Poor Canaan. I nursed him as usual tonight and carried him gently up the stairs. Laid him down in his nice cozy crib and - he wailed. The second he felt his toe touch the sheet he let loose. I patted his back - "it's okaaaaay, it's okaaaaay . . . night night, baby . . . "
I walked out and wanted to cry. It's SO unnatural to walk away from a crying baby. They're *designed* to cry when they need us. My arms are here for him.
But I need sleep. And so does he. When he wakes several times in the night, as he has done the last two nights, he takes very long afternoon naps. Which means he is totally missing out on the fun.
I came downstairs and e-mailed my sister - probably something completely incoherent - and then went up to cuddle him. As I lifted him out of his bed, he pointed with his whole hand at his bed, like it was a horrible offender. I had a flashback to all the times he's happily pointed out all the cute little bears on his sheet and wondered if they'd gone awry tonight and caused him stress.
I put him on Caris' bed with her and ran to my room for a solid blue sheet. Why are his sheets in my room? Because I stink at washing, folding and putting away all the laundry, that's why. I recently turned every stitch of the boys' laundry over to them so maybe that will help.
After I ripped off the monster-bear sheets I nursed mister again. And I laid him down again. Only this time, halfway through the lay-down he stiffened and cried. Loudly. My resolve was melting. I can't take it. I hate hearing him cry.
I came downstairs and pumped while watching Nashville Star. Felt very proud of the mama of 5 boys who recently lost 70 pounds and is gorgeous and can SO sing. And guess what? When I shut off the pump I realized there was a sound of NO crying.
Wouldn't you think I would be like, YAY! Well, I kind of was but mostly I had the almost irresistible urge to run up those stairs, gather my most sweetest of baby boys and take him right into my bed with me. That would make completely perfect sense, right??
I know. It's why I'm here writing to you, to avoid my neurosis.
And in other news, while I was - hmm, I don't actually know where - my dog stole a Granny Smith apple from my counter and devoured it on the living room area rug. I totally craved Granny Smith apples when I was pregnant with Caris. Let's hope nothing strange is going on with Moxy.