Nobody tells you the truth. Every parent upends buckets of advice upon the new parent’s head, because, not for nothing, they’ve accumulated knowledge both good and bad that they feel is best to share. But what they never tell you as you’re building a crib or painting a nursery or buying a small desert island comprising a hundred boxes of Pampers Swaddlers is this:
“You’re building the walls of your own prison. And the baby, the baby is the warden. Oh, he’s a cherub-cheeked warden, all right. He’s cute. Chipmunk cheeks packing love and adorability the way real chipmunks store acorns. But don’t misunderstand. He’ll run you ragged. He’ll punish you when you least expect it. And you can’t predict it. Can’t understand it. Because what we got here… is a failure to communicate.”
* * *
The way this kid eats and destroys our sleep, he should be a goddamn Batman villain.
The Catnap Killer. Doctor Hypnos. Mister Dozer.
The Sinister Sandboy.
* * *
Seems right now he’s maybe going through a growth spurt. That’s what all the Internet forums say. Of course, all the Internet forums say we’re probably three days away from accidentally smothering our child with crib bumpers or improbably infecting him with some kind of Baby Smallpox. The Internet is rarely a place to find sanity, but even still: most concur that three weeks is the time of a growth spurt, but right now it just feels like the only thing that’s growing is the child’s propensity to be a tiny pink dictator.
(And remember, the root word of “dictator” is “dick.”)
Yesterday it’s like someone stuck a crank in his back and just kept on winding it.
Cranky, cranky, cranky.
Oh, the tears.
The screams.
The lobster-faced apoplexy.
He wants to eat. All the time. GIVE ME THE BOOB, tiny dictator cries. He pounds the teat the way a frothing professor pounds his lectern. He grabs for it with witch nails. He draws it close in his taloned grip.
You know he’s hungry. Because he’ll try to eat anything. He shark-bites his own fists. He’ll gum my thumb. He’ll even try to eat my beard. Which is not recommended in any of the baby books. Especially since I save food in my beard like a diligent hobo should.
It’s every hour. The storm of cluster feeding.
With each lightning strike, the baby descends once more to feed.
The lone piranha must eat enough for his whole concatenation.
* * *
We’re supplementing. With formula. Doctor’s orders. He wasn’t gaining enough weight, she said. I mean, he wasn’t some tiny peanut, either, some little kewpie doll. But of course he didn’t conform to somebody’s magical chart that says ALL BABIES ARE LIKE THIS ALWAYS FOREVER AND EVER. Those that don’t conform to the Chart of Truth must submit for re-education immediately. She scares us with the comment, “We don’t want him to have a failure to thrive.” A failure to thrive sounds like the next thing to, y’know, death. “This is our child: the limp weed that clings to life but never flourishes. Don’t hug him too closely. He may crumble like an over-baked cookie.”
With formula, he did gain weight and gain length. (And not all of it in his penis. BA-DUM-BUM. I’m here all week. Don’t forget to try the swordfish. And the vodka.)
Even still, after two weeks of gaining, the doc still wants us to supplement.
Then we wonder: maybe she’s a shill for the formula companies. She goes home and goes into her bedroom and rolls around on all that sweet-ass Similac money. Big Formula sends her kids to school.
You look online — remember: never a good idea — breastfeeding advocates will make it very clear that supplementing is a death sentence. That we can now expect our child to be a rubicund, languid fatty sitting on a throne made of Happy Meals, his body lubricated by the grease of French Fries, his toddler diabetes running rampant through him like a wildfire. I’m surprised nobody’s linked it to autism yet. That’s another fun one. In the baby world, everything causes autism. Mercury. HFCS. Plastic toys. Chinese nipples. Funny looks from Mom. Dog hair. Oaken cribs. Rain on Tuesdays.
So, we straddle worlds between breast milk and formula.
Pariahs to both.
* * *
Formula makes him gassy. Where before his poop smelled like buttered popcorn drizzled with caramel (no, really), now it smells more like, well, poop. He’s gassy like an old man is gassy. After eating Brussel sprouts. And his own poop. I don’t even know how the tiny human can be this gassy. I couldn’t let that much air out of a balloon. Formula helps to defeat a child’s protective defense. A baby’s breast-fed effluence smells pleasant so we don’t decide, “You know what? This kid stinks, I’m going to go throw him in a river somewhere.” Formula removes that protection. It’s good we don’t have a river nearby.
