getting measurably older

One month old already! It is hard to believe, until I look at the bags under my eyes.

It is crazy how this little guy has completely infiltrated my life. I think I remember what life was like without him, but hardly. I vaguely remember a full night's sleep, daily grooming routines and brushing my teeth three times a day, a house without baby junk all over it, a full time job that only required 8.5 hours a day five days a week, a day without a headache, life before a backache, and conversation with other grown-ups about grown-up stuff.
As tough as some days are, things don't seem quite so bad. By ten o'clock at night I have Jake in a bassinet next to me, and I can hear him cooing himself to sleep. The cats are curled up together in the corner of my bed. And I am thoroughly exhausted, and totally deserving of the next two hours of rest.

Then midnight comes and all hell breaks loose again. Jake needs fed, which makes my back hurt if I don't have the right combination of pillows now that he is getting bigger. I have to find some water, because nursing makes you feel horribly parched and turn on the tv and a light because the same hormones that make you thirsty make you really tired. Then he eats for about an hour or so, and I struggle to stay awake to burp him and change him and watch him go to sleep. And just as I start to get groggy, I have to pee really bad from all the water I just drank. Any time I am frustrated with nursing him, I think of the alternative- taking the time to go downstairs and make bottles in the middle of the night that he may or may not take, cleaning up puke (and the resulting stains) from the formula, dealing with colic, ear infections, and diapers filthier than any human should be allowed to handle without a Hazmat team. I am a self-contained vending machine... no haste, no waste. Feeding a newborn is frustrating no matter how you do it. At least I have convenience on my side. And breastfeeding keeps me from drinking whiskey to cope with the madness.

Jake is starting to be more alert and aware of his surroundings. We all know how much he loves his monkey buddies and swing, but now he likes rattles, getting a bath, his baby gym, and has taken an interest in the cats. He can raise his head up when he is lying on his belly or against our shoulders and take a look around at his little world. I am looking forward to the next month, when we should finally start getting feedback from him. The best he gives us now is crying or not crying, sleeping or not sleeping. Just as I predicted, as soon as he found his voice, he began using it loudly.

I try to get out daily, although that never happens before two o'clock due to feedings and crankiness, both mine and his. Jake and I are practicing with the baby carriers. He loves his sling, but the regular baby carriers seem more convenient. As I sit here typing, Jake is strapped to my torso, deciding whether to be happy or miserable. The stroller is nice, but it is really big and heavy and not conducive to everywhere I need to go. On nicer days, we pack everything up in there and go about our business. On crappy days, we fight with the carseat and traffic.

Daily showers are mandatory. It is the only time I get to myself. At first I strapped Jake into his carseat and sat it in the bathroom so I could check on him every few seconds. Now it is every man for himself. As soon as all bellies are full, I strip down and jump in. I let kitties and babies lie where they fall. If he is still quiet when I get out, I attempt to comb my hair and brush my teeth. Sometimes he even lets me find some clean clothes to wear, but mostly I am just picking yesterday's stuff off the floor and throwing that on.

It helps that Jake is decidedly cute, despite the baby acne and his pervasive ricotta cheese smell. I was overwhelmed with emotion yesterday when I opened the cheese container to make lasagna. I actually had to leave the kitchen to give him a kiss. Today I can't even get to the kitchen because all he wants to do is eat and be held. It is one of those days where it isn't really worth wearing a shirt, and going to the bathroom or to get something to eat comes at the price of screaming. I guess that means he is growing, and that is always a good sign.

My 31 day trial period is up, and I guess I'll keep him.