Since I’m still exclusively breastfeeding and Baby Evan is still being exclusively stubborn and exclusively refusing a bottle or solids of any kind, baby feeding is a one-woman show around here. When I’m not too exhausted to function, I remember breastfeeding is not going to last forever and we’re creating a special bond that I’m never going to regret. Before I became such a fan of nursing, one of the arguments I’ve heard against breastfeeding is that dads can start to feel left out of the nursing dyad and resent that bond between mama and baby. Although I don’t think there’s any danger of that happening around here (hellooooo no night feedings for Dad!), in the interest of shared parenting and giving E his own special baby bonding time, he is the exclusive manager of all baby bedtimes.

Besides a handful of nights where he was at work, E has done bath, pajamas and rocked Baby Evan to sleep every night for the last 10 months. He’s also home to do about 50% of the naps, although naps are in short supply around here lately. Since he’s had so much practice when it comes to sending the baby off to dream of a land made of boobs, puppies and small pieces of plastic to shove in his mouth, E is the expert. So the same way nursing is my baby go-to mode when the baby is upset, sleeping is E’s baby go-to mode. All the time.

Uh oh, Baby Evan fell on his face? NAP.

Oh dear, the baby’s grumpy because he’s teething. NAP.

If that child doesn’t stop screaming soon my ears are going to start bleeding. NAP.

Dirty Diaper? NAP.

Um, maybe someone should stop the baby from eating that. NAP.

The funny part is these naps have about a 70% success rate even when I didn’t really think the baby was tired. Unfortunately, when sleep ISN’T what the baby needed both Dad and baby end up frustrated and even more upset than when they started. It also means whenever I leave E in charge while I jump in the shower or head to the grocery store I come home to a sleeping baby – a sleeping baby who’s nap I wasted on stupid things like SHOWERS and GROCERY SHOPPING. Time I could have spent doing reckless things like leaving the dishwasher open for more than 30 seconds or sweeping the kitchen or trying to read a magazine without holding it up over my head. You know, getting REALLY WILD.

I suppose complaining that my husband is really good at putting our son to sleep is sort of like complaining my diamond shoes are too tight or this giant tiara is giving me a headache, but hey, we all have our problems.

Although in my current sleepless state it feels like a zillion years ago, it was only early January when I first attempted to night ween Baby Evan. It went pretty well. Not great, but well enough that I was optimistic that things would only get better from there. I was prepared for set backs during new developmental phases but was super relieved I wouldn’t have to go through angry, stressful, cry-it-out sleep training every couple of months. I was not prepared for a baby who forgot absolutely everything about sleep and how to do it.

First we had the horrible vomiting puking disease that made everyone exhausted for 24 hours and then ravenously hungry for a week. No matter how many times we nursed during the day, Baby Evan woke up every 2 hours crying. Between my own exhaustion from the flu and my fear he might be dehydrated I was in no position to wean anyone, so back to night feedings we went.

Then one of his lower incisors started coming in and the paaaaaaaaain was aaaaaaawful. Teething is one of those “developmental milestones” that almost always disrupts sleep routines everything. My happy smiley baby was cranky and angry and spent many an hour wailing and gnashing his teeth gums. The only time he felt better was while he was nursing. So how could I say no?

Now we have almost no schedule. The baby wakes up for two or three feedings between 10 pm and 7 am. Mornings can start any time between 5:30 and 7:30 with no rhyme or reason. Although bedtime is still supposed to happen at 7 every night, when Baby Evan is still chasing the cat, rolling on the dog and throwing every toy he owns on the floor at 6:55 he’s clearly not tired yet so we push it back. Then there’s the mysterious screaming and thrashing that happens 40 minutes after E puts a full-stomached, sound asleep baby in his crib with his blankey. And don’t even get me started on naps. We’re down to one a day – sometimes for 30 minutes, sometimes for 3 hours. I can’t even remember the last time I took a nap but I’m pretty sure it was before Christmas. Or maybe before I gave birth. It feels like it was before Y2K. Or maybe before the invention of electricity. So I would really like to take one some time soon.