* * *
I kid, of course. I would never throw my child in a river.
I would put him in a box labeled FREE KITTENS.
Or maybe that’s not exotic enough.
FREE PANDA.
Much better.
* * *
Oh, wait — look! A website that suggests both formula and breastfeeding could cause autism.
*punches the Internet*
* * *
We are, like most parents, deeply concerned about SIDS. Everything is SIDS this, SIDS that. Everything “causes” SIDS. Don’t do this. Don’t do that. No crib bumpers. No toys. No crib sheet. If you don’t appease the beast with the ritual sleeping configuration, it shall steal into your home at the stroke of midnight and steal thine child’s breath, and it shall use the stolen breath as a perfume for his own shadowy daughters.
Or something.
Don’t let him sleep in bed. Don’t let him sleep in the car seat. Don’t let him sleep duct-taped to the ceiling. Don’t let him sleep in a lion’s mouth. (Well who else is going to clean the lion’s teeth?)
They say, no sleep positioners. Of course, our nurse tells us to feel free to prop him up with rolled up blankets — a no-no in SIDSlandia — and in propping him up we’re stopping him from rolling over and, y’know, contracting SIDS. So in attempting to defeat the demon we are simultaneously inviting the demon into our home. SIDS if you do. SIDS if you don’t.
Some people say that our baby shouldn’t be able to roll over yet.
They don’t know our baby. The kid is like a tumbling boulder chasing after Indiana Jones.
They say, well, then, swaddle him. Swaddle him up tight.
They still don’t know our baby. Our baby is fucking Houdini. He’s not supposed to be able to get his arms free? Fuck you, he can get his arms free. He flexes his body, wriggling and writhing, until finally one hand sneaks out the top like a worm popping out of an apple. And with one free it’s not long before the other is free, too — a pair of Devil’s hands undoing all our good work. And inviting the SIDS angel with a come-hither finger.
This is one time when the Internet actually helped lessen my fear. I decided to actually look up SIDS, and it’s not what everyone seems to think it is. It’s very rare. It’s a diagnosis of exclusion. It also necessitates that other factors be in play beyond merely, “Oh, shit, I let my baby sleep on his tummy and OH GOD THE SHADOW MAN CAME AT NIGHT AND STOLE HIS ESSENCE.”
I’m not saying you shouldn’t protect against it, but it feels like I’m shouting at the tides.
* * *
We have people over who want to see him, and nine times out of ten he’s in a coma when they get here. Sure. Fine. Nice. That’s when he sleeps. I say to them, he’s like the tigers at the zoo. You go to the zoo you want to see the tigers doing all kinds of bitchin’ tiger shit. Chasing goats. Eating Himalayan explorers. Playing with a massive ball of yarn. Watching funny cat videos on the Internet.
But when you get there, all they’re doing is sleeping on a rock.
B-Dub is like that. When you get here to the Baby Zoo, he’s gone. Oblivious to the world.
Dull as a saucer of cold milk.
* * *
Just moments ago, his reward for a long cluster feeding session was to throw up on his mother.
I suspect this will be a theme for the next 18 years.
“Thanks for the car keys, Dad. To pay you back I stole your Laphroaig Scotch. Dude, that stuff tastes like the burned pubes of a swamp hag. Also, I threw up in the glove compartment. See ya!” VROOOM.
* * *
I say all this but the reality is, it’s worth it. All the spit-up and screaming and arcs of golden urine and sleeplessness and madness. All of it does little to defeat his puckish smiles, his big eyes, his searching tiny fingers, his waggling monkey toes, his look he gets when he sleeps where he laughs like he’s remembering a joke he heard (“remember when I was coming out of the womb? yeah, good times”), his discovery of his feet, his coos and burbles, his gurgles and coyote yips, his funny faces, his Daddy look where he cocks one eyebrow and looks at you like you’ve lost your goddamn mind, his squirms and wiggles and flails.
