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Browsing Tag: infants

From the Trenches

There are certain realities when you’re home all day with a baby, and it’s so, so easy to forget them until it’s too late and you’re pregnant again when you’re not in baby mode. They’re not ground-breaking, or mind-blowing, or even “Hey, whaddya know?”-worthy, but for what it’s worth, I’m writing down the top 3 of these realities that simply can’t be escaped, if you’re about to tread down a similar weary path yourself one day: 1. Breastfeeding exhaustion. I don’t mean it like, “Oh my gad can this kid EVER stop reaching for my boobies!” but more that you’re just…tired the whole year (or weeks, or year and a half, or whatever) that you’re nursing. I don’t really notice it until the baby’s weaned, and I can actually make it until 9 p.m. without falling asleep sitting up with my chin in my chest like my dad used to do in his recliner when he was in his 60s…

And Then There’s That

I love my son so much I sometimes wish I could just hold moments still–when he’s smiling at me, when I’m holding him, when he’s laughing at his sisters–to make sure I remember them so well I’ll never miss them. At nine months old, he lights up and says “Da Da” when he sees David walk into a room. He calls “Ma Ma” from his crib, usually when he wants something. It’s still sweet. If you say “kiss,” he leans his head forward to receive (maybe give, if he’s aiming for the air above my shoulder?) one. He laughs with a gasping guffaw when he sees one of us, and crawl-races over to be picked up. He smells like honey and warmth. He’s learned to stick his tongue out, which is way cuter now than it will be when he’s eight. He squeals with delight from his car seat as soon as he sees Saoirse climb into the minivan after school. He is adorable, and happy, and is an absolute delight, the life…

At Six Months

Cian’s teething. That one, that first stubborn tooth, on the bottom gum, right in front, has been there, hiding under the surface for weeks, sticking up against my finger when I feel it, but it won’t break through.  It’s just hanging out, waiting for I don’t know what (maybe actual real food that’s worth the effort rather than the mushed up baby carrots I’ve been attempting to shove in there?), but it just won’t budge. Instead, it sits there, right under the skin, and taunts us.  Taunts Cian, mostly, making him run his tongue over the sore skin, urging him to gnaw on anything that comes within arm’s reach:  a burp cloth, my hand, his sister’s hair. I am going to tell you that he is the happiest baby I’ve ever known.  You are going to roll your eyes, sigh, and possibly close your browser window.  I’m sorry.  I can’t fib.  It’s the truth.  Ask anyone, I swear:  he smiles at everybody.  He cries maybe in the middle of the night, when his diaper…