cried wolf talked at length about sleep transitions many times here. She’s in the bouncer! She’s too big for the bouncer! Co-sleeper! Magic sleepsuit! Just kidding, she’s only sleeping two hours at a time, back to the bouncer! Well, for real this time, I’m serious I totally mean it, you guys, she is out of the bouncer. She is 100% officially too big to be sleeping in it anymore, not even for middle-of-the-night, dear-god-why-won’t-she-go-back-to-sleep moments. The pack ‘n play is also no longer an option, since I realized in the middle of the night last week that she’s three pounds too heavy for the bassinet part of it, and my back cannot support picking her up from basically the floor once the bassinet is removed.
So, we’re back to swaddling her in the co-sleeper. We had to elevate the mattress for the first two nights, but now she’s fine sleeping flat on her back. She naps in it like a dream (albeit for a little less time than she was napping in the bouncer, but I think we’ll get there soon enough), and bedtime is getting easier. Can I get a very tentative amen?
Related to point #1, I’ve come to the startling realization that once Natalie a) outgrows the co-sleeper; or b) learns how to break out of the swaddle, the only option we have left is for her to sleep in the crib in her own room. Make no mistake, it’s happening, and soon. The miracle blanket, while aptly named, does have a limit to its miraculous properties, particularly when attempting to contain a freakishly strong, 100th-percentile baby.
I know that many of you are thinking, so what’s the problem here? Isn’t it a good thing for her to sleep in her own room? To which I say, (while clutching my pearls) THAT’S MY BABY GIRL YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT.
I’m sure she’d do just fine; I’m the one with the problem. It’s so convenient having her right beside me. Although I have mostly corralled the new-parent urge to check her breathing in the middle of the night, every so often I do reach out and put my hand very gently on her chest. Just, you know, to be sure. Better safe than sorry and all that jazz. Every peep on the monitor will have me running down the hall. Will is going to have to straight-jacket me before I go to sleep.
Hey, paranoid much? LEAVE ME ALONE I’M JUST NOT READY. Le sigh.
On Monday Natalie and I get to take an adventure, since I will be bringing Beckham to the vet and she’s coming along for the ride (I asked Roo to babysit but he said he had other plans). He’s always been a special, sensitive kind of cat (and I mean that in an entirely insulting way), but he’s reached a new low by systematically chewing off half the fur on his rear end, belly, and legs. I think it’s stress-related, since he hasn’t been allowed to sleep in our room since Natalie was born and he’s very,very bothered by this.
The other possibility is that he’s an idiot. I mean, that’s a given, but this lovely behavior could be caused by his idiocy, as he’s taking to lying directly on top of the heating vent in the bathroom floor. I imagine that would be quite drying for his skin and possible make him a bit itchy, hmm? We have a long history of taking Beckham to the vet and paying $100 to be told things like “your cat has acne,” “your cat has earwax,” and “your cat keeps stepping in his own poop and giving himself infected toes.” All true stories, by the way.
On the plus side, he’s actually a yellow lab in cat’s clothing, so he LOVES going to the vet. Genuinely, completely, loves the vet. They have to take extraordinary measures to listen to his heartbeat, because he never stops purring. Literally. Either they put something stinky on his nose or put his head directly next to running water (just one step removed from kitty waterboarding, apparently), and that’s the only way to make him stop.
He’s an adorable idiot.
Natalie is so close to laughing. If you do something she finds funny, she breaks into a big grin and then scrunches her shoulders up by her ears while making this “heh heh” sound. Honestly it sounds more like Beavis and Butthead than anything else but it’s pretty great. Still waiting on those baby belly laughs, though.
I’ve fallen behind on taking pictures for my 30 Days of Thankful project (part 1 and part 2), but I haven’t stopped thinking about things that I’m grateful for. Tops on my list this week is Christmas music and the freedom to listen to it whenever and at whatever volume I want, even though *gasp* it’s not Thanksgiving yet. That was always my dad’s rule growing up: no Christmas music in the house until the day after Thanksgiving, at which point you are free to be as festive and merry as you wish.
Will’s rule? No Christmas music ever, except for maybe 15 minutes on Christmas day. All merriment and festivities must cease and desist immediately. I’m not sure quite sure how I married someone who despises Christmas music (I didn’t even know such people existed, quite frankly). Fortunately he has many, many other redeeming qualities that very nearly make up for the fact that when he watches How the Grinch Stole Christmas his first thought is, “hmm, not a bad plan.”
But it’s just not the Christmas season without Mariah Carey’s groundbreaking album.
All I want for Christmas is YOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU.
Speaking of which…two weeks ago I was writing like it was way too early to even be discussing Christmas, and now I’m in full-blown EVERYBODY PANIC IT’S ALMOST CHRISTMAS mode. Why does that happen every year? It’s not like Christmas is a randomized date that could pop up on your calendar haphazardly at any time. It’s always the same. And it’s always a surprise. I don’t understand.
With the weather getting colder and windier but not so bad to stop us from going on walks during the day, I decided it was time to break out the rain canopy for the stroller. I’ve affectionately nicknamed it the “suffocation cover” because you are essentially covering your stroller in a giant piece of plastic that makes it look like your baby is in a fishbowl. The logical part of my brain understands that a company couldn’t possibly sell a product that would, in fact, cause your baby to suffocate if you used it as intended. That did not, however, stop me from peering in at her every five minutes to make sure she was still well oxygenated.
So far, so good.
While on the phone with my sister during one of these walks I was lamenting the fact that Natalie gets to be all nice and cozy in the stroller, protected from the wind and the cold, while I am most definitely not. Why does a product not exist that does the same thing for adults?
Then I realized there is. It’s called a car.