All of it, the sheer measure of adorability.
Like a baby seal, we cannot club him.
* * *
“I said, what we have here is a failure to communic OH MY GOD YOU ARE SO CUTE I WANT TO PINCH YOUR CHEEKS AND PUT BUTTER ON THEM AND EAT THEM UP NOM NOM NOM.”
I guess we’re keeping him.
Natalie says:
You lie, Wendig. EVERYONE tells you how hard it will be when you have a baby. How it will change your life and the baby will take over and you will never sleep again or get to go to the toilet alone or eat a hot meal for the next 18 years or so. But you just didn’t believe them, did you. Oh sure, it will change my life a bit. But we’ll just roll with it, no problems. We’ll be fine. You’re all exaggerating.
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
June 13, 2011 — 12:52 AM
Michael LaRocca says:
Hi Chuck. Just because I don’t comment on all these baby posts doesn’t mean I don’t love the hell out of reading them. I’m just at a loss for words, which is a lovely thing for an author to admit.
June 13, 2011 — 1:47 AM
Lindsay Mawson says:
Just want to say,
I. Know. How. You. Feel.
Many of us here do.
Stop going on the internet (hard I know). People had babies long before the internet existed, and the human race has somehow survived all these years.
The internet is full of snobs as much as it is informative parents, and many of those snobs haven’t even had kids. My childless brother decided to lecture me the other day on how to speak to children to get them to learn better (no “gootchie gootchie goo”s) and in his words, “Don’t get so stressed out. Zoe’s so cute. How can she stress you out?” If he didn’t live an hour away, I’d have gone postal on his ass.
Every parent says this one thing, because it’s generally true: in a few weeks, you’ll have a system in place, regulations that the warden has taught you to follow and you didn’t even know it. Things will be second nature. And he won’t sleep on the job as much. He may actually do some prime entertaining.
That is all.
June 13, 2011 — 6:49 AM
Julie says:
That system that falls into place is part doing what you have to do and part simply getting used to the new reality.
Reading this it sounded like our first few weeks with Jonas. Complete with rolling over early.
People make up shit to explain things for which they have no explanation. Always have (GOD HATES ME and that’s why I got this zit on my nose on prom night) and always will. Thing is, a lot of study findings don’t seem to present all of the other variables involved.
Do kids become obese when drinking formula? I’m sure some do. But what’s their household lifestyle? Both of our kids were formula kids, as was @Jennyquarx’s son, and our kids have always been slim and active. No ear infections as infants. I could go on, but…
A parent’s main job is to make sure their baby is getting fed, kept dry, and loved. Whatever you need to do to make sure your baby is fed and growing is fine, and if that’s breast only, supplementation, or formula only, it doesn’t matter. The job is to keep him fed.
If you two aren’t keeping a daily journal, I’d suggest you start. Just jot things down. In Word or wherever. The first thing it will help with is letting you go back and recognize patterns such as when he spits up, when he gets very upset, and other helpful things you won’t necessarily pick up in your haze of exhaustion. The second thing it will help with is months down the line (or years) you’ll read over it and realize that you made it through it all, and things are just fine.
Sending all three of you love.
June 13, 2011 — 7:45 AM
Darlene Underdahl says:
The baby is alert and active. Get as much sleep as you can. You’ll be fine.
I had a little friend who managed to fall down the cement steps into the church basement every Sunday. He rolled, he bounced, he giggled, he never got hurt, except for a bruise on his forehead now and then. I think your son is one of those.
Food for thought… I once knew identical triplets. Triplets! Why did Mother Nature double down on one twin but not the other? They really were identical.
June 13, 2011 — 8:33 AM
T.W.Wombat says:
The Internet is neurosis personified. Or systemified. Whatever.
Point is, you know your kid. The Internet doesn’t. Do what you feel is right and go from there. You can find advice to justify anything you do online except possibly duct taping your child to the ceiling, though technically that falls under “swaddling”.
June 13, 2011 — 8:33 AM
Doyce says:
Simple fact about the formula hate; most of it’s based on the formula that existed in the 60s. The formula today is, actually, pretty great. It’s not breastmilk-milk great, but it’s still pretty goddamn good.
