OK, I’ve got a greedy guts on my hands.

Given that the child issued from the loins of Greedy Guts Herself (c’est moi), that may come as no surprise. But seriously this is ridiculous.

The child cries as if he has never eaten before.

The wails begin small and slow. Let’s say that’s a 2 out of 10 on the hunger scale.

After a minute, the cries elevate to a solid 4 out of 10. The mouth tips down to a frown.

Then, before you can say milk, the hunger stacks up to piercing, 10 out of 10. Blink once and it’s 11 out of 10. Then 12 out of 10.

(“Help! Help! Somebody save me!”)

We’re now at 13 out of 10.

14 out of 10.

Grab the trusty Boppy…

(“It’s been hours since I ate!”)

Unhinge the nursing bra…

(“I am deprived!”)

16 out of 10.

(“If I don’t eat in the next 10 seconds, I will never survive!!!”)

20 out of 10.

(“Help! Help! “)

Sling baby over the Boppy…

(“Kkkkkkkkkk. Kkkkkkkkkkkkk.”)

Offer baby the breast. BUT in the 2.7 minutes it’s taken to get organized, the greedy guts has worked himself up into such a state that he is simply too hungry to feed at all. One tiny fist flies through the air to punch ol’ mum again and again. The world is a mess of tears and sorrow.

Oh, but wait, is that gulping, I hear? The rhythm starts up and great big loud swallows that makes starvation sound moderate compared to what he’s been through. Glug, glug, glug, gulp, swallow, glug, glug, glug, gulp, swallow, glug, glug, glug…

We’re just fine now.

To try and avoid these types of antics, we’ve enforced a new feeding schedule:

6.30 a.m. (half feed)
7 a.m. (other half)
9.30
12 noon
2.30 p.m.
5.30 p.m. (half feed)
6.15 p.m. (other half)
10.45 (dream feed)
2 / 3 / 4 a.m. (Auguie’s choice)

You think that’s deprived? Hmm, me neither.

Tags: Crying, Feeding, Schedule

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

It’s a truth universally aknowledged that babies cry.

Which is fine.

And truthfully, I really don’t mind it when babies around me scream their guts out. As the books say, they’re just trying to tell us something.

What I do mind is the sound of my baby crying. I mind it especially when it begins at 6 a.m. and it keeps up a steady and consistent pace until 7 p.m. when my baby mercifully passes out in snarling exhaustion.

Today was one of those days.

After I’d tried the bouncing and the shushing and the feeding and the burping and the singing and the dancing … and after I’d tried the trusty pacifier and had it spat back into my face five times, I resorted to yoga. Why not? All else had failed.

We began by singing three times the song of om. August cracked a smile which grew into a grin. But wait, was he laughing at …  me? Harrumph.

Enough of om. Aug lay back in savasana and I ran my hands down his torso to his toes.

At this point I had his attention and was it … focus?

Then we did a visualization exercise which went something like this:

You are outside, lying on a bed of soft grass. You are warm, well-wrapped in a blanket. (Actually let’s make that a swaddle.)

You are looking up at the sky. Surrounding you are trees, their leaves turning from green to yellow to orange. The yellow leaves start floating and spiraling down and land on your tummy. They land on the grass beside you. You can make out the branches against the sky.

You start to notice the sound of waves lapping at the shores of a nearby lake. A mist emerges from the water and twists among the tree trunks, rising up, up, through the branches to the leaves…

…And so on…

And then August started to cry. But hey, it soothed him for 10 minutes, and for today, that was a record.

Back to BabyAugie.com

Tags: Crying, Exhaustion, Parenting, Schedule

Today, I’m writing about sleep deprivation.

YIKES.

It sneaks up behind you and nudges you. It starts you swaying, slowly at first. Without attention, it swells into a tidal wave. It brings you to the ground. Oh boy, without sleep, life is not worth living.

Today, sleep (or lack thereof) and Francesca butted heads.

It’s not that I’d had a particularly bad night. Nor had I had an especially grueling day. It wasn’t any one moment that I could put my finger on; but six weeks of sleeping with one eye open takes its toll. And today, the toll needed to be paid.

August was hungry. If he could talk, he would have told me he was starving. “I’m having a growth spurt, mummy.”

And he was squealing.

We tried everything: more food, new positions, songs. Meanwhile, I was keeling over, swaying on my own two feet, wondering whether you could just hire a babysitter to come over and watch the baby so you could take a blessed nap.

And then I realized, that maybe August was tired too. Which he was. He’d been telling me that all along, but I’d misinterpreted the signs.

And we both slept: he in his little bed and I in my big bed.

And I’m alive again.

Whew, it was a close call.

Back to Baby Augie.

Tags: Napping, Schedule, Sleeping

Yesterday, August didn’t want to sleep.

He was cheerful and chirpy from morning to noon to night.

He lay on his playmat and kicked. He smiled. He cooed. He refused to nap.

So….

His mum decided she was going to be especially active with him today. She’d sing songs. She’d read stories. She’d give him an extended (extra fun!) bath. She’d take him on two walks instead of one. She’d bring out all the toys. She’d play music.

But today, August didn’t want to be awake. All he wanted to do was sleep.

So….

His mum folded up the playmat. She silenced the CD player. She put away the books. She dropped the toys back in their bin. She did one walk. She did a shortened bath. She sang only the softest songs.

While his mum may have decades of experience over him, at age five weeks, August has once again foiled his mum.

Predictability is not the name of August’s game.

Back to Baby Augie.

Tags: Playing, Schedule, Sleeping

I can’t say that sleeping is August’s finest talent. “Going down” usually involves an avalanche of resistance — piercing wails, coughing, spluttering and kicks to mum’s stomach, chest and breast. (There’s gratitude for you.)

But with Dad, his behavior is altogether more polite. He whimpers and then is quiet. Michael theorizes that it takes him exactly six minutes to settle (and silence) himself into sleep.

Since Michael is out at squash, we are testing this theory.

At 6.34 p.m., he was put into his cot. By 6.42 p.m. there was silence. Success! Hurrah!

BUT at 6.49 p.m. there were wails again. Does it still count?

Meanwhile, the cats sing to his cries. Yes, it is absolutely ludicrous.

Testing, Testing, Shhh, Two, Three — ADDENDUM

Oh bless me, it worked. Six minutes on the dot. 6.49 p.m. –> 6.55 p.m. Miracle Baby!

Tags: Crying, Schedule, Sleeping