Mother’s Day Edition

Today is my first Mother’s Day. It was important to Allen that I feel special and loved. He forgets that I feel special and loved every day, even though I tell him. He made me a delicious dinner and procured me a special beer for post-baby bed time. It was a lazy day with nothing all too eventful. And that made it perfect. Allen and I even took a blanket outside in the afternoon and laid down in the shade of a tree to read while Henry was napping. Now, Henry, on the other hand, decided to make my day special by not being his usual pleasant little boy self. Today he had some stomach trouble that kept him a bit grumpy and unable to fall asleep easy all day. Today, Henry really needed me. And you know what? That’s a pretty freakin’ great Mother’s Day present. One day he won’t need me any more (at least not like this) and just thinking about that day brings tears to my eyes. But right now, in this moment, when he is fussy and kicking his legs in gassy frustration, I can hold him and love him. Does it help his tummy issues? No. Not at all. But does he know he’s loved? Absolutely. So both my boys made this day everything it should be – it was perfection. 

And since it has been awhile (turns out my burning need to write is decreasing – wonder if it is directly related to the increase in my bond with that little man and an increase in my comfort level navigating this mom thing… or…I’m lazy), here are a few other tid bits, funnies, and a surgery update.

Henry is starting to be a pretty predictable little dude who needs a regular bedtime. So, around 8:00ish I head up to his room and lay out his pajamas, makes sure the swaddle wrap is laid out in the crib, turn on the monitor, and turn on the little fan. I’m a creature of habit and I am very driven by what makes things easiest for me. Allen finds this trait funny and, at times, annoying. It kind of makes me crazy when my little nighttime routine is interrupted. Or I get upstairs and the pajamas aren’t out and Henry is half asleep in my arms. There is a REASON for my crazy! …most of the time. The other night I got Henry into pajamas, fed him, swaddled him, and picked him up for a little rocking before laying him back down. He was pretty well asleep, but not fully asleep (he’s at the age where we’re trying to put him in the crib still a little bit awake so he can get used to getting himself to sleep) and I started to lean down to put him in the crib and the stupid freakin’ little pacifier fell out of my mouth and hit the monster square in the face. My heart stopped. Panic flooded through every inch of my body. The need for panic was confirmed when his little eyes popped wide open and he had this look of shear bewilderment on this face. “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? WHAT EXACTLY IS THE THIS THAT YOU JUST DID TO ME? NEVERMIND! I DON’T CARE! I AM MAD!” Rightfully so, little man. Rightfully so. 10 minutes later I had him calmed and mostly sleepy again. I did not have the pacifier in my mouth when I put him down the second time. Lesson learned. 

Henry is a fantastic sleeper. I mean, so good. I get worried about telling people about how good he is in fear of jeopardizing what we’ve got going on. At three months, he is regularly sleeping in 8-9 hour stretches. And he’s been sleeping in nice long stretches (like 5 hours and more) since about 6 weeks. The other night I put him to sleep around 8 and he got up at 1:30. 5.5 hours. That is by no means a terrible stretch of sleep. Except it is to me now! (Yes yes, I do realize how annoying this sounds, but that is why I’m saying it because I realize how ridiculous it is). So when I got up to feed him all I could think about was how little sleep I’d gotten and how weird it was for him to be getting up. And then I felt guilty for feeling that way because there are lots of parents that would kill for a 5.5 hour stretch of sleep! 

When I do get up to feed him in the wee hours of the morning, it is time I cherish quite a bit. I don’t love getting up, but once I’m in there I do very much enjoy hanging out with the little guy. I have very strict nighttime rules, of course, where I do not talk to Henry or engage with him other than changing his diaper and feeding him. This has recently become problematic because: a) he now responds to my smiles and it is really hard not to smile at him being adorable at 3:00am. So he smiles back and sometimes chats. I try really hard to ignore this. It is difficult. b) he is becoming a proficient burper. The problem is that he starts to fall asleep at the end of nursing so when I go to burp him and the burp comes so quickly and ferociously that he jolts himself wide awake while looking all around in a panic to figure out where the sound came from. Then I stifle a laugh and smile. And that leads to a), outlined above. Turns out, babies are pretty hilarious. 

Lastly, Henry’s surgery is scheduled for May 28th. 2.5 more weeks of waiting! The doctor and nurse we met with seem extremely competent and caring. They both assured us that this is a minor procedure (out patient) and that most babies do not exhibit signs of distress or discomfort later that day. Those little monsters are resilient! I am doing my best not to focus on the surgery, but rather on the Henry getting what he needs part. I don’t love the idea of the little guy being put under, but I understand the risks involved are minimal. And in the end, this is what he needs so this is what we will do to ensure his future health. They will go in laparoscopically through his bellybutton and take care of the urachal cyst shenanigans. Henry likely won’t even have a scar. He doesn’t even have to miss daycare the following day (but he is scheduled to be home with Allen, anyway, and I am thankful for that JUST IN CASE). So, there you have it… surgery is no big deal. 

I’m going to use photo grids as a sneaky way to get more pictures of Henry into your life. I’m shameless, I know.



Tummy time! Henry is a really great sport about tummy time. You can tell he doesn’t love it by the type of chirping he does, but he rarely cries. 




The boy LOVES his swing. Okay, he only loves it so long as it isn’t swinging. So he can stare at himself in the mirror. Fine fine. Henry likes to stare at himself in the mirror. The swing is just a mean to an end. He’s a little narcissistic. 




Chubby faced little smiles. This is what we wake up to every morning. 




Hands are DELISH.