“That baby looks like he just had a good meal.”

At Citarella grocery.
Lady, are you telling me my baby is FAT?

Tags: Feeding

Things I was scared of before August was born:

Changing nappies
The contents of those nappies
Crying
Sleep deprivation

Things I wasn’t scared of before August was born, but I should have been:

Breastfeeding
Nap time
Eye rubbing

Things I am currently scared of:

Crying
Sleep deprivation

Things I am no longer scared of:

Breastfeeding
Nappies
The contents of those nappies
Eye rubbing

The jury’s still out on whether or not to be scared of nap time. But all in all, that’s progress, folks.

There’s nothing quite like the feeling of climbing into a bed made up with freshly washed, crisp, white sheets. No wrinkles, plump duvet, you can just feel the stresses melt away.

Isn’t it just the best?

Well, that was my night last night. I climbed into bed, eyelids heavy with exhaustion and I plumped up my pillow and turned to one side and shut my eyes. And then I turned to the other side. And then I opened my eyes. And then I stared at the ceiling for a while. And then I rearranged my pillows and tried sleeping on my tummy. And then I went back to my original side and tucked my legs up. And then I dozed for a while…but wait, did I hear crying? Yes? Yes?

No — just the sounds of the night. And then I watched the monitor with its green eye and then just as I my eyelides were starting to close, the monitor perked up — beep beep beep — with a lost signal. So I hopped out of bed and fixed it.

Back into bed. Looking at the ceiling. Is the nursery to warm? I’d better go check. Temperature fine. Baby breathing. Check, check.

Back into bed. Looking at the ceiling. Checking the clock. Tick tock, another sleepless hour logged. Turning to my side. Plumping the pillows. Counting back from 20. I hear the songs of the They Might Be Giants ABCs soundtrack. It’s rocketing around in my head like … rocks. Check the clock. Check the monitor. Close my eyes.

And the monitor perks up and lights flash blue, the wailing begins. Over to the nursery for a feeding. Baby up, baby fed, baby down.

Back into bed. Looking at the ceiling. I close my eyes. It’s almost 4 a.m. Sleep descends And then, good morning! It’s time to wake up, it’s 6.15 a.m. on a glorious Monday. Up, out of bed, off to the nursery to collect the squawker.

Who needs sleep anyway?

Tags: Mother, Sleeping

Over the past few weeks August has been on a bit of a no-sleep-non-stop-crying bender which I blame on the construction project upstairs combined with my thinking that it might be OK for a 2-month-old to miss his midday nap. (What? I must be sleep-deprived! If a child under one year ever, ever, EVER looks you in the eye and communicates that he is not tired enough to sleep and that he can skip his nap, don’t ever, ever, EVER believe him.)

In any case, among other things, this bender caused us skip Halloween since the child was simply too cross to be costumed. I’m certainly glad we didn’t spring for the $30 peapod outfit with detachable foam “peas” and matching hat.

When August is older and he asks me what he wore for his first Halloween, I’ll tell him: a sleep suit. And when he asks me what he did, I’ll tell him: he cried. And then I’ll serve him peas in their pods for dinner. So there, Aug.

(By the way, if you’re wondering what he would have been had he been in better humor, he would have been New Orleans Saints quarterback, Drew Brees.)

Tags: Baby Clothes, Crying

Some things just go together —

For example: Red beans and rice are a natural combination. So is peanut butter and jelly, cookies and milk (see previous), hot dogs and mustard, bangers and mash.

And some things just don’t go together —

Babies and construction work.

So, here’s the thing, if anyone was wondering why Baby Augie hasn’t been updated in a while (Lauren), it’s because we’ve suffered the most almighty construction project. Located where? Right above the nursery.

Here’s what happens: At 7.56 a.m., we hear the first clomp, clomp, clomp of workers’ boots entering the apartment. There is about half an hour of touring as the workers examine everything that happened the day before. Then they start pounding the walls with what — pick-axes? crowbars? heaven only knows what — and rocks, rubble and dust come flying down the walls entering our apartment under the floorboards. That continues until 12 p.m. when the workers take a break for lunch. Then, at 12. 30 the workers return and the drilling begins. A bit of drilling here and a bit of drilling there. Then there’s quiet for a while and then, just when you least expect it, the drilling will fire up or an entire bathtub will dropped or a cement-mixer or whatever it is they’ve got up there. And that continues until 5 p.m. when we hear the clomp, clomp, clomp of the workers’ boots leaving the apartment.

