Here we go again

Here we go again. We're going to try sleep training.

I know this is going to be hard and probably as much fun as pulling teeth.

But it has to happen.

Connor has not been sleeping while he's in the bed with us. He's been up and about, hitting, pulling hair, screaming and everything in between. Something has to give, so we put the crib up again tonight.

The look on his face when he saw the crib go up was that of pure dismay. He looked like a man betrayed. It was sad and hilarious.

I did the bath thing and I read to him before I put him in the crib. I let him play for a bit while I sat on my bed (his crib is right next to our bed), and now I am sitting in the dark listening to lullabies while he stands up in his crib totally pissed off.

I have read and read and reread articles on the internet about sleep training and none of them sound particularly appealing. Like I don't want him to just scream and have psychological problems and trust issues, because he's probably going to have those regardless. But I don't want to sit here in the dark either. I really just want him to chill out while I go eat ice cream.

I just don't see this going well at all.

The song "Here I Go Again" by Whitesnake keeps playing in my head.

He's screaming while I'm in here so what's he going to do when I leave? He's definitely not going to just lay down. I am never going to make it through this.

I am inserting my head through the dry wall right now. That's happening.

Oh, yes, how could I forget? Apollo will also begin sleeping in his crate now. I am so tired of my rug smelling like pee. Seriously, we have ceramic tile all over this apartment and you have to piss on the one square of carpet? Thanks, Apollo.

So he will start sleeping in his crate, Connor in his bed, and Josh and I will have the bed to ourselves. I can't even imagine the luxury that's sure to accompany this. I will be able to sleep in more than just one position. I will have covers. I will not be on the edge of the bed. I can sleep without my shirt up to my chin!

Is Connor sucking his thumb right now? He hasn't done that in at least a month. I've made him regress to sucking his thumb again.

I have got to be the worst mother in the world.

4 Reasons Why My Head is POUNDING...and then some

As I sit here with a miserable headache, I am thinking about all of the things that caused it.

Shall I go through the list?

Yes, yes I shall.

1) Connor's constant, nonstop fussing.
Apparently this is totally normal for his age and it will be over soon, just like the colic. Which then leads me to feel guilty because I was so stressed out and sleep deprived when he had colic that I didn't appreciate how sweet and precious he was. In a few months when he's running around, or in a few years when I'm not his favorite anymore, I'm going to look back on this night and cry. Then I'll get another headache.

2) The lack of money in our bank account.
"It's tha first of tha month," as my homies Bone, Thugs and Harmony would say, which means bills are due. Bills that require money to pay, which we don't have. Yes, yes, I know it's my fault. I should have never quit work. But the thing is, even had I not quit, then by the time we paid for daycare, we would still have zero money.
Why not get another job, Lauren?
Well that's just the million dollar question, now isn't it.
The answer is pretty simple actually: Unless I'm making enough to pay for daycare and still make a profit, then I am paying for time away from my son, and despite my pounding head, I don't want that.

3) "Et tu Brute?"
For those of you who aren't familiar with "Othello," this is what Caesar asks his best friend Brutus when Brutus stabs him in the back (literally). I'm not saying this to my best friend though. I'm saying this to my body. Two weeks ago, it betrayed me by forcing it's biological cycle onto my uterus. And today again. Two freaking weeks apart. Two weeks. 14 days. I can't catch a break here.

4) Lack of chocolate.
I just want some damn chocolate! I get some, and then it's gone. By me, of course. But then I want more. OK, I have a problem. Like, I snuck out last night after everyone was in bed and got some miniature peppermint patties. Ugh, is that rock bottom?

I think that's about it. Those four things. Really just one and two.
He is in his bed, screaming right now actually. I'm terrible for letting him scream, but I'm even more terrible because he knows I'm going to come in there and get him. He knows I'm going to cave because I always do.

Like how am I supposed to do this?

Yesterday, he refused to eat his baby food so I told him that I was going to sit there in front of him all day until he ate.
He just looked at me, straight face, leaned forward in his seat like, "Your move, Mommy."
So I leaned forward in my seat and propped my head on my hands and stared right back.
Then he leans in and kisses me!

Why would he do that?!
Why would he lean forward and kiss me with those carrot-covered lips, and totally melt my heart?

Because as soon as he did it, I let him out of his seat.

I'm such a pushover.

What if I'm a pushover when he gets older and I let him smoke meth or rob banks?
"Oh it's OK baby. Mommy knows you didn't mean to."

OH MY GOODNESS!
MY SON IS GOING TO BE A FELON!

And now, as I take a deep breath, my head throbs a little more and gives me a whole new set of things that haven't happened yet to worry about.

If you need me, I will be curled up in a ball, in a corner. A soundproof corner. With leaky boobs.

