Mommin' It Up!

April 23, 2012April 21, 2012

Separation anxiety, and stuff.

bigsmile — Pick me up!! You can't resist this smile!

This is my darling baby guy. At 16 months he is walking all over the place, picking up speed.

He could pick up a lot more speed if he would freaking detach himself from my leg.

You guys. I am blowin’ town for four days, just ten days from now. For the past three weeks Jonah has been all over me like white on rice. He wants to nurse con.stant.ly. I exaggerate not at all. He’ll play for 10 or 15 minutes and come back for more. At his most content, he’ll just toddle over and rub his face all over whatever part of me he can reach before he returns to play.

It’s driving me cray-zee. I’m worried he’ll lose his mind while I’m gone. I’m worried I’ll lose mine before I go. I’m worried that I’ll worry about him the whole time I’m there.

I wish he would wean, but he wants to nurse now more than ever. Growth spurt? Developmental change? Secret plan to drive me to the brink of sanity as punishment for my plans to travel to sunny Miami without him?

I love my baby boy, so much. I love playing with him, I love snuggling with him, tickling him, singing our silly songs. I love love love him.

I do not love this stage he’s in.

I hope we both make it through the next couple of weeks.

February 3, 2012February 2, 2012

The Tiny Tyrant of 12:15

Look at this sweet little angel boy:

I think he is trying to kill me.

I don’t know why he would want to do such a thing, since clearly my continued presence on this earth is to his benefit, but the child will not sleep. As a matter of fact, for the past couple of weeks, he’s been waking up so very so sad at about midnight or 12:15…and then again sometime on or before 2:30, and then usually about 5.

I suppose since he is so young, he probably isn’t clued into the fact that I am a terrible sleeper and that his nocturnal nursing parties are keeeeeling me. But really.

I’mabboutadie.

Since he and Joshua share a room, we haven’t been able to Ferber him in awhile. Joshua bunked with Sophie for several months last year while we were trying it out, and I fear we’re going to have to put him back in her room again soon. But the Ferbering has never seemed to stick with Jonah. Blargh.

Well, Sophie started sleeping really well when she was about 15 months old…and Jonah is 13 months…so hopefully I’ve got at least eight weeks of fight left in me! Until then, there’s coffee and Mountain Dew, right?

And at least he’s a cute little killer!

But seriously I’M DYING HERE.

January 9, 2012January 8, 2012

Baby Mine

I am sitting on Joshua’s bed as Jonah lays across me, nursing ardently before bed. The room is dark, his blankie lays across his chest, and he is focused on the task at hand. I’ve got one arm under his shoulders, and one arm under his bum, and his long no-longer-a-baby-legs hang off my lap and dangle heavily in the space between the bed and the floor.

How did it come to pass that my baby no longer fits snugly in my arms? It seems like yesterday that his little body barely spanned the width of my chest when he curled against me to nurse.

Sleepily he reaches out with his left arm and grabs my hair, running his hand the length of it. He pushes my face to the side so he can get to my ear, makes a grab at my earring. Recreational activities, fighting sleep while he nurses. Funny baby, I am still his favorite toy. I am wearing my glasses tonight and he gets them about half off of my face before I can pry his fingers off of them. Giving up, he turns his attention to his own ear – like his older brother, he plays with it when he’s tired.

I kiss his face and stroke his hair, I kiss his little fingers and bury my lips in his chubby cheeks. I love my sweet baby boy so much it hurts. Just yesterday I was complaining as I was pumping out a bottle of milk so Bobby and I could go out, but I will be sad when he weans. He’s my last little nursey baby.

How did he get so big? He will be 13 months old this week. Soon he will be too busy to cuddle his mama, to play with my hair, to want to be mine and to want me to be his.

He unlatches himself and gives me a milky, sleepy smile. I squeeze him tight, kiss those pink cheeks again, and gently place him in his crib with his bevy of blankies. He rolls over, gripping one tightly.

Good night, baby mine. Try not to grow too much tonight while you sleep.