Sunday, April 03, 2005


Sam returns to work in about 10 hours, meaning my first day as a SAHD is about to begin. Time to get those fingers crossed...and blog ready.

Also, Poppa Large is turning into Poppas Large - I'm inviting a few other dads to join in to post. Stay tuned.

(Call me Daddy-O from now on).

Ok, far, it's been a minor disaster.

L and I drove Sam to her first day of work - everything was great. L slept for the ride down, during the visit to Sam's workplace and all the way on the ride back, plus an additional 30 minutes. At around the 3 hour mark since her last feeding, she started to wake up and fuss so I changed her diaper, had the bottle all ready to go and...

It's like someone set off a Fuss Bomb. L was as unhappy as I've ever known her to be. She started crying the moment she woke up and from that point onward, didn't stop. This went on for at least 40 minutes. She hated the bottle, hated being picked up and held, hated being put down, hated having her diaper get the point.

The only thing she didn't hate was our swing, which is compelling me to send large donations to Graco for their godly creation. I, of course, feel shitty about this because I shouldn't have to use a machine soothe her when I'm right here, three feet away, but her crying was so persistent and loud, I was seriously hearing ringing in my right ear.

My guess - and this is only a guess since, hey, I don't really know what the fuck is going on - is that L's hungry but wants boobie. Boobie, alas, is about six hours away. L usually doesn't have that much trouble taking the bottle - she usually has a meal from the bottle every day or so - but I can appreciate that she's used to breast. If I thought it would have helped, I would have offered her myown but I don't think I can offer a reasonable fascimile to Sam's glandular grandeur. (I guess I could give a call over to BALCO and get some 'roid help with that though).

This is the grand irony, the flipside to my post Mammary Madness: after stressing to high heaven about the baby only taking the bottle and not taking the breast, we've suddenly had the tables turned. L nurses off the breast dreamily but try to ease the bottle into the picture and L's cocking her eyebrow, pouting her lips and giving me a "whatchu' talkin' about Willis?" stare (this about two seconds before she opens her mouth and starts firing with her Luger Lungs.)

Right now, she's sleeping in the swing and I'm plotting my next course of action until she wakes up again. Hopefully, I can whip up some kind of McGuyver-like solution...something involving a burp cloth, diaper snappy and breast pump tubing.

We'll see what happens later. Mommy needs to come home, stat!
(I'm such a wuss right now).

Last update of the day: altogether, today was a journey into my private concentric circle of hell. L-Boogie had two long napping periods which were dreamy for me...but once she awoke, she was inconsolable. I didn't help things by accidentally pinching her when I was trying to take a diaper snappy off. It's like when she gets a shot at the doctor's - she's eerily quiet for a split second as her primitive brain processes what's just happened...

Hmm...what was that?
That was different.
I...I...I think it hurts.
Oh yeah, it hurts really bad!

I think, at one point, I had to scream myself (into a pillow) out of frustration, as well as rough the bed up a bit, just to expel some pent up ickiness. Sam says I was probably far, far more tramatized by today's events than L was but of course, being a PIP, I assume that I managed to squander whatever trust I've built with L over the last two months of attachment parenting. (Remember - the "P" in "PIP" stands for "paranoid").

Ah, tomorrow's another day though. Woo woo.

Posted by P.L. at 11:22 PM


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