A Little Perspective ** Updated

Thank you, thank you for all of your encouragement. I knew that if I surrounded myself with positive comments, then pretty soon I would be thinking positively myself.

This past week just seemed to hold a lot of non-supportive or unhelpful comments from the universe. Granted, many of these comments came from people I don't know very well (or from people I don't know at all), but when you are tired and vulnerable, those things seem to stick with you a little longer. I started to doubt myself, and worse, I started to doubt the kids.

Aimee's takeaway lesson from this week?: If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. (Thumper's Dad had it right, my friends.)

Also, thanks for all of the great suggestions, from swaddling to white noise. We do swaddle Bun quite a bit because he seems to enjoy that "close" feeling, but what he enjoys even more is when I hold him. All day long. And all night long.

Rob and I believe it's because Bun was not snuggled at all in the beginning. Maybe we sound like kooks, but you always read how important physical closeness is for babies, and Bun just didn't get it. I held him for five minutes after he was born and Rob didn't get his hands on him for a week. Granted, a week is not very long in the grand scheme of life, but who knows? (or maybe he's just figured out how to play us already)

I think white noise might help us out as well. Bun has always quieted down at the sound of the vacuum or the hairdryer, and when he sleeps, he sleeps better with the TV or radio on at a very low volume in the background.

We were pretty happy to discover that our alarm clock makes some nature sounds/white noise, so I tried that with him today. My friends, he slept for an hour and a half! I swear the heavens parted and I heard angels singing, because I managed to get a shower, get dressed, clean the downstairs bathroom, empty the dishwasher, load the dishwasher, throw in some laundry, and drink a cup of coffee. And I did all of that with two hands!

I set the alarm clock to play the Mountain Stream sounds, since I started out with the Ocean Surf sounds and it scared me and made me jump. Sounds weird, I know, but there's some kind of distortion problem with the Ocean Surf because it sounds more like a killer rogue wave. Since I don't want to give the poor kid any kind of Poseidon complex, I'll just stick with the Mountain Stream.

And now that I've bored you to tears, I'll leave you to start your weekend -- have a lovely one!

Someone out there needs to tell me that a cranky, sleep resistant baby will eventually turn into a child of superior intellect with a winning personality. Who also finds the cure for cancer.

Seriously, someone needs to tell me that right. now.

Regale me with your stories of sleepless nights that have passed; of fussy babies who have become fun children; of settling down at night without having a baby draped on your chest.

Of course, I have my own stories like this - especially about Francie, the Girl Who Sleeps With Her Eyes Open - but I am in the thick of all the sleeplessness and I am feeling foggy. I am a little too "forest for the trees" right now.

It's been a long day, and Bun, for some reason that I cannot discover, has been fussy for about 20 of the last 24 hours. The Pennsylvania Dutch have a word for this: "grex" or "grexy." This is a great word because it sounds just like Bun's grunty complaints. Not screaming, not inconsolable, just cranky. The truth is, he is very consolable as long as he is on me. The sling has been great, but even that is starting to wear on me (ha! I can still make a pun.)

But here's the tricky thing about the mother's mind: it doesn't take very long for these very days to become the fuzzy memories once the baby grows and gets in sync with the normal household rhythms. He will become a kid who puts himself to bed, and the physical burden will ease, and still I will be caught red-handed missing the baby he was.

So I know that all I need right now is a little change of perspective, a mental pick-me-up, and I'm asking you to throw me a bone, my friends. Just remind me that this too shall pass.

(And if it hasn't passed for you yet -- don't remind me!)