Shannon Phillips

Three nights ago, Robin slept through his 3 am feeding—meaning he slept six hours, from 11 to 5. According to my baby book, this is defined as “sleeping through the night.” I was holding my breath to see if he would keep on doing it, but the past two nights I’ve been up at 3 as per usual. Still, it’s got to be a good sign! Maybe we’re on the verge of a sleeping breakthrough…

He’s smiling more too, several times a day now. It never fails to reduce Sam and me to gibbering idiots.

So I’m relieved to find that my experiences are, once again, ones that about a million women have had before me. My mom says I was just like Robin at that age, fussy all the time; Dawn mentioned in the comments to my last post that her little boy was the same way; and the doctor told me today that babies are typically very crabby from about 6 to 10 weeks—something to do with their developing gastrointestinal system. Robin has been pretty farty lately, so maybe that’s it!

After keeping me up all night last night he’s been sweet today; my concern is keeping him awake so we don’t have a repeat. He did have to go in the sling for today’s check-in with the doc, which again sent him straight to sleep.

It was nice to see Dr. Berger again; she’s the one who delivered Robin, so her face may have actually been the first thing he ever saw. (He did not particularly seem to recognize her.) She complimented me on my weight loss and said my c-section scar looks good and that my ladyparts are pretty much back to normal. “Next time you can have a vaginal birth if you want,” she volunteered. “Oh no,” I said, “after 24 hours of labor I’m all about the c-section.”

She leaned in and dropped her voice. “I’m scheduling a c-section for my next one too. I’m not a fan of drama.”

“I’m not a fan of pain,” I said, and we shared a knowing chuckle. Then we talked about some girl stuff like S-E-X, and she sent me on my way. So I guess I’m officially all convalesced!

Sam, for parenting above and beyond the call of duty. Robin woke up last night at 3am and Wouldn’t. Go back. To sleep. Because Sam has to get up early and go to work, whereas I can (theoretically) catch a nap during the day, I generally take all the nighttime childcare duties. But I was falling apart by 5am, so lucky for me Sam voluntarily got up early and took over babyminding until he had to leave for work. Sleep never tasted so sweet! Yay Sam!

I should add to my last post that Robin isn’t cranky all the time, just a lot of the time. His other new (and vastly more charming) trick is the smile. I get a big smile every day, sometimes two of ’em. I tried to take a picture of him smiling this morning but only got a blurry one:

Also, here’s the mobile Sam made:

Robin’s entered a new stage of development. He now does more than eat and sleep: he’s alert for hours at a time. Unfortunately, during those hours, he wants to be entertained. Sometimes he can be soothed just by rocking, or looking at the mobile his daddy ginned up for him—out of a pair of chopsticks, a shoe string, a paper clip, and two origami cranes—but for a majority of the time he’s just fussy. Right now he’s bawling his little head off because I’ve fed him, I’ve changed him, I’ve walked with him, I’ve rocked him, I’ve sung to him and told him stories, and I am tired and so now I’m ignoring him, and good golly he is mad as heck about it.

The one thing that almost always quiets him is putting him in the sling and taking him for a walk, but this is because he instantly falls asleep. As soon as the walk is over and he’s awake again, he starts fussing. How do I get him to be happy during his alert time? Parents, give me your secrets, please!

Also my cat needs attention but I just can’t take her crawling all over me and meowing at me when I’ve spent all day catering to the whims of one needy mammal, so I just shoved her away and now I feel guilty about that too.

Good lord, why don’t they make ball gags for babies? I’m gonna start a business and make a million dollars.

So, although I don’t actually think much of the San Francisco Chronicle as a newspaper, I’m really enjoying their baby blog, “The Poop.” This post made me laugh, and all the comments about breastfeeding had me nodding vigorously in agreement. Just one more article to file under the category “lots of people already know everything I’ve recently learned.”

I can say that lactation for us has gotten much easier—latching on, at least, is a solved problem, and the nipple shield has been tucked away in the diaper bag and forgotten.

Yesterday Robin celebrated his one month anniversary (lunaversary?) of existing in the world outside my tummy. He marked the occasion by variously nursing, pooping, sleeping, fussing, waving his arms and legs, blowing spit bubbles, and blinking up at us with a wide variety of funny and curious expressions, one of which is illustrated above.

Today we went back to the doctor’s office for a check-up. Robin is gaining weight nicely—he’s nine and a half pounds now! He measures 21 and three-quarters inches from top to toe. He also got the second of his Hep B shots, which he did not consider a nice lunaversary present at all. Little does he know that next month he has five shots scheduled. It probably would not even help him to know that mommy and daddy have to get a shot too—the doctor “strongly recommended” that we both get a flu vaccine, as a way of protecting the baby from an illness that for him could be a very big deal. (He’s too small to be directly vaccinated for the flu.)

Au naturel:

In hand-knit booties:

In clever little socks:

• Taking small children to see slasher flicks.

I know it’s a little weird to fixate on this when people are out there doing vastly more abusive things to their kids, but I haven’t been able to get this story out of my mind since I ran across it a couple days ago. That poor little boy! “It’s scary. It’s scary. It’s really scary. Can we go and come back when it’s not scary.” Gah! I hate that parent so much!

• Piercing your toddler’s ears.

We attended a 4th of July barbeque last month where we noticed a little boy, barely old enough to walk—not quite old enough to navigate stairs—who was sporting a bright little earring. I privately disapproved, but apparently it’s a widespread trend: there’s a sign at our pediatrician’s office that says “Ask us about ear piercing!”

Maybe I’m just a prude, but body modification before the age of four??? I mean, I know he can let the piercing grow in, but it still leaves a mark. I feel like the kid should get to make his own decisions about permanent cosmetic alterations. What’s next, toddler tattooing?

And now, I’m off to make my own bad parenting decisions so that other people can criticize me on their blogs. It’s the Circle of Life, Internet-style.