We’ve been trying everything we can think of to alleviate the evening screaming sessions. Eliminating garlic and caffeine did not work. We tried block nursing based on an article over at kellymom.com, which is a fabulous breastfeeding resource, but with mixed results. The screaming continued unabated, but I have been less engorged lately. I’m experimenting with my diet now, to see if it’s maybe something I’m eating. Most common allergens are things I don’t normally eat anyway, but I do eat a ton of eggs, so today’s my second day without them. Last night we had a mere one-hour cranky time, and without the all-out goatlike screaming. We’ll see what a few more days without eggs are like.
Yesterday morning, the boy rolled over, all by himself. Probably a fluke: he’s only five weeks old. He did have a slight downhill slope in his favor, where my husband was sitting on the bed. He was lying on his belly, bobbing around, and lurched over with his head and shoulders. A couple of minutes of kicking made his legs follow. He smiled and smiled, looking awfully proud of himself. Then he did it again this morning– and it looked much more deliberate. Whoa!
On the pottying front, things are burbling right along. We still catch a few and miss more, but the total absence of diaper rash is payment enough. The process is, however, melting my brain. A day or two ago, when he made his little cranky noises and I actually noticed and put him on the potty and he promptly let loose with a gigantic poop. And I actually (I kid you not) uttered the word “pooperstar”. Enough said.
Breastfeeding… those pastel drawings with the mama in 1900s dress looking angelic and absorbed in her sweetly suckling infant: they lie. We like to nurse lying down because the babe is so darn heavy already. When he lies on his right side he drips a constant stream of milk out of his right nostril. It doesn’t seem to bother him, but it’s hard to keep from making puddles on the sheets, and by the end of the week, there’s a definite sour-milk funk in the bed. Lately, he’s been getting attacks of the monster farts. He’s not scared of his own farts anymore, but they still make him uncomfortable, so when he’s farting, he wants to nurse. And while he’s nursing, he writhes around and kicks at me and flails his arms and farts loudly and frequently.
I am undergoing a massive hair-shedding. It was expected, and I haven’t developed any bald spots, or reached that cancer-patient coming-out-in-handfuls stage. The funnier thing is the baby’s hair loss. He has been going bald from front to back, and now he’s got a severely receding hairline. I expect this means his light brown fuzz will be replaced, eventually, by a cornsilk mop like I had as a child– after the black hair I was born with fell out.