Six A.M., Seven months, Eight more years

And then maybe I’ll rest a little, when I send her away to a Concordia language camp (excellent idea, parents of mine). We had a sick little baby last night; puking and screaming. It’s happened enough times now that I thought we had a food allergy issue but, upon closer inspection, it seems to only happen at night when she is not interested in winding down. There could be reflux at work, but the internet has sold me on that affliction…and I’m not really interested in bringing it up to GossipDoc, as she will just quickly prescribe something and tell us about a vacation she is going on and who is incompetent these days in her field. Even though she was ignorant of the Happiest Baby on the Block saying, and I quote, “I’m supposed to read all those things, but I don’t feel like it heh heh.’

Anyway, Bitty Button works herself up before I’ve even left the room because she knows it’s bedtime. I’ve been avidly reading a million mothers’ perspectives on sleep — that elusive reward. But it seems to me that she is just not wired to sleep all night. She’s certainly too busy during the day to eat well, so she needs to eat at night. The only solution offered is the dreaded Cry it Out monster. An evil invention of Western society, that is right there. I think it has created generations of self-indulgent humans, desperately spending their precious lives searching for something to fill the void they all have, never really finding the source. We don’t know why, but we know we can’t count on anyone but ourselves.

Cry it Out doesn’t work,’specially if you have a kid who knows you’re just downstairs, so who are you kidding? She also immediately flips over and turns around, pointing the UPSIDE DOWN FROWN at me and bombarding me with Don’t Leave Me rays. Is she manipulating me? Only if you apply her rudimentary ‘wants’ to adult definitions. I mean, needs and wants can’t possibly define themselves this early. She doesn’t chuckle to herself maniacally when I come to her call, she whimpers gratefully and wraps her little monkey feet around my arm.

We did set up the crib/playard though, and I’ll be putting her down for naps in there. No recalls on the Playard or Co-Sleeper in recent history, which is more than I can say for so many expensive cribs. Now that we’re starting to sign, showing her her own room and animals and whatnot can be a handy tool. My goal is to get her to light up when we go in there, like she does when she knows we’re going to the car now. ADVENTURES. (I know there’s a blog out there that’s been around longer than mine that uses caps to illustrate points. But I’ve been chastised for doing it just as long (in high school essays) and I won’t stop now. Also, I’d footnote this but I’m not getting a grade so, neener.)

The whole point of this post… oh yeah! Okay, so last night when we thought our baby had an ear infection because she was all hot and sweaty and screaming and pulling at her ear and puking all over the place, what did we do? We gave her a dose of Tempra, got her all dressed up and took her out into the pre-spring drizzle melting the snow in our backyard. I can feel the whole of Victorian England rolling around in the graves at this, but girlfriend doesn’t have a fever this morning and is perfectly fine. I know that when I feel terrible, I always seek out some water to make me feel better. A rainshower is the best, but a regular shower will do. And, sure enough, she forgot her turning tummy and turned her face up to the tiny pinpoints flitting about, trying to figure out where they was coming from.

I now have a doctor dilemma though. We’ve held onto GossipDoc simply because there are no doctors receiving new patients out here. We scoured through most concerns like schools and extracurriculars, ambulance response and summer attractions (to attract our family to us in the summer) but we didn’t think to see about pediatricians. I’d love to find a naturopath around here for checkups but none really specialize in children. I’ve considered telling GossipDoc my concerns, but I know she’d only fall all over her face apologizing and then spend the rest of her life telling everyone else what obnoxious parents we are to the most annoying baby. We’d take over the title from some others I’ve heard about, I’m sure. Any suggestions, four readers?

p.s. I read a post by an army mom who says, ‘come to find out they don’t even have a memory at six months, let alone a sense of time. They have no idea whether it’s day or night.’ WHAT? Let me introduce you to Rowan. She’ll tell you what time it is.


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