Thursday, May 16, 2013
"Let me clear my throat...ah huh ah huh"
DJ Kool, Bo-yeez!
Um, can we say 1996 classic?
Um, can we say that I shudder using '96 and "classic" in a sentence together?
Um, can we say that I bet your bottom dollar that there are girls born in 1996 who are having babies along side me?
[insert wrinkle reducers and gray hair over here]
Ahem. Let me clear my throat.
I sing this classic diddy most nights when I hear Super Baby two point O (Miles's moniker for August) grunt and hiss and gurgle and speak in tongues. Boy is NOISY! It doesn't bother me in the sense that I panic he is dying from over active gurgle disorder, but it bothers me in that all I can think is, "CLEAR YOUR THROAT, CHILD! you canNOT be getting a good night sleep!" And he's not; my pretty good sleeping baby hit 4-5 weeks and is up every.blessed.1-2 hours. I am just not used to this throat clearing. I keep thinking, "but I don't have babies who grunt at night!"
Huh. Fancy that...these kids, albeit all penised (I created that verb to mean "all boys") and bred from the same genetic stock, are INDIVIDUALS!
It makes motherhood both unpredictably fun, and unpredictably annoying. (ie, you mean [insert technique] doesn't work for this baby?)
Gus is, physically, a great mix of his two brothers. At this point, he is a Felix doppelganger when asleep, and a Miles doppelganger when awake. And all of my boys have amazing hair (well, and cowlicks) and eyelashes. (Girls, be jelly...)
But there are differences...
Boy can SPIT UP! It took me 5 weeks to admit I have a "spitter." I've never had one before. It's not projectile, but as evidence from the picture above, you can be sure I have lactose christened shoulders after almost every feeding. No wonder my husband constantly says, "you smell like milk..."
Boy has got an INNIE belly button. I have to actually clean inside that sucker. After it got rancid his first week (no joke, rotting umbilical cord is RANKTASTIC peeps), I was obsessed with making sure once the stub fell off that the cavern in his belly didn't harbor tasty bacteria slurries. (You are welcome for the mental image).
Boy is a totally different nurser. Miles was the boob hog. (Pantly pull off method please?) Felix was business in the front, acid reflux in the [arched] back. Gus is a gulper. I think he can't handle my letdown, and he also is a victim of the shallow latch (we are working on it). So poor kid gulps so much air, and gets the worst hiccups. But boy can BURP. We are just working on getting him to say "scuse me." Clearly he is well fed, but we are working on stretching out time between feeds because the mammary jungle needs a break.
Boy has some long, narrow feet. Miles has tiny feet (at 5 years old, he wears the same size 9 as his younger brother). Felix has what I lovingly refer to as "paddles" (large and wide), and Gus has feet that I think could play piano.
Boy is chill! Okay, so currently I think we are going through week 5 of the "wonder weeks" and he is exceptionally fussy, but overall he has been an easier baby than the other 2. And doesn't loathe the car seat...yet.
Great...now I jinxed it.
From the sleep deprived brain of Ali at 3:43 PM