Sorry for the not posting since last week. It's the end of the semester already, and apparently they make you take classes in grad school, like with exams and everything. Oh yeah, and there is a cute little three-week-old bundle of humanity kicking around. Can't forget about that angle...
So much has happened since I last posted, but I'm doing my best to avoid a "here's a boring minute-by-minute account of my baby's life" approach to blogging. I finally understand how easy a trap that is to fall into. There is nothing I love more than talking about the cute little shift of the eyebrows he just did, or that he just discovered himself in the mirror. I just need to tell myself that d.w. and I are the only ones who would possibly care about such trivialities, and we're already down in the orchestra pit for the performance. Then again, it has been fully a third of Chins' life since I was last around these parts, so surely a teeny tiny little mention of baby-related minutiae is acceptable.
Anyway.
Way back when, a million years ago, you know, right after Chins was born three weeks ago, I was totally on top of everything. I was up when he needed a diaper changed. I was already swaddling when I saw the slightest curling of his lip. A change of clothes? No prob. He was swimming in everything, and slept through it anyway.
Then I let my guard down, and it has come back to bite me bitterly in the ass.
Right after he was born he slept all the time. I could safely wail away with a hammer drill in the next room without the slightest worry of waking a fussy baby. He was easily passed among eagerly waiting family members without stirring. I kind of got used to how easy it was.
Now? Not so much. He spends a good couple of hours every day fussing. Not crying, really. Just your general bitching and moaning, baby-style. Though it's kind of the elephant in the room, I'm not even going to speculate on C-O-L-I-C because I can't find any wood to knock on right now. And this is still the easy period of babyhood. I fear the trajectory this kid seems to be on. Don't get me wrong, he's a great little guy. Very mellow as babies go, from what I hear. But still. I'm a little scared right now.
It would be fine if his fussiness made sense. You know, if he were lying in a cardboard box in the rain and being pecked at by ravenous sparrows or something. But nothing is wrong. Nothing. He has everything he needs: a boob and a blanket. And a really cute pair of socks shaped like little frog feet.
He's just not being very rational about this whole situation. If he could only calmly sit down (or, being three weeks old, lie on his back while flailing his arms like an overturned turtle) and think through what's going wrong, we might all be spared a little stress and commotion.
But then, I suppose it's just the fact that he's kind of new and just getting used to, you know, existence and stuff.
But I still think he's being impulsive and irrational about all of this.
