e and I had our worst day yet. He was mad at me. I was mad at him. He screamed. We both cried. Naps were a bust. It was just really really bad. Can’t say why. I can say I shouldn’t have been frustrated or angry or mad. This kid is clearly going through a lot and has so many huge feelings and is such a small small person and I should have held his hand and gave him a hug and helped him work through them instead of having to take a time out of my own. I shouldn’t have taken it personally, because it wasn’t personal. I have so so much to learn. I have so much growing to do myself.
Yesterday was the longest I’ve been away from bean in his short life. Four whole hours. He was with his poppa, so all in all he was just fine, but it was long for me and long for him (at least, I think it was. He hasn’t let me out of his sight since!)
I went to the dentist to get my appliances. They are monstrous. But if they work, I couldn’t care less. They spent an hour and a half making fine adjustments, which was just fine with me. The nighttime appliance still hurts, but I go back in two weeks so I’ll ask to have it sanded down then.
One and a half hours meant I missed the 1630 class at the gym. I just made it to the 1645 (after lots of hemming and hawing and a little bit of getting lost.) The workout was hard, and good. I slowed down a lot at the end; my stamina is shot. But I will work on it, and I will get better, and I will go to the gym even when I just want to go home and cuddle my little bean after too long of being gone.
He deserves a strong momma.
The eleven o’clock hour rolled around and bean stated he wanted to eat, by crawling to the kitchen, yelling “na na na na” and demanding to be up in my arms to survey the preparations of sustenance. I’ve become quite good at cracking an egg with one hand, and on Thursday I cracked three with nary a shell to be found.
Bean snacked on coconut while we waited for the yolks to transform into dandelion-yellow butter, and then we did something different. I put bean down into his little chair and dragged his little table around and he sat, and waited. I set his bowl for him, and his spoon, and half an egg white and a whole yolk partitioned into Modrian squares, and made my own bowl of the remnants of the frying pan. Boomer did her best to sneak bean’s eggs while my back was turned, but he defended his own with valor if not finesse.
And we both sat, and we both ate. Bean used his spoon for close to 45 minutes, painstakingly attempting to scoop those egg pieces. He got one or two, bringing them to his mouth with exquisite care.
I couldn’t be more amazed. This sweet kid, just doing things he wants to do, even if they’re hard.
Yesterday bean had TWO poops. Both were accompanied by screams and the saddest tears there ever were.
Poor sweet boy. I wish we could figure out how to fix his gut so pooping is smooth and happy as opposed to whatever it is now (painful, clearly, but since the stool is soft it’s not constipation!)
Both episodes were stressful in the moment but, looking back, comedy abounds.
The first: I’m pooping, and bean comes crawling toward me as fast as he can screaming his poop cry. I know instantly what’s happening, dash off the toilet, pick him up and turn around only to aim him onto the seat instead of into the bowl! Poop is everywhere: his shirt, my shirt, all down his legs, my arms; it is a crazy amount. He stops screaming (though the crying continues) and finally with a lot of shushing and a lot more poop spread he calms down. We both hop into the shower and bean is thrilled by the water! He is completely enthralled by the streams splattering his hands.
The second: I’m getting ready for the gym when I hear it again: that desperate cry that borders panic before sheer pooping pain. I race to rescue bean only to slip on boomer’s blanket and fall flat on my face, jamming my finger in the meantime. Bean is prairie-dogging, and the 20 foot trip from the kitchen to the bathroom never seemed so lengthy. Failure was inevitable. A little log (a soft one mind you) lands right next to my yoga mat (at least it wasn’t near the oly mat!) before we make it to the bathroom. I yelled my apologies to A as I forged onward with my distraught babe. My aim was particularly bad yesterday; we ended up in the shower once more. We had fun splashing around, and bean was smiling once more.
I have a feeling I’ve used this title before. In any case, I’ve certainly been a cookie monster before. But this current cookie habit is out. of. control.
My sweet tooth returned once my appetite returned (about four months postpartum.) However, it is ALL of my appetite. It seems I’ve lost my steak tooth, my poultry tooth, my veggie tooth, my egg tooth, my coconut tooth, even my sashimi tooth, and all have been replaced by sweet tooths. (Sweet teeth.)
I look at bean and to my brain, my logical brain, I know that he is the only sweet I want in my life. I shudder at the thought that I am offering him less than the optimum. And I look at myself, my cookie-full tummy, and think “geese get a grip!” Yet I still make those paleo cookies and I still buy that coconut ice cream and I still scarf down Power Snacks by the pound. I’ll go a few days before the urge becomes overwhelming, but then I always give in!
Our farm pick-up is but a few weeks away. With it will come copious amounts of meat, and I intend to replace my sweet tooth with a meat tooth. I am not so concerned about my food intake (though goodness knows I have a well-honed ability to eat until I’m sick) and know I need to support bean as he is still nursing with no end in sight! But it’s necessary for both of us that I reign in my sugar addiction and turn back to super foods that make me a super person.
Bean has been peeing and pooping on the toilet since he was two weeks old. We didn’t “catch” everything but it was part of a game and a way to break up the cycle of nursing and sleeping, nursing and sleeping, cuddling and nursing and sleeping. He seemed to have fun. We sure had fun. All was well.
Fast forward four months (right after his second DTAP and rota by the way) and he broke out in awful eczema, the worst being in his diaper area. The doctor said it was yeast and gave us a prescription. We used it for two months with no improvement. We switched from cloth diapers to disposable. Still no change. I eliminated even more from my very strict diet. Still no change.
It cleared up on its own (maybe with a little help from a magical concoction of beeswax, olive oil, and lavender but also maybe it had just run its course) but by eight months, the potty had turned into a “once in the morning” type of thing rather than an “every hour, half hour, ten minutes, two hours” type of thing. The disposables were so absorbent, bean no longer squirmed when he was wet (or about to be) and my instincts were completely dulled to his pee times.
Once the big scare came around, and the eczema reemerged and every single one of his little poops turned into pure torture for him, and my heart broke and my mind spun, I figured why not add a bit of spice to life and let bean go without a dipe. And that’s how things are now. He’s free, and peeing everywhere. Everywhere, that is, except the toilet. And the bathroom sink. He doesn’t mind the kitchen sink though (the window helps.)
A insists he wears a diaper when he’s home (bean’s peed on him twice, once in his work clothes.) The funny thing is, bean’s figured out how to take his diaper OFF, which he usually does right before he makes another puddle.
We’re still working on the toilet stuff. It’s not so hard to clean up pee, and he rarely poops (maybe once every four or five days. Or ten.)
It’s just a little humor as I find that the world is a much much much scarier place than I ever knew it was. Kind of like bean’s pee, I have little control over where or when anything happens. But with love, with attention, with patience, I can get it going to the right place eventually (the pee, not the world.) At least there’s that.
And really, when you’ve got someone to love, what more can you ask for?