Those nights

You know them.

When your nurse-to-sleep-easy-going baby turns into a 2 hour-nursing feign-sweaty-can't get comfy-won't calm down baby.

When you give up, put the baby in the car and go buy a hot chocolate from the Golden Arches because really there isn't much more you can do. Even as we left the house, SugarButt was STILL smiling. Ha! Crazy kid.

As we were leaving the house Paul said, Drive safe. And with a smart ass retort I said, Yea, you're welcome. Paul? NOT pleased and he called me out on it.

I explained its hard to feel appreciated when I'm the one up late (or early depending on how you see it!) and I like to hear I'm appreciated, just like he does at work. He does appreciate me-ALOT. I know that.

What I should have said is, Honey, I'm tired. I need to know that you appreciate me right now. A hug would be nice too.

I'm thankful I can say those things after I realize that what I originally said was wrong. I'm thankful my husband is so patient and willing to forgive me when I am passive aggressive.

He was tired and I am still tired. (I'm sitting in the car on my phone typing this-lol). Just like we are understanding of SugarButt not able to get comfortable when his teeth hurt or he's hot, we need to be understanding of each other-that we both work hard, that we need to be held too. That we are both tired. And that we love this baby like no one else. Oh, and each other. <3

Next time Paul comes home from work grumpy, I'll make sure to pull him into my arms and hug and kiss him. And feed him. Because those three things make all the difference in his world ;) just like I do for Jack. It really is no different. I'm here for these boys no matter what's wrong--teething, sickness, bad day at work, falling down the stairs, smashed a finger, anything. I want them to know I'd do anything to be as understanding as possible, even if it's all I can offer. <3

{SugarButt is asleep, and has been for a bit. Plus my hot chocolate is almost gone}

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Sweet Irony

I let little SugarBaby eat whatever he likes, well within reason. And, apparently my 'reasoning' is way out of line. (I'll get to the irony in a bit)

Things he's allowed to eat:
Boob milk
Dirt
Rocks
Sticks
Grass
Bark dust
More dirt
Leaves/plants
Flowers
Vegetables
Fruit
Eggs
Meat
A few more sticks
And some more dirt
And, more boob milk
Basically, if its not been processed, he can eat it.


Things J has eaten that I don't want him to eat but he tends to/has eaten:
My postpartum fall-out-all-the-time hair
Poop-his own (that's another blogpost)
Dust bunnies
I think that covers it

Things I don't let J eat:
Any grains--rice, flour, oats
Processed foods--including but not limited to: crackers, soda, juice, candy, cupcakes, baby puffs, mushy baby food.

So here's the irony. We were at an event with other women, mamas an babes. People were FREAKING about
Him eating dirt. Then upset about him eating a stick. Then annoyed that this irresponsible young mom was letting her kid roll around in the bark dust. Geez. (oh, I whipped my boob out too ;)) I got sick of all these crotchety women harping on me so I stopped letting him eat everything--insert PAIN IN THE ASS--and everyone seemed to calm down. Ok, here's the kicker. A mom was there with her 7 month old baby feeding him a cupcake and frosting. FROSTING. Where the heck where all the haters? Sitting by enjoying their cupcakes of course! Kill me now.

Irony, sweet, IRONY. You're welcome America for not contributing to the rise in healthcare costs by avoiding exposing my child to obesity and diabetes. Please send thanks in the form of dark chocolate.

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Good Night Little Man

Your sweet hand rests on my chest as you drift off to sleep. Like you're saying,

Don't leave mama. Stay. It's been a long day.

You're done nursing for now but I know you'll want me again soon.

Sooner than my selfish self wants, but never soon enough for my
Mama self.

And when I'm mid shower and I hear your daddy cooing to you, I'll sigh.

Not because I'm frustrated that you're awake.

Not because you do the same thing every night.

Not because your daddy can't do it himself.

No, I sigh because it won't be much longer until you will want your daddy over me. Until you will be going to kindergarten, or prom, or college.

I sigh because there are far fewer things in this world I love more than the way your hand rests on my chest and your feet on my legs, just reassuring yourself that I'm still here. <3

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