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Ode to The Baby

June 15, 2017

I’m sorry. I really apologize for this. I have turned into one them. One of those grandmothers who won’t shut up about their grand kid.

The physical, emotional connection I instantly felt for this kid equalled what I felt for my own children. Okay maybe not that much, but pretty fucking close.

I can’t get enough of holding him. He has big, weird dark, blue, alien eyes and he’s starting to make weird faces. He makes circles with his lips and when he starts to fall asleep his eyes go back in his head and he starts looking around the room like he sees something we can’t see. Suddenly he will smile, like an invisible force is making him laugh. Supposedly he’s not supposed to be able to smile at this point, but it sure does look like a smile.

His new thing is grunting. It reminds me of my Dad. My brother used to call our dad, FrankenDaddy because he said cajun words with a guttural deep voice. When The Baby turns his head and arches his back and lets out a long, strong grunt, it really sounds like he’s saying, “arrête ça.” 

Sometimes between feedings, he just stays awake, cooing and complaining and sticking his tongue out and looking around and flinging his hands up then around and down on the matt  while his feet go in then out over and over and over.

I could watch him for hours. Every day there’s a new thing.

I love to give him a bath. I don’t know why because he cries the whole time. There’s something about getting him all clean and wrapping him up in a warm towel, fresh from the dryer and holding him close, talking to him, consoling him, then putting lotion all over his skin, putting him in some fresh clothes and bringing him to his mom, smelling all fresh. I love it.

Yesterday Lori came back from The Baby’s second doctor’s appointment. He warned her about not getting enough consecutive hours of sleep. She scoffed at the idea since The Baby eats every 2-3 hours and in between he lies in his crib grunting and vocalizing, keeping her awake.

“Give him to me.” I said. “I’ll do it. Just put his little box in my room and as long as we have enough food, I’ll take care of him all night and you can sleep.”

We had our own little sleep over. I fed him at 10:30pm, then he lay awake looking around and doing the arm thing for a while. When he got fussy with gas or stomach aches, I picked him up and help him close until he farted or pooped it out. Then I’d change his disgusting toxic waste and he’d sleep for a while. After the 1:30am feeding he slept a bit longer. During one of his diaper changes, when his little pee-pee felt the cold air, he spewed out a steady stream of pee, arcing onto the bathroom floor, while squirting onto the towel a disgusting splurt of chicken-poo looking swirl. The little shit. I disinfected the bathroom while he grunted in his little crib box.

By the time he woke up again, it was about 4:40am. We were down to his last bottle of breast milk and I was worried that if Lori didn’t wake up soon and pump, I’d have to go into the formula reserves. I didn’t want her to be upset for breaking the breast milk cycle. So, first I tried to text her, “Time to pump?” Then I bundled up the little monster and put him in the crib in their room. I knew he’d function as a mini-alarm clock. Before long, he’d start grunting and making noises and she would wake up.

Sure enough around 5am, she came into my room, came next to me and hugged me for letting her sleep so long and then she went off to get more milk into bottles and I went to sleep.

Now, I find myself with conflicting feelings about being in Lori’s house. She’s obviously glad I’m there. She joked the other day that I can’t move out until The Baby is 3. But it’s been three months now and my psyche is desperate for my own space around my own things.

When I hold The Baby in my arms and Lori is getting much needed rest, I feel certain that I’ve done the right thing. But other times, I can’t believe I still don’t have a job, I’m not sure I really like this area and I’m worried about how long it’s taking to get some independence. I miss Lafayette like crazy and I’m not entirely sure I’ve made the right move.

I guess we’ll see.



From → Rantings

One Comment
  1. I think the hug from Lori she’s you did make the right move. Priceless.

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