And, huge surprise, people did pretty well on the 60s stuff, too.
With my daughter, breastfeeding was absolutely impossible, due to her mom’s medical history. With Sean, we tried, but holy christ it was a nightmare of stress and doubt and mommy’s self-recriminations. Aside from anything else, getting on formula saved our sanity. “You’re hungry? Whattaya know! We have food immediately available for you!” Pretty goddamn magical, that.
(Also, for what it’s worth, using some formula lets dad in on the feeding times, which is kinda nice.)
….
Jesus, like you need MORE advice. I’m sorry, I’ll shut up.
Except for this:
The kid sleeps when people come over? FanTAStic! Hand him to them, mutter something about “don’t let him swallow his tongue” and go take a fucking nap.
You can socialize in 2012.
June 13, 2011 — 9:02 AM
Julie says:
I hereby declare Doyce King of Wisdom for his last two sentences.
My husband was 25 pounds at 4.5 mos, but his formula was evaporated milk, water, and vitamins added to it. He was also a Fat Kid until he was about 7.
So Doyce wins for pointing that out, too. Rich born in 1963.
June 13, 2011 — 9:12 AM
Aiwevanya says:
I don’t know for a fact, but I strongly suspect that the formula leads to obesity thing has to do with the simple fact that formula is always available 24/7, don’t know what’s wrong with the kid? can always try formula, on the other hand mummy only makes new milk so fast, you know?
Anyway, my sister had a similar problem, what she found was that towards the end of the day she was just so worn out she wasn’t producing milk fast enough to keep her baby quiet, which was having a knock on effect that she was then even more tired later and so it went on. What she did was start giving one formula feed a day at the same time each day (early evening, I think), it gave her just enough break that her body could catch up and then she could continue to breast feed the rest of the time.
Not saying that you have to copy of course, just that that worked for her.
June 13, 2011 — 9:34 AM
terribleminds says:
Yeah, we’re supplementing — a little formula in morning and evening, and the sweet teat the rest of the time.
I don’t demonize formula. Whatever it takes to get the kid fed. Obviously the majority of folks are formula-fed and we’re not a nation of fat idiots.
…
Well, okay, never mind that last part, but even still, it’s all good. I think one owes it to their child to *attempt* breastfeeding or to breastfeed *somewhat* because breast-juice gives a lot of great benefits you won’t see with formula.
My point was merely that — and this is one I’ve echoed in the past — NOBODY knows what the fuck is the right idea except, essentially, the parents of the child for whom they’re seeking wisdom.
— c.
June 13, 2011 — 9:41 AM
Cara says:
I think my ped said it best… Do whatever works for you for breastfeeding/ formula. I was lucky to be able to breastfeed a long time with my first but am struggling with 2nd. Anyway, growth charts and weight charts do not mean much. As long as he is fed and happy! Obviously already turning over means good development!!!
As for SIDS, my mom is sleep specialist for kids who has worked with a lot of researchers. Of course avoid blankets etc but room temp is most important! Don’t stress too much!!!
And agree with Doyce… Invite people over, have a quick cocktail and TAKE A NAP!
June 13, 2011 — 9:41 AM
Andrew says:
Yeah, the pull of the internet for some kind of answer is so strong. My daughter is doing X, and I have to find out why. But the great thing is that the longer you look, you find all kinds answers. Its both normal and abnormal. A sign of her great achievement and a sure sign she will be a anti-social sloth. I choose A!
Also, I don’t know if it will help you, but we always used swaddling techniques with the arms out to begin with. Our hospital staff told us to not do so would be like sending an invitation to a swarm of stinging bees to take care of our child. Might help, I dunno.
Also, in that movie Babies, the Mongolian mom used rope to tie up her little boy. I’m just saying, you could do worse than raising a child like Asashouryu
June 13, 2011 — 9:41 AM
terribleminds says:
@Andrew:
Haha, yeah, in BABIES the African mother had her kids crawling around in the dirt and in streams and those kids seemed happy and healthy as all-get-out.
Re: swaddling, we’re looking into some “swaddling mechanisms,” like, say, a robot, or a swaddling goblin.
