I write this from my desk chair, watching a fuzzy headed baby boy fight sleep in his cradle swing. He's swaddled, rocked, and has a fan by his head for white noise. And yet, I can't keep him asleep for more than a few minutes unless he's in my arms. And even then... So much gas. So many burps. An infant's digestion has more emphasis on his sleep and waking habits than anything else. And by anything else, I mean a harried mama, hushing a toddler or creating a perfect sleep environment.
In other news:
He's sweet, and kissable, and so chunky. We're falling in love with him more and more, probably because he's screaming less and less.
(Uh, oh. He got his left hand out of the swaddle.)
He looks so much like his brother, but with all that brown hair, he's his own little person too. He's starting to smile at us, and coo, and it's the sweetest little sound.
(That left hand is trying its best to wake the little guy up.)
He has a chronic stuffy nose and grunts and snorts all night long. Mama doesn't get much sleep.
(Asleep, awake, asleep, awake. It's stressing me out. And now, a little cry.)
Just more settling in. Getting used to this and this and this. A new schedule-- or a lack of one. A baby next to us at night. A slightly jealous (and who would blame him!?) toddler. A dada with a sprained ankle. And on and on. It's not everyone's version of chaos around here, but it sure is mine. Just trying to settle into it; embrace it until I can change it.
(He's awake for good, I think. Insert sad face here. That dang left hand. Gonna go wrap him back up and try again.)