should remember this
and yet it is new again
blame the exhaustion
Last night I got 17 minutes of sleep. The rest of the time was spent trying to figure out how to keep my hand on Ike-a-saurus while he slept, to make sure he was still breathing. Turns out, neither of my arms bend the right way to achieve this with the bassinet.
The other two kids, when they were infants, just slept tucked up under my armpit all night, but this guy is still so tiny, I am afraid my arm might work as a middle of the night nutcracker. Oops.
I also tried sleeping with my head on the edge of the bassinet so I could keep an eye on him, but I was afraid the weight of my lolling head would tip the bassinet off it's base and catapult the baby out the window.
Then, of course, there was the pooping. It went like this:
Ike: grunt grunt grunt grunt (10 minutes later) grunt grunt grunt grunt (30 minutes later) grunt grunt grunt grunt POOOOOOP.
Me: Holy crap, did you HEAR that?
I would get up, change the diaper, and as I was washing my hands, POOOOOP.
(And, hello grunty, baby! No crying, just little pig/goat grunts all night long. It is like sleeping in a very cold, much nicer smelling barn.)
Also, we had some exorcist moments of the milk shooting from mouth and nose. It's a good thing Linda Blair was not wearing a snap up body suit during that mess, or the movie would have been ten hours long while we waited for them to change her clothes. ZIP UP BODYSUITS, BABY CLOTHES DESIGNERS. MAMAS WANT ZIPPERS. Not 42,000 snaps that get all fucked up and make you wonder what monkey dressed your baby in the middle of the night until you remember that you are the monkey.
The good thing about 17 minutes of sleep is that they are the deepest, most blissful 17 minutes ever. So nice and rejuvenating for the monkey mom's complexion and sanity.
I am looking forward to my 17 minutes tonight.