That Baby
Well, I was informed twice in one afternoon that I apparently have a "difficult" baby.
The first time was when my mom and I were driving in circles around the neighborhood trying to lull a screaming baby to sleep (no such luck.) My neighbors flagged us down to see Anna, and I rolled the window down, mid-scream (Anna, not me.) They gushed about how adorable she is (she is pretty damn cute) and then the wife said, "Oh, our first granddaughter was colicky and difficult, too. We preferred to call her 'sensitive.' It gets better eventually." Thanks.
The second time was when my brother-in-law's sister came to visit (is that a sister-in-law-in-law?) She has a little 15 month old. She sympathized as I bounced a still screaming Anna around the house. "My son was difficult, too. He had bad food allergies and reflux. It gets better eventually." Thanks.
The thing is, I didn't know that I had a difficult baby. But this week it has been dawning on me that, perhaps, Anna is a tad difficult. Part of it is that my mom spent her spring break here. I've been watching her get more and more exhausted this week. I thought it was just me, because I've been getting one hour of sleep at a time, but I don't think so. Anna just isn't happy (except her bath...loves the bath) with the world. I try not to blame myself, but sometimes it's hard.
I told my brother-in-law's mother (mother-in-law-in-law?), "Well, God certainly has a sense of humor. I read tons of baby books and breastfeeding books before I had her, and I had decided what kind of baby I was going to have...a quiet, cooing, angelic baby."
"This," I said, "is not that baby."
"Well," she said, "God has to put those babies somewhere."
For some reason, I found her comment oddly reassuring.
The first time was when my mom and I were driving in circles around the neighborhood trying to lull a screaming baby to sleep (no such luck.) My neighbors flagged us down to see Anna, and I rolled the window down, mid-scream (Anna, not me.) They gushed about how adorable she is (she is pretty damn cute) and then the wife said, "Oh, our first granddaughter was colicky and difficult, too. We preferred to call her 'sensitive.' It gets better eventually." Thanks.
The second time was when my brother-in-law's sister came to visit (is that a sister-in-law-in-law?) She has a little 15 month old. She sympathized as I bounced a still screaming Anna around the house. "My son was difficult, too. He had bad food allergies and reflux. It gets better eventually." Thanks.
The thing is, I didn't know that I had a difficult baby. But this week it has been dawning on me that, perhaps, Anna is a tad difficult. Part of it is that my mom spent her spring break here. I've been watching her get more and more exhausted this week. I thought it was just me, because I've been getting one hour of sleep at a time, but I don't think so. Anna just isn't happy (except her bath...loves the bath) with the world. I try not to blame myself, but sometimes it's hard.
I told my brother-in-law's mother (mother-in-law-in-law?), "Well, God certainly has a sense of humor. I read tons of baby books and breastfeeding books before I had her, and I had decided what kind of baby I was going to have...a quiet, cooing, angelic baby."
"This," I said, "is not that baby."
"Well," she said, "God has to put those babies somewhere."
For some reason, I found her comment oddly reassuring.
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