The only reason I’m not back to the same angry, miserable person I was the last time we tried sleep weaning is that E has really stepped up. He’s still doing all rocking at bedtimes and every nap when he’s home. He handled the mysterious screaming fit at 8:45 last night and rocked the baby back to sleep after I fed him at 11 pm the night before. And on Sunday mornings I get to sleep in as long as I want until it’s time for church. He understand that one morning a week where I get to pee and brush my teeth without a child hanging off my knees is vital to my sanity and good for our marriage. It also helps that Baby Evan is at a really good age – able to entertain himself for a good chunk of time (when he feels like it) and fun to play with when he needs someone to interact with. I also get mini-breaks during the various playgroups, classes and activities we attend at Papoose because my social butterfly spends the whole time climbing into other mama’s laps. Thank God he’s cute enough no one seems to mind.

I think I’ll probably try the night weaning again in a few weeks but it doesn’t really seem worth it right now. I’m tired but not incredibly exhausted, frustrated but not overly so, and I fear the other incisor is about to make an appearance so it might be hopeless anyway. I think my only hope for night-weaning is ACTUAL weaning, which is so far in the future I’d need a crystal ball to see it. And since my psychic abilities aren’t all that great (but really, who saw that Tiger Woods thing coming? What kind of rich, powerful, famous dude cheats on his wife?!) for now I’m just going to go rest my eyes for a minute.

Baby Evan came out of his bout with the flu RAVENOUSLY HUNGRY and unable to find enough dog hair on the floor to solve this problem. So now it’s my problem. Or more specifically, my boobs’ problem (you don’t even want to know how long I spent on that apostrophe – and I’m still not even sure it’s right). Unfortunately, my boobs are still attached to my chest. I never would have thought of that as unfortunate before I had a kid but my, how the world has changed.

Despite the time and money I invested in the make-my-own-baby-food-plan the baby refuses to play along and actually eat any of it. I’ve mentioned before (and before and before ) how uninterested he is in solids, but I always figured the time would come when he was ready. I figured the time would come at 7 months, and at 8 months, and at 9 months…and now at almost 10 months I’m done figuring. I give up on baby food. That’s right folks, I am not feeding my baby ANY MORE BABY FOOD.

Before you call Child Protective Services, let me explain my NEW plan. It’s NEW, in all caps, so you know it must be good. Well, not new like just invented. Just NEW to Baby Evan and his tired, sore, milk-less mother.

NEW PLAN: Baby-Led Weaning. (For the record, not really weaning – there’s no reduction of milk/formula. I think the creator is British or something and you know how they are with their crazy baby words like “cot” and “push chair”.)

I don’t remember where I first heard about BLW but now I’ve heard of it everywhere. On the interwebs, in my parenting magazines, on the interwebs, from moms I know and trust, on the interwebs. So I finally checked it out and discovered…we already do it. Basically, Baby-Led Weaning is just giving babies baby-sized portions of adult foods. So if you’re having pasta for dinner, you give the baby some pasta. If you’re having tacos for dinner you give the baby avocado and tortillas. If you’re having cereal for dinner you give the baby a banana. Not mushed and pureed and fed with a spoon, just cut up so baby can feed himself (Or not even cut up – Google it for the scientific, no jokes details and safety info on choking and stuff). I started doing it because I was tired of putting a ton a work into preparing baby food just to dump it all down the drain when Baby Evan really just wanted what was on my plate. So basically, laziness. But it turns out I’m not the only lazy mom out there, so it’s LEGITIMATE laziness.

So far the BLW has gone a lot better than the pureed baby food but I still don’t think the baby is actually EATING. My suspicions are based on a) the fact he nursed every half hour all day yesterday and b) THIS:

Oh hey, I just discovered gravity and it's super fun!

That mess on the floor is dinner: an entire banana and 3/4 of an avocado. It landed exactly where lunch (half a mango) did a few hours earlier. My dog is now eating better quality, more nutrient rich food than most human beings. Oh well, I’ll keep trying.

On Friday I had my first experience with projectile vomit. Now I understand what the doctor meant when I kept bringing in my infant saying, “He’s throwing up! There’s something wrong!” and the pediatrician kept saying “No no no, that’s nothing. Trust me, you’ll know.” AND NOW I KNOW. Boy do I know. And since I would like to keep all my lovely readers, I won’t even tell you about the diapers. Let’s just say whatever bug is inside my poor little munchkin his body REALLY wants it out.

