Week 23 Day 4: Drool, tears, and snot

I have baby drool, tears, and snot in my armpit. But hey, just another day in the life. Thug mama life. Or something. This bodily fluid tableau is the result of soothing an angry Bear to sleep this evening. Stacy had already tried to soothe him once. Twice if you count putting him to bed initially. Things were rough. There was a lot of crying. And hollering. And screaming, even. And to think I had just told Stacy that he didn't cry at all when I put him down for his afternoon nap. Apparently he was saving it up. In any case, by the time my turn to soothe him came I was wearing a tank top and what usually results gets absorbed into the shoulder of whatever shirt I'm wearing now resulted in a steady stream flowing down my back. And it was cold. And it really grossed me out at first, but I had bigger, sadder things to contend with at that moment so I tried to psych myself into believing that it was just my own sweat. Like maybe I'd just been running really hard. Because that's something that happens to me. (That is not something that happens to me.)

But the moral of the story is: he's asleep! Thank God. Now somebody get me a towel...

I've gotten two calls in two days from someone at A Place For Mom. The lady was asking for someone named Susan so I hope it really was a wrong number and not Gavin trying to get an early jump on his inheritance (he's going to be very disappointed). Hopefully Gavin never needs to call a place like that because both of his moms live until a ripe old age yet never lose control of their physical or mental faculties.

Gavin pinched my nipple really, really hard this morning. Not a nice way to wake up. But he's so used to manhandling Stacy's nipples that I don't think he thought about the fact that mine have not been through baby spring training and are therefore not up to being handled like a cow udder. Gavin was in bed with us because Stacy almost always brings him into our bedroom for his first nurse of the morning. It's quite a nice routine, I must say. I like waking up next to Stacy and Gavin, even if that means that I have occasionally awoken to feel a tiny hand slap my face or have a tiny fist clenching my hair. But this morning I was sleeping without a shirt on (I know, I know. Too much information! But it was really warm in our room! And I'm trying to set the scene for this little story I shouldn't in my good mind be relaying in the first place). I don't do well with sleeping when it's too hot. In any case, Gavin apparently noticed this lack of attire and BAM. Almost makes me wish I was one of those girls who has to wear a bra to bed (no, it doesn't).

One of my favorite websites is Awkward Family Photos and if you haven't checked it out you really are missing out on the meaning of life. Or close to it. In any case, there were three photos I saw yesterday that really summed up parenting. This one reminded me of my childhood, not because of any co-toileting escapades, but because the woman looks a lot like my mom and this is a view of her I saw often as a child. She was always reading a book and she could tune out nearly anything while reading. I suspect that Gavin will have similar memories of me since I read as much as I can. Sometimes I read when I'm hanging out with him. Not to ignore him, mind you, but if we're in his room he'll often play quietly with his toys and I'll read a few pages of a book. For awhile I felt guilty that I did this thinking I should be taking in every second of his babyhood and/or interacting with him, naming the color and shape of everything he picked up, for example ("Oh, you have a piece of dog food. Brown. Circle. Not for mouths"), but today proved to me that I've been doing the right thing by not micromanaging his playtime. I had to take him to an appointment today and I brought some toys to occupy him and he was so, so good, playing by himself (under direct supervision, of course) for a good length of time. Certainly longer than one could ever expect of a 10-month-old. As for the reading part, I think sneaking a page or two at a time of a book while I watch him is okay. It helps compensate for the lack of grown-up conversation I get in a day. And thankfully I am not one who tunes the whole world out while reading. Stacy is another story. Once while she was reading one of the Twilight books she was so engrossed that she didn't notice Emma, my sister's 60+ lb. greyhound who used to live with us, standing right next to her by the back door asking to go out. Emma is super polite and not a barker so when Stacy ignored her she waited until she couldn't wait any more and took a dump on the kitchen floor right next to Stacy's chair. But it wasn't until I came home who knows how much later and said, "What's that smell... Jesus, God, Honey, what in the hell is wrong with you?" that she even noticed. So Stacy's reading habits are really a liability as far as babysitting is concerned.