a sample of parenting
uhh, this just in: infants are exhausting. we're babysitting for mrs. wintermute's old room mate (and her husband) tonight. when she dropped off the little muchkin, we were pretty amped about it. i mean, hold him a bit, sing a bit, feed him a bit, and put him to sleep. how hard can that be?
5:15: p is left with us. all is well as mommy walks out the door.
5:16: p starts crying. i feed him and he's pretty happy.
6:13: i come back from the grocery store. p is in his little toddler play thing (it's like a round thing that he sits in in) and very entertained. mrs. wintermute tells me these are the first quiet moments since i left.
6:30: we start making dinner. p starts crying. i take the first turn bouncing and walking around the apt, singing every song i can think of, since he likes singing, according to his mom. not a ton of good, but it helps.
6:40: my arm falls off. spinach is being sauted, but all i can think of is, please, please don't explode. p is bright red.
6:41: mrs. wintermute takes p. she has some success feeding him. she and i wonder aloud what p has been eating. he weighs about twice as much as i would expect.
6:50-8:00: p alternates cycles of 10 minutes of crying, 2 minutes of smiling, 2 minutes of quiet crying, and then back to 10 minutes of loud crying. dogs around the neighborhood start barking. mrs. w and i take turns cooking and soothing p. we try putting him back in his toddler tray to let him 'self-soothe.' no avail. after the fifth version of 'mr. roboto' with made up words, i sit on the couch.
8:01. p stops crying when he falls asleep. we put him in his little pillow bed, stomach down. wait, mom said face down, right? can he breathe? i'm laying with my face down like a wrestling referee, making sure he can breathe. we text message mom to make sure face down is correct. it is, but we should turn him on his cheek.
dinner is ready.
5:15: p is left with us. all is well as mommy walks out the door.
5:16: p starts crying. i feed him and he's pretty happy.
6:13: i come back from the grocery store. p is in his little toddler play thing (it's like a round thing that he sits in in) and very entertained. mrs. wintermute tells me these are the first quiet moments since i left.
6:30: we start making dinner. p starts crying. i take the first turn bouncing and walking around the apt, singing every song i can think of, since he likes singing, according to his mom. not a ton of good, but it helps.
6:40: my arm falls off. spinach is being sauted, but all i can think of is, please, please don't explode. p is bright red.
6:41: mrs. wintermute takes p. she has some success feeding him. she and i wonder aloud what p has been eating. he weighs about twice as much as i would expect.
6:50-8:00: p alternates cycles of 10 minutes of crying, 2 minutes of smiling, 2 minutes of quiet crying, and then back to 10 minutes of loud crying. dogs around the neighborhood start barking. mrs. w and i take turns cooking and soothing p. we try putting him back in his toddler tray to let him 'self-soothe.' no avail. after the fifth version of 'mr. roboto' with made up words, i sit on the couch.
8:01. p stops crying when he falls asleep. we put him in his little pillow bed, stomach down. wait, mom said face down, right? can he breathe? i'm laying with my face down like a wrestling referee, making sure he can breathe. we text message mom to make sure face down is correct. it is, but we should turn him on his cheek.
dinner is ready.
posted by Wintermute at 8:03 PM
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