Since Baby Evan is still on uncertain terms with the sippy cup, I spent most of Saturday trying to force liquids down his throat.  He doesn’t like nursing when he’s sick (which I think is ridiculously ironic – isn’t the whole point of nursing that it’s supposed to be comforting?) so he’s not getting much of anything in his system. I’m terrified he’s going to get dehydrated and end up in the hospital where the doctors will all frown at me and say “What do you mean he doesn’t eat food? What do you mean he doesn’t take a bottle? You can’t possibly have nursed him every feeding for the last 10 months.” Because even I will admit that sounds a little crazy. True, but crazy. Plus I haven’t yet figured out how to get Pedialyte into my boobs so the best I can do for a vomiting baby is a little juice in a sippy of water and hope he accidentally swallows some of it while he chews on it. He’s still having wet diapers so I’m not panicked yet but if things don’t improve by tomorrow morning I’ll have to make an appointment.

In true motherhood fashion, just when the baby starts feeling better I get catch the same horrible germs. Again, I’ll do you a favor by skipping specifics but lets just say the symptoms might be even more unpleasant in a non-diaper wearing adult. I managed to wait until the babe was asleep before collapsing in a miserable, feverish heap Saturday night but just barely. My temperature fluctuated so much I felt like a Katy Perry song, first lying on the floor in my bra complaining I was burning up and then huddling under the blankets begging E to turn up the heat. I spent most of the night lying on the bathroom floor because the cold felt good on my face (uh, and also so I could throw up in a more appropriate place than the kitchen).  A whole Sunday of misery brings me to this morning, where I’m getting by on a diet of Mountain Dew and several gallons of water, trying to stay awake while I watch the baby torture pet the cat.  My parenting today is going to be more “keep the baby alive” and less “stimulate his mind and development”, but I’m ok with that. Even Super Moms need sick days.

Weight: 22 lbs on the dot (above average)
Height: 28 1/2 inches (average)
Head circumference:  46 cm (above average, “Which is good” my pediatrician said, “so he doesn’t look like a weirdo. Because his weight is above average too.”)

We had a different doctor today, one I had never met before but I immediately liked based solely on the fact that he shares a name with a certain TV sitcom paleontologist. Let’s call him Dr. G. I thought about asking how Rachel was doing but figured it wasn’t good to piss off the guy in charge of sticking my baby with needles. Alas, it didn’t do me any good since he still suggested we finish Baby Evan’s Hep B series AND talked me into the H1N1 shot. You know I was on the fence about it back in October at his 6 month appointment but it became a moo point (like a cow’s opinion)  when the office didn’t have their doses yet. But after The Great Sickness of 2009 (which I’m not totally convinced WASN’T H1N1) I’ll do anything to keep Baby Evan from suffering though another week of misery.

Besides his name, I also liked Dr. G based on his total support of breastfeeding. He said he knew my lactation consultant well, referred new moms to Papoose for support all the time and used to be very active in La Leche League. His own wife nursed their children until they were 2 1/2 and he said as long as I was happy doing it I should definitely continue nursing Baby Evan past a year.  Instead of asking “Where does the baby sleep?” he just asked “How’s the baby sleeping? Do you lay him down on his back?” And hold on to your hats, AP mamas, but he also said bed-sharing was a great idea as long as E and I were comfortable with the situation. He and his wife bed-shared until their son was FOUR (although the story he then told about kicking his son out after he vomited ON HIS FACE one night made me pretty glad Baby Evan likes his crib). He’s my new favorite doctor at the practice and I’m going to make a point of asking for him in the future.

In other news, the trauma of being stuck with TWO GIANT ENORMOUS MASSIVE SHARP HORRIBLE PAINFUL POISON-COATED NEEDLES disrupted Baby Evan’s sleep patten enough that he woke up twice last night. It may also have been because we forgot to feed him any solids yesterday (oops) so he needed the calories. I will not make the same mistake again today, and plan to offer a six-course baby meal tonight (sweet potato, avocado, applesauce, teething biscuit, baby cheese puffs and yogurt) so he’ll be nice and full at 7 pm. Mama likes her sleep.