Thane is getting old enough that I forget exactly how old he is. I believe he’s a day shy of his two month (8 week) birthday. I love him dearly. He’s doing a great job of sleeping at night — usually only waking up once or twice after I get him to bed. He’s packing on the weight — the only time of life when it’s great if you just pack on the pounds. His thighs are a delight in dimpled plumpness. His smiles are rare but exceptionally brilliant. He seems to be gaining control over his body and those weird appendages called “hands” and “feet”. He’s started looking more at things which are interesting. He LOVES tummy time — especially when he gets to have it on my lap. He has the most charming collection of coos and goos.
But that child wants to be held ALL THE TIME. It’s like he’s some sort of cute helpless infant who just wants his mommy’s arms. I mean, it’s not like anyone can hold him. Just mommy. I forgive him because he DOES go to sleep when I do. Also, it’s the most eminently reasonable thing in the world; for a child to want to be safe in the arms of his mother. But man is it wearying. I spend my days trying to figure out what I actually did with my time. In truth, it’s hard to do things when your child is in your arms almost all your waking hours. But at the same time, doesn’t Thane deserve to be held as much as he wants? He’s a baby. He’s been in the world a grand total of 8 weeks. You probably have Netflix videos older than that. The world gets hard soon enough.
It just makes it hard to: play with Grey, do the dishes, do the laundry (OMG the laundry), clean the house, wrap presents, exercise, stretch my back, cook, write blog posts, upload pictures, or generally do anything that isn’t watching “Avatar: the Last Airbender” (Note to world: we loves our new DVR we does) or read Anne McCaffrey novels.
Coincidentally, I have declared that every single Avatar character is my favorite so far. For reals I think it’s Toff. I wish they’d rebroadcast more of Season 1. I’ve missed almost all of it. And I’m nearly through with all the “Dragon” novels Anne McCaffrey has ever written, including most of the crappy ones. (“All the Weyrs of Pern” — I’m looking at you.)
Also, Thane has perfected the art of figuring out when my bedtime is. I keep TRYING to put him down at like 9 to see if I can shift his schedule a bit and have (GASP) an hour or two to myself or to spend with my husband. But Thane knows that bedtime is 10:30 (my bedtime) and no earlier.
Also, also, he cried more for anyone who is not me, even when he’s fed. It’s really, really hard to listen to your infant cry and not step in.
This time of life is short, I know. I’m far more aware of how finite babyhood is this time than I was last time. And frankly, 1 ain’t much easier than 1 month. (Ah, the dreaded mobility. Thane is already managing a scootch when put on his belly. I tremble.)
Lazy and weary is just an unsatisfying combination of emotions. Also, I find it very hard to be a good parent to both boys simultaneously. I feel like I’m always shorting one of them.
My mother once gave me a very valuable piece of advice: You don’t get through parenthood without guilt. Oh, is she right.