Back Home Again in Indiana
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. I have no idea what that’s talking about since I never read A Tale of Two Cities (I prefer my Dickens in Muppet form), but I do know it’s the perfect way to describe life with a baby. And at 2 months in, the best of times are starting to seriously outweigh the worst of times.
The first month was ROUGH. On top of the sleep deprivation every new parent not making nanny money experiences, I was dealing with some postpartum depression and Boogs had some reflux happening. We got him on Zantac, me on happy pills, and now we’re all doing much better. Wrapping up breastfeeding also helped since that seemed to be my PPD trigger. And this is where I get on my soapbox for a hot minute.
I know the breastfeeding industry has a catchy little “breast is best” slogan, and I get why they say that. There are a boatload of benefits with breastfeeding. But sometimes it’s really not best. Like when it triggers PPD. Or when your kid is hungry all. the. time. Or when you feel like a slave. Or *insert endless reasons here*. You know what is best? Whatever’s best for you. Maybe it’s breastfeeding, maybe it’s formula, maybe it’s tacos in a blender. As long as everyone’s happy and healthy, you’re doing exactly what’s right for you and your tiny little human. And if anyone tries to tell you you’re wrong, tell them you’ve done your research and completely understand how growing up without blender tacos can make one a judgemental jackwagon and offer them a blender taco now to make up for it. Or you can just tell them to suck it. Your call.
This kid continues to be less and less of a tiny little nightmare (don’t worry – I’ve been assured he’ll revert as he nears age 3). He has real smiles now instead of just smiling because he’s pooping. It’s kind of the best seeing his huge smile when he sees me. Granted it’s probably just because he realizes I’m the keeper of the bottles, but I’ll take what I can get. I’ll also take his little coos all day err’ day.
Tummy time remains on the list of Activities We Do Not Enjoy. There’s much crying and thrashing. . .mostly from Boogs. We’re actually pretty bad about making him do it because with the reflux, he can’t do it right after he eats so by the time it’s safe and I remember, he’s passed out. I’m also aces at remembering to make him do it right before he eats, but then he gets extra mad about it because he’s hungry. He does, however, lift his head when you hold him which totally counts as tummy time. He may never learn how to roll over, but outside of going down hills, how often do you need that skill anyway?
This kid is going to look exactly like Jesse which is good because it means we won’t have to go on Maury. Or maybe that’s bad because it means we won’t have to go on Maury. Sidenote: Jesse’s convinced he has my eyes which is cool because if he looks like Jesse but has my eyes, he’s basically Harry Potter.
Gas and pooping remain real life struggles, but once he gets it out, there’s no doubt he got it out. These have been some of the most sick nasty diapers in human history. The trick is to make sure he got it all out before you go in or you’re blowing through 3 diapers and a changing pad before it’s all said and done.
Once we made the transition to formula, he started sleeping so much better. We were suddenly getting at least one 4 hour stretch every night, and if he’s feeling generous, he’ll gift us with a 5 hour stretch. I never thought I’d be so excited about sleeping for 4 straight hours, yet here I am.
Growth spurts are super good times. At least 2 solid days of constant crank (the disposition, not the drug). Growth spurts are also super weird. Want to see a kid literally grow overnight? Give him a growth spurt.
He remains in love with the ceiling fan, still finds flipping us off hilarious, and continues to prefer napping on us rather than in his crib. He sleeps like a champ in it at night though so I’m pretty sure the nap thing is what they call “daycare’s problem”. I wish them luck.