Posted by: Hannah | 04/23/2012

in which Baby G is 4 months

Baby G is creeping up on four months old.

Oh, this stage is tough.

He’s so cute. He smiles big and his dimples are mighty. His eyelashes are all long and fluttery and the top of his head smells better than anything.

His cry is very loud, and when he’s hungry he is hungry RIGHT NOW, not five minutes from now or when I’m done in the bathroom or when I’ve finished my tea. He doesn’t like to be put down for naps. Or while he’s awake. He would like me to not ever eat dinner uninterrupted and he must be swaddled to sleep because arms! legs! THE FLAILING OF THE ARMS & LEGS IS AWESOME EVEN WHEN IT MAKES HIM CRY.

I think I have the mange. My hair is falling out in clumps. It’s scattered everywhere and my vacuum cleaner is clogged with it. The grey hairs never fall out. Only the brown ones.

I want to eat all the things. He likes to nurse every two hours – exactly every two hours – from 6AM until 6PM, and then again at 10PM, and then around 2AM, and then maybe some light snacking until dawn. I eat constantly. I eat and while I’m eating I think about what I’m going to eat the next time I eat, which will probably be in 15 minutes or so. I lost all the pregnancy weight like that. Except I didn’t lose the weight after Ron was born. Or after Harry was born. So I’m still forty pounds overweight and I’d like to be not eating all the things because I’ll bet it would be a fantastic weight-loss plan, but that would involve me not eating, and I’m STARVING. Always starving. So that’s a no-go.

He does sleep in his bassinette every evening. This is a bonus. It’s right beside my bed so I can night-feed him before he really wakes up and gets loud. Also a bonus. Problem is, he can sense me when I walk into the room, even if I’m tiptoeing. This means that if it’s Business Time, we need to sneak around in our own house like teenagers, trying to find a place where we won’t wake a baby, get walked in on by a six year old who needs to pee, or be stared at by cats.

My brain doesn’t function. I can’t spell. I can’t express the most basic of thoughts without sitting down and thinking it over, possibly for days. I tried to figure out what percentage of my income last year went for taxes and I couldn’t, even with a calculator – I eventually came up with an answer but I had to verify it with Hubs. I spent a solid two hours yesterday playing a video game meant for children. And I couldn’t solve some of the puzzles anyway. Someone on Facebook suggested I google the word “askew”, for a chuckle. So I did. And was thoroughly annoyed for several minutes that the screen was all slanted and weird – askew, if you will – but couldn’t figure out what was funny and spent some time clicking on the first few links to try and figure out what the joke was.

Did I mention the eating? because I’m eating right now.

I’m crazy hormonal. I can’t watch baseball because I’m too emotionally invested in the players’ feelings. A young guy had his major league debut the other night and I had to look away completely because oh my god, there’s his mom in the stands and he’s not doing so well, and look at his face, he looks like he wants to cry or throw up or both, and look at her face and how she’s trying to be brave and GAAAA. Your odds of every playing in the major leagues are so small as to be almost non-existent, but Harry wants to be a ball player and I pictured myself, watching his games, biting my nails and urk, can’t look, pass the beer.

I live in squalor. I can’t keep ahead of the housework because I can’t do it when Molly and Luna are here, and my chore time used to be during Pixie’s nap, except now I’ve got Baby G and he likes to be touching me all the time. But not in the Moby, or the Bjorn, or even carried on one hip with his not-quite-four-month-old head flopping; no, he likes to be cuddled in the crook of my left arm while I sit and pay him undivided attention. My kitchen floor is sticky and my bathtub doesn’t bear discussing and I only seem to be keeping up with meals, dishes, and laundry. (My sink is still shiny, though).

All of this will pass. I know this.

But man, am I tired.



  1. Oh great. So since things are rather similar over here at 10 weeks, I can’t expect much change for the next month or two, eh? Rats.

    • Sorry. I seem to remember from the older boys that things got better around the six-month mark; solids are introduced, baby is interested in toys, etc. But maybe that’s momnesia talking again.

  2. Ohhhhh boy. It will pass, it will pass but argh!

    A beautiful poem that this post reminded me of!

    • Oh, that made me cry! What a lovely little poem.

  4. Ugh. Every single thing I start to type seems singularly unhelpful.

  5. At least you have an excuse. What’s mine?

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