J finally fell asleep at around 2 a.m. Woke up through the night and woke us up into the bargain. Numerous changes and feeds later...
J woke up at his usual time, looking for another change and feed. I changed and fed him, hoping he would go back down afterwards. After all, I reasoned, we had the same kind of night; he must be just as tired as I am.
Finished feeding him. Held him up for burping. Heard him poop. And at the same time, he threw up (not spit up, but throw up) all over the bed!
Stripped the sheets, changed the baby, put him back in his crib, changed my clothes, washed the sheets. Came back upstairs. Heard J start to cry. Went to check on him.
He had been playing (not sleeping) and had once again handcuffed himself together with his plastic rings.
Picked him up, got him unstuck. He spit up on me, then pooped again. I changed him again. Didn't even bother with myself this time; what's the point?
He now sits in my lap, chewing his fingers and telling me all about his night. I know about his night; I was there. But I love him, so will let him tell me again in his own words. Soon, he will drift off, cuddling in my arms, and I'll hopefully be able to put him down and get some work done. No more time for sleep today, I'm afraid.
Must do housework this morning; people are coming over. Must start Module 5 of course today. Must beat senseless the smugly self-satisfied, childless (I know because of earlier intros), prissy little classmate who went online to the Student Lounge last night to place a comment into one of the threads from all the moms struggling with the course, to inform us of how brilliant she is. Her post even came complete with the smug smiley face.
I genuflect in her general direction.
Mental note: when successful, be proud of yourself, but don't rub it in. I feel somewhat pleased by the fact that she made 11 spelling and grammatical errors in her two sentence post.
1 comment:
Dear God. Have you ever thought of just putting Jared in a bucket? Or leaving him in the tub so you can just spray him down when he barfs every fifteen minutes? Sure would save on the laundry time...
And yeah, beat that girl with a stick. I mean, I don't have kids, but I've had classmates with small ones or even newborns, and I wouldn't *dream* of crowing like that. I assume she works, but even full-time work is nothing compared to a wee one. Sheesh.
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