Goodnight all.

Is it guilty in here or is it just me?

I read a blog post today on "mommy guilt" and it rang so true to me. As I type this, C is laying in his crib screaming because he's pissed off. We do this every night, and every night he sleeps about an hour before I cave and just stick him in the bed with us.

The thing is, I know there's nothing wrong with him even though he's screaming bloody murder, but I still have this gnawing feeling that I'm a horrible mother.

This isn't the first time I've felt that way...today.

For instance, our day started off like normal. I went outside to take Apollo out and raised the blinds on the door so I could see in. Connor was sitting by the door looking out at me and laughing, playing with his toys, etc.

Then he was gone.

But I still saw him.

Over by the dog bowl.

The kid knows not to eat dog food, but he still does. So I got in the house just in time to see a piece laying on the floor beside him while he chewed vigorously on a chicken-based pellet meant for my canine. I shoved my finger in his mouth and felt the about-to-be-soggy morsel, and I tried to dig it out. The thing is, he kept moving his tongue around and chewing on my finger.

So then I was like, "Well this is great. I don't want him to choke on it."

Thank goodness I was on the phone with my mother through this whole ordeal, otherwise I would have been freaking out. Because just as I thought, he started choking.

It was pretty standard. He first made a gagging sound, then he coughed, then gagged, coughed and stuck his thumb in his mouth until everything was right with the world again.

Here was my reaction. Gag (me pushing on the part between his rib cage, trying to remember anything about the baby Heimlich Remover). Cough (OK I know if he's coughing, he's breathing. Don't pat his back, that might lodge it further). Gag (Oh shit, the kid is choking. *Mother in the background- "Hold his arm up!"*). Cough (He's breathing. Still pushing on his stomach with one hand, holding an arm up with the other). Thumb in mouth (Put my ear as close to his face as possible until I hear a steady breath).

I feel like I handled it well.

Then at my mother's later on, he wanted to play. But I didn't. I wanted to take a nap.

Guilty moment #2.

Annnd here we are, it's bed time and he's stopped screaming temporarily. It's because I sent my husband in to rock him. I know that when he gets back in his bed, the screaming will continue. I know that I will end up putting him in bed with me.

What is this vicious cycle?

For now though, this minute, it's quiet time and I plan on enjoying it to the fullest.

Just a typical Wednesday

The challenges I've faced since becoming a mother are endless, just in my eight and a half months experience.

For example, before I was a mother, I had never peed or pooped while holding another human being in my lap.

I've never had to lift 20 pounds with one arm.

And I've certainly never had to say, "Please get out from under the recliner."

But this morning was a doozy.

Last night we tried to get C to sleep in his crib so we could have some mommy/daddy time. After screaming for an hour and throwing up twice, C finally realized that we were still in the house and he was still going to sleep in his crib (so we thought). After about two hours of being in his crib, I finally just put him in the bed with us again. I mean he slept for two hours, waking up once each hour, so I gave him some credit and thought a little progress was better than no progress.

But this morning we woke up much earlier than we normally do, and it was because one of us was a little bit poopy. Thankfully, this time, it was not me. I got up to pee and while I was in the bathroom I hear this screaming. So of course I just thought he was mad that I left him in the bed by himself.

Oh no.

It was much worse than that.

I walk out of the bathroom and ask him what in the world was wrong with him, and I see two legs (and eight rolls) flailing in the air. What I didn't see what my son's torso or his face.

Fantastic.

I did what any caring mother would do. I stood there with my hand on my hip and asked my eight-month-old, "What are you doing?"

Apollo, the dog, was lying contently under the covers as well trying to ignore the noise that was interrupting his slumber. He still has not figured out why we won't take the thing back where we got it. He also has been exhibiting suicidal behavior so we have to watch him closely.

After getting my fill of entertainment for the morning, I pulled the covers off of my son's head and got the giant turd out of his diaper.

Needless to say he felt like a new man, ready to suck a tit and watch the Today show.

The two types of mothers

I have come to the conclusion that there are two types of mothers:
1) The kind who wonders when it's OK to give their child Benedryl
2) The kind who lies when she says she doesn't think about giving her child Benedryl.

This thing called parenthood is hard. It's even harder when the child (like mine) thinks sleep is for the weak.

You hear people tell you, "Sleep when your baby sleeps" as if that's going to solve all your problems. If you're like me, our invisible maid is really slacking on her job. The dishes are still in the sink, the laundry is still dirty, the house is still a mess and dinner is still frozen.

Then if you're really like me, your school work has taken a big step to the back burner. This adventure to the back burner wouldn't be such a big deal if it wasn't my LAST SEMESTER.

