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Junebug updates
Mar. 2nd, 2012 08:43 pmno fun for you
Today on the couch I had to explain to the Junebug that he is not allowed to grab my Girl Genius collections because he is too little. He can't have them! He can't have anything fun! Then we lectured him about how he is too little for fun. This led to tossing him up in the air to keep him as far away from any fun as possible. Judging from the expression on his tiny face, however, that backfired somehow.
probably not dead
Child, in the middle of the night: HACK HACK COUGH COUGH WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH COUGH COUGH WHEEZE COUGH HACK CRYYYYYYYYY.
Me (mentally, slowly swimming my way up to consciousness): Oh. Crap. Baby's awake.
(long pause)
I guess I should check on him.
Child: COUGH COUGH WAAAAAAAAAAH wheeze AAAAAAAAAAAAAH - truly terrible death rattle CHOKE.
Silence: [REIGNS THROUGHOUT THE HOUSE]
Me: Crap.
C'mon kid, make some noise.
Silence: [IS UNBROKEN, UNLIKE ANY OF THE BABY'S OTHER THINGS]
Me: Okay. Um.
Probably he fell back asleep. In which case if I go in there it would be useless. And possibly counterproductive, because I might wake him up.
Or possibly he's dead. Maybe I should check on that.
(long pause, as it is 2:30 am and I am having about one thought a minute)
It would be a terrible tragedy if he were dead. But you could make the case that I would be more able to deal with a terrible tragedy after a few more hours of sleep. Crap, that's probably not the right way to think about it.
(long pause)
He might be only mostly dead though. How long can you be dead and they can still rescuscitate you? It's like half an hour now or something, right? How long was Buffy dead? The first time, I mean? Crap, how long have I been lying here thinking? Did I fall back asleep? Shit, maybe I should check on the baby.
------
Anyway, long story short (too late!) sometimes I get up and check on the baby, sometimes I don't, but either way he's always been fine, and we are starting to suspect that the horrifying death rattle thing is actually how he has learned to clear his throat, for maximum parental terror.
(I am doing more night-baby-checking now because Mr. E has managed to tear a tendon in his foot and is in a boot for a couple of months now, goddammit. Which means that if he checks on the baby, he has to put the boot on, with the baby wailing while he gets it on, then he has to clomp in there and accidentally kick the crib with the boot, which for some reason the baby is not a big fan of, then once the kid is quiet he has to come back and open the velcro to take the boot off which is quite loud and has been known to rewake the baby. So I'm doing more night-baby-checking. Goddammit.)
worst of both worlds
We were told that once the kid started eating solids his poop would immediately become smelly. And it has, Lord, it has. But we were also told that the good part was that it would become more solid, like ordinary poop, and easier to clean. This has so far failed to manifest. So now that the Junebug is taking in solids in homeopathic amounts (you want dilution? A standard dilution is the amount of applesauce ingested by a raspberry-blowing baby. He is really not taking to food. So far we do our best to make him laugh, or give him something he actually wants to put in his mouth, like an acrylic ball or a chunk of wood, and sneak the spoon in there when he opens his mouth to chew on the other thing) we still have the Lake of Whole Grain Mustard effect, but now he also smells like he is factory farming hogs in his shorts. Ah, parenting. I do it for the glamour.
Today on the couch I had to explain to the Junebug that he is not allowed to grab my Girl Genius collections because he is too little. He can't have them! He can't have anything fun! Then we lectured him about how he is too little for fun. This led to tossing him up in the air to keep him as far away from any fun as possible. Judging from the expression on his tiny face, however, that backfired somehow.
probably not dead
Child, in the middle of the night: HACK HACK COUGH COUGH WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH COUGH COUGH WHEEZE COUGH HACK CRYYYYYYYYY.
Me (mentally, slowly swimming my way up to consciousness): Oh. Crap. Baby's awake.
(long pause)
I guess I should check on him.
Child: COUGH COUGH WAAAAAAAAAAH wheeze AAAAAAAAAAAAAH - truly terrible death rattle CHOKE.
Silence: [REIGNS THROUGHOUT THE HOUSE]
Me: Crap.
C'mon kid, make some noise.
Silence: [IS UNBROKEN, UNLIKE ANY OF THE BABY'S OTHER THINGS]
Me: Okay. Um.
Probably he fell back asleep. In which case if I go in there it would be useless. And possibly counterproductive, because I might wake him up.
Or possibly he's dead. Maybe I should check on that.
(long pause, as it is 2:30 am and I am having about one thought a minute)
It would be a terrible tragedy if he were dead. But you could make the case that I would be more able to deal with a terrible tragedy after a few more hours of sleep. Crap, that's probably not the right way to think about it.
(long pause)
He might be only mostly dead though. How long can you be dead and they can still rescuscitate you? It's like half an hour now or something, right? How long was Buffy dead? The first time, I mean? Crap, how long have I been lying here thinking? Did I fall back asleep? Shit, maybe I should check on the baby.
------
Anyway, long story short (too late!) sometimes I get up and check on the baby, sometimes I don't, but either way he's always been fine, and we are starting to suspect that the horrifying death rattle thing is actually how he has learned to clear his throat, for maximum parental terror.
(I am doing more night-baby-checking now because Mr. E has managed to tear a tendon in his foot and is in a boot for a couple of months now, goddammit. Which means that if he checks on the baby, he has to put the boot on, with the baby wailing while he gets it on, then he has to clomp in there and accidentally kick the crib with the boot, which for some reason the baby is not a big fan of, then once the kid is quiet he has to come back and open the velcro to take the boot off which is quite loud and has been known to rewake the baby. So I'm doing more night-baby-checking. Goddammit.)
worst of both worlds
We were told that once the kid started eating solids his poop would immediately become smelly. And it has, Lord, it has. But we were also told that the good part was that it would become more solid, like ordinary poop, and easier to clean. This has so far failed to manifest. So now that the Junebug is taking in solids in homeopathic amounts (you want dilution? A standard dilution is the amount of applesauce ingested by a raspberry-blowing baby. He is really not taking to food. So far we do our best to make him laugh, or give him something he actually wants to put in his mouth, like an acrylic ball or a chunk of wood, and sneak the spoon in there when he opens his mouth to chew on the other thing) we still have the Lake of Whole Grain Mustard effect, but now he also smells like he is factory farming hogs in his shorts. Ah, parenting. I do it for the glamour.
