Linnea is six weeks old this week. She started to smile at people and her little body is filing out and she is working on a wicked double chin. People are always chortling to me about how little sleep I am probably getting. It’s true. She’s a little baby who needs to eat every 2-4 hours. I get that. No problem. It’s when you have to get up and change her diaper and turn on a light that things get nasty.
I wake up and discover that I am bathed in baby vomit and urine. I wake Keith up to change her. He takes the baby and stumbles into the bathroom.
That stupid little lamp fell and broke. I have to turn on the overhead light.
Nooooo! Not the overhead baby waking light of 3AM doom!
Yes. That one.
I turn over in my pee/vomit sheets and try to get 4 minutes of sleep before I have to nurse and try to get Linnea back to sleep.
They’re back. She’s wearing nothing but a diaper and an open necked floral onesie.
I thought you were putting pajamas on her!
These are not pajamas!
You told me they were on the shelf!
Not that shelf! The other shelf!
Baby is rooting and grunting.
I haul her back to the bathroom and put on her pajamas. I bring her out to the living room and nurse her. She vomits on me. She’s wide awake. Let’s hang out! She says. She wants to eat snacks and show me this YouTube video.
And then rock and bounce and dance and do aerobics for an hour and a half. By 8AM every morning, she is sound asleep, though, so that’s good.