Sick Humor

Anyone who has ever tried to soothe a newborn to sleep will appreciate the humor  ( I say humor after the fact and in a most sarcastic tone) of my experience today.

First of all let me say that I have decided there is some type of button or switch in my rear end that connects to the baby's brain so that as soon as my butt hits the chair, couch, bed, etc. that he is stimulated to wake up and cry. It is inevitable and has become a running joke in our household that if it is time for the baby to wake for any reason, all I have to do is sit down. Anyway, I digress...

So, after the chaos that starts my day (Carter's deciding to start this morning with a primal scream at the top of lungs which led to the baby's crying is fodder for another post), I begin the routine of fixing the bottle, changing the baby's diaper, feeding, burping, etc. But, it has also become a running joke that I have bad baby karma right now. We have several hurdles with this beautiful boy that makes it a long, sometimes tedious process to feed him and get him to sleep. Recently I have noticed in my routine that we have now added hiccups, repeated poop sessions, and clothing changes. It's getting old.

This morning was no different. I fixed the bottle, changed his diaper, sit down and begin feeding and he started pooping. I got up and changed his diaper again. I walked out of his room and what did he do? Yep....pooped again, then smiled. Ahhh yes, just what I hoped for.

After his third changing, I sat back down and finished feeding him. As I finished burping him (for the fourth time) he got the hiccups which led to his immediate throwing up which led to changing him again. We are now looking into buying stock in Pampers and Johnson & Johnson. At this point he was so sleepy he was screaming so I began walking and singing songs to him. I rocked him, walked outside, gave him gas drops, etc for the next 90 minutes!!!! Finally, I got him into a deep sleep. I carried him in and laid him so carefully into his crib if he'd been a bomb he wouldn't have exploded.

I was so proud of my accomplishment I began to prematurely celebrate with a tiny little dance of joy. However, in my stupid, short-sighted celebration (dumb a$$), I accidentally kicked the end of his bed. Swear. If I hadn't been afraid of how badly it would've hurt, I would have punched myself in the face. So, I picked him up, carried him into the living room and sat down to start over again. Of course, if it wasn't for all of that I wouldn't have gotten my blog post done for the day, so maybe it worked out in my favor after all. Right.