could only get him to sleep in his bassinet for longer than 30 minutes at a time I might not look like a zombie.
Don't you just love when I blog about belly buttons?! Good, cause here goes another one. You will recall that Caches had a minor umbilical hernia that was supposed to clear up on its own and not cause me to hold back vomit with each diaper change. Well, surprise, surprise, it didn't. It started oozing instead...yummy.
So at his 2 month Dr. appointment the doctor performed a procedure that brought on EPIC tears of hysteria but was supposedly painless. Dramatic baby or lying Dr.? Probably a bit of both, but I digress. He swirled a bunch of silver nitrate around the small hernia which in turn cauterized it and caused it to look like this...
By the way, this picture does not do the black tar belly button justice.
Anyway, the next morning I'm changing his diaper and notice a black chunk in there. In my sleep deprived state I panic that it is a smashed spider or a hard nugget of poop or who the hell knows what else. So what do I do? I pick it up of course. And before I can tell myself what a bad idea that is, I realize that it is the shriveled up, blackened piece of belly button overgrowth!! Oh my god it was worse than when I had to cut off the umbilical cord with cuticle scissors.
I am happy to report that now, after almost 9 weeks of life, he FINALLY has a cute baby bell button.
Caches, please let this be the last of our belly button drama. Mama can't take anymore!
Last week Caches has craniosacral therapy to help with is colic/general misery. If you are not familiar with this type of therapy they explain it far better than I ever could. He had two minor adjustments and although it could be a coincidence, I honestly think I notice a difference.
She adjusted his neck after asking if he favored turning his head to one side and that same day he fell asleep for the first time that I can remember with his head turned the opposite direction. He also had a bit more happy awake time that day and flashed a few more smiles.
I am optimistic that this type of therapy helps infants particularly because there can be no placebo effect. They can't fake it! He is going to receive at least one more treatment and I am hoping for the best.
I do apologize about the lack of posts lately, but it is hard to write while bouncing a baby on an exercise ball or one handed when he finally gives into sleep.
Today Caches is 9 weeks old which means that he has approximately 3 weeks to get his shit together or pack his bags. All the books and all the moms say that it gets better by 12 weeks and I am literally counting down the days.
In all fairness he has gotten better and is having a little more happy awake time, but I am still waiting for him to just relax and feel some peace. There is nothing more heart wrenching that listening to your sweet baby scream and know that there is NOTHING you can do to make it better.
I bounce, swaddle, pacifier, no pacifier, check the diaper, give a bath, sway, jiggle, nurse, stand on my damn head if I could and the screaming continues. It is kind of like being pecked to death by a chicken. One little peck, like a little bit of crying, is no big deal, a mild annoyance. But if the chicken just keeps pecking and pecking and pecking pretty soon you are like what the fuck chicken!! YOU ARE GOING TO KILL ME!
I can literally feel a piece of my heart shriveling up and DYING and the little chicken gobbles it up. Of course all the broken pieces are mended when he flashes me a toothless grin or makes eye contact for even just a moment. So I'll continue to hold him all night long, shhhhh in his ear, pat his fluffy bottom, go pee with him balanced in one arm and lose countless hours of sleep because some day my little chicken will be all grown up and as crazy as it seems to say this now, I'm pretty sure I'm going to miss it.
And since I'm feeling nostalgic. Here is a picture from 9 weeks ago