Meanwhile, downstairs in the Donner apartment, August wakes up and just when he’s about ready for a nice quiet feed on the couch, the pounding begins over the living room. So we hoist ourselves off the couch and move through to the bedroom (mercifully quiet), and there we hang out doing our best to ignore the pounding until nap time. Then August is wrapped up and dropped into his bassinet for his afternoon “nap.” The screaming begins after about 4 seconds, rising in pitch and intensity because it’s not his crib and it’s not familiar. And that continues interspersed with bouncing and shushing for about 30 minutes at which point August is placed lovingly in his stroller and pushed up and down the Upper West Side.

Then we return to the apartment and ensconce ourselves in the bedroom coming out only to change nappies amidst the construction dust clouds. Finally, ready for his late afternoon nap, August is once again placed lovingly in his stroller and carted about through Central Park where his eyes finally close. Then at 5 p.m. we’re back at the apartment where a desperately unrefreshed August is encouraged to wind down in his bedtime routine.

The nursery is a safe zone by then, so after a calm feed and a calm bath and another calm feed, he is wrapped up and placed in his crib and oh my-oh my-oh my-noooooo! Where is the bassinet? The crib is unfamiliar, the nursery is unfamiliar. And after bouncing and shushing and rubbing and calming, August finally — finally — drops into a fitful sleep waking up mummy oh, only 40 times-or-so during the night. And well, so the cycle continues.

So, in case anyone was wondering, that’s where we’ve been and no, construction works and babies do not go together.

Tags: Crying, Nursery, Sleeping

Sneaking into August’s bedroom at 10.25 p.m. for a late night snack. “Would you like cookies with that milk, Master August?”

Loosening the swaddle, stroking him on the belly, seeing the stretches, watching the yawns…It fills your heart to bursting.

He twists to the side, arches his back and curves his body into the shape a tiny shrimp. Oh, CUTE!

Then we feed.

And then, hopefully, hopefully, he goes down without a fight.

(Which he did.)

Tags: Feeding, Sleeping

Oh my goodness gracious me! Ol’ mummy learned something today. Oh yes she did. She learned that contrary to popular belief, her baby is not the most perfect baby on the block.

What?!

I know, but it’s true.

Little Anna, three doors down, who was born just a few days prior to August is sleeping through the night on her very own. Not even pseudo-sleeping through the night, like, midnight to 5 a.m., but the whole nine yards: 9 p.m. to 8 a.m. Scrap nine yards, that’s practically 12 yards.

I used to think my little August was perfect because he generally wakes up just once in the night and he sleeps unassisted in his big boy crib but clearly Anna’s doing sleeping better than he is. In other words, August brilliantly duped his mum into thinking he was more perfect than he is.

Or, perhaps August just didn’t get the sleeping memo.

Tags: Sleeping

This past weekend they let the Momma Pig out of the Pen (so to speak) to attend a wedding.

It was, I’ll be honest, exhilarating, to be surrounded by so many grown ups and to set the baby talk aside for a while. (August, I love you, but I can use a break from “Song of the Piglet” every now and again as I’m sure you can, too.)

What a thrill to mingle among adults. We spoke of careers and alma maters and sports. We filled our bellies with wedding cake and raspberries. We drank drinks. We danced to LOUD music played by a band with a BRASS section. We wore party dresses and high heels and — gasp! — mascara. The Champagne flowed and the men wore black tie. Wheee!

And then before you could say, “Cinderella,” the clock struck 11.55 and away we dashed into the night in our pumpkin taxi. We hurtled across the park, gallop, gallop, gallop lurching to a stop at No. 108 and bursting through the front door at the promised 12.15 a.m.

Goodbye babysitter. Hello Kid-Ville. It was fun while it lasted.

Tags: Mother

FOR LITTLE PORKLETS EVERYWHERE…

Pink ears; pink ears,

Pork thighs; pork thighs,

Pink ears; pink ears,

Snouts and curly tails….

[REPEAT ad infinitum while pointing to the relevant body parts*]

[*Where the body parts would appear if he had them. Eg: curly tails]

Tags: Songs

On the heels of Desperate Times for Desperate Measures, my darling baby woke me five times last night. This behavior was previously unheard of. At most there were two wakings and more recently there was just one.

But last night, August broke his own record. The wake-up calls began around 2.30 a.m. and continued through to 6.45 a.m.

There was certainly an avalanche of tears for every hour: 2 a.m., 3 a.m., 4 a.m., 5 a.m., 6 a.m.

Good grief, it makes me tired just to write it.

Obviously, the child understands that his mum suffers unconditional love or he’d never behave like that.

As a result, we operated on a rigid schedule today and did boring things like go to the bank and thumbed through Gina Ford for the thousandth time to see if there was some crucial elements we’d missed. We skipped fun things like baby yoga and seeing friends. That’s what happens when you wake up five times in one night. No prizes for you, Aug.

Tags: Crying, Gina Ford, Schedule, Sleeping