With all that being said, it's no surprise I am the type 1 mother. I'll admit, shamefully, that I get upset with my son at night when he doesn't want to sleep. It makes me mad. I just want to get warm and get some sleep. Why doesn't he understand?!

Because he's five-months old, that's why. He doesn't do it to hurt me, in fact I think that's the last thing he wants. I feel like he loves me so much that he just wants to be with me (even if this is only to make me feel somewhat better). It's these times that I regret breastfeeding.

If I had never breastfed, he would never be so attached to me. He would be more independent. He wouldn't want me so much.

But then those are exactly the reasons I love breastfeeding. I love that he knows me. I love that he wants me. I love that HE LOVES ME.

I don't think the lack of sleep has anything to do with me breastfeeding. Even when he's in the bed with my husband and I, he still wakes up. Sure, I could give him supplements and make him sleep longer, but I enjoy giving him strictly breast milk.

I enjoy the closeness we have together. It's not that I get angry at night because I have to get up. I get angry at night because I have to get up every hour (so it feels).

I don't know what the point of this post is, other than that parenthood is hard. As if we didn't know, right?

Maybe this is just my way of asking you guys to try not to be so harsh on other parents. The things we criticize each other for are things that we've all probably at least considered in our lives.

We've all thought about Benedryl. We've all thought about formula. We've all thought about early weaning. We've all wondered just how much it would screw our child up if we just let them cry because we can't take it anymore. All of these things and more.

So. Stop being so judgmental. Stop being so mean. You're not the baby guru, and if you are, it's because you don't have a baby.

To all my breastfeeding ladies: Don't give up.

Sleep it off

I haven't posted in a few weeks because we have been in the middle of moving. We stayed at my daddy's house for about three weeks and during that time, we let C sleep with us. Doesn't sound like a big deal, right? Well it is.

My husband and I decided that we wanted our bed back, but that was kind of hard since we were sharing it with both C and our dog, Apollo. There was no more snuggling for Mommy and Daddy.

Don't get me wrong, I loved snuggling next to my Sweet C. Plus, feeding was SO much easier. All I had to do was flop my boob out, turn over, and C ate while I slept. It was a magical thing. Really.

We tried putting him in his crib, but that didn't work. It didn't matter if C was asleep when we put him in there, the second he felt himself on the mattress, he woke up. So when we went for his four-month check-up, I asked the doctor what we could do, and if co-sleeping was as bad as I had heard.

The doctor told us that the majority of babies he had seen from SIDS were co-sleepers. So that scared me to death. He told us to do the "cry it out" method where we would check on C every 10 minutes until he realized that we were still there with him. It was hard. It took a few nights, but eventually C got it. He now sleeps in his crib (yayyy!!!).

As grateful as I am that we have returned to normalcy, I am still unsatisfied. C still wakes up anywhere from two to four hours to eat. This means that rather than pop a boob in his mouth, I have to physically get out of bed, put my feet on the cold tile, and walk into his room. Then I have to get him out of his crib, walk over to the rocking chair, and feed him. When he's done eating, I have to get back up, walk to his bed, put him in the bed, and walk back to my bedroom. THEN I have to fight not only my dog, but my husband as well, to get the covers back and get into a comfortable position to go back to sleep, only to get back up and do it all over again in a matter of short hours.

It's a workout.

Before we all judge the ped, he did tell me that based on C's growth, I should EXCLUSIVELY BREASTFEED for at least two more months.

This was a relief to me since I had been hearing from different people that C may need to go on cereal, formula, or even solids. I'm not ready for that. I enjoy our feeding time, even when I'm a zombie.

During this moving thing, my supply had dipped in a bad way. Stress combined with Dr. Pepper and coffee, combined with everything else going on in my life, my body just had too much going on. I started taking Fenugreek, two capsules, three times a day, and upped my water intake. It helped. I realized I had quit taking my prenatals too, so when I started that back, it really helped.

Now my supply is back to where it needs to be.

SO. My point of this post is the same as all the other posts: Don't give up.

Life has a way of throwing everything at you at once, and that can affect you mentally and physically. But breastfeeding is one thing that you're doing right for yourself and your baby, so while you may be giving up on other things, don't let this be one of them. It's hard, I know, but you can do it.

I'm not going to tell you to get rest and drink water, because sometimes you can't rest and you just want a damn Dr. Pepper. But I will tell you to keep feeding, keep pumping, and keep reminding yourself that you're doing the right thing.

Another word of advice: If your ped is not supporting you in breastfeeding, FIND ANOTHER ONE. If C's doctor hadn't been so supportive, it would have been much easier for me to quit. As mothers we trust our children's doctors, so it's imperative that they support us.

Conclusion: Don't give up. Drink the soda. Enjoy the milky way life.