Or a swaddle suit.
— c.
June 13, 2011 — 9:45 AM
Dan Powell says:
All three of ours fed on a mix of boob and breast and not one of them has failed to thrive or turned into ‘a rubicund, languid fatty sitting on a throne made of Happy Meals.’ Truth be told they are thriving at our expense, in every sense of the word, and like you are finding with your bundle of poopy joy, we wouldn’t have it any other way.
Loved the post. Brought back so many memories of the early days with each one of our trio.
June 13, 2011 — 9:51 AM
Bruce H. Johnson says:
It’s a SATANIC plot! They look so innocent, suck you into their world, then CRAP all over you. It’s a CONSPIRACY!. Bwahahahaha!
Went through two of them. Fortunately that’s been almost 30 years ago and you know that time wounds all heels.
June 13, 2011 — 10:13 AM
Liz C. says:
Our daughter was seemingly the only baby in the hospital that LOATHED being swaddled. Either my womb was so cavernous that she found swaddling too restrictive, or some babies just dislike being swaddled.
Rock on, parents. It will all turn out well! (We don’t know how; it’s a mystery.)
June 13, 2011 — 10:31 AM
Jennifer says:
Julie asked me to come here and read this. I remember this. Just feed your kid. If you really want to go exclusively breast milk, contact the lactation consultant at the hospital or La Leche League. They will be helpful and understanding. I was unable to breastfeed and my exclusively formula fed child hasn’t grown a third eye yet. Formula is okay too.
I just wanted to offer my words of encouragement. Trust your instincts and do what is right for your family. Try not to worry about things too much (which is a silly thing to say. Of course you will. This is your life now). Enjoy this time, it passes quickly.
June 13, 2011 — 10:50 AM
Josin says:
Yikes.
Well, at least you didn’t Google “Things caused by my dad being a blogger.” Then you’d get a whole list about self-esteem issues caused later in life by Daddy discussing baby’s poop habits in public. Not to mention the lifetime inability to converse with the opposite sex for fear that they’ve all ready about his breastfeeding habits. AND… maybe not being able to think Dad was “really” joking about the river or the kittens or the panda.
Had you Googled that, you’d have no choice but to believe that every keystroke you enter is one more hour your kid will be able to add to the psychologist’s couch when he hits puberty and all his hormones become your fault. 😛
June 13, 2011 — 10:52 AM
Tamsyn says:
Wait until you get to potty training. Or have two children alternating between crying and vying for your attention. We look back with fondness and think ‘what did we do with our tine when we only had one child’? it never gets easier, only worse. We get through the bad times by remembering them as stories we are going to tell at their wedding,
June 13, 2011 — 10:55 AM
Amphimir the Bard says:
Reading your posts makes the blocked memories from 6 years ago come back… snif.
Still, I laughed.
Take it easy, relax, and let the mom breastfeed for as long as its comfortable to her.
(my boy breastfed for about 8 months, my girl about half that, since she learned to bite her mom, so it was strictly formula from then on). It’s all good.
Enjoy your kid, they grow up way too fast.
June 13, 2011 — 11:08 AM
Dan O'Shea says:
Don’t sweat the interwebs, dude. Hell, we ended up with two kids with Autistic Spectrum Disorders (or on the Spectrum, as all the cool parents say these days) and they didn’t even HAVE an internet when we were breeding. Well, maybe Al Gore had one, I dunno.
As far as shit goes, just be glad its a boy. Girls man, you get down there to wipe and the nooks, the crannies — it’s like trying to get shit out of a Thomas’s English Muffin.
June 13, 2011 — 11:14 AM
terribleminds says:
@Dan:
I am in general happy I do not have to be, erm, invasive in terms of diapering and cleaning my son.
We do have to point his Baby Wand down, however, lest that thing go off like an accidental blunderbuss.
— c.
June 13, 2011 — 11:59 AM
Justin D. Jacobson says:
We had the gassy-baby situation. You should try some different brands to see if it makes a difference. We ended up with Similac Lipil, which made the gas disappear like, well, gas. As my uncle the doctor said: The last one you try is always the one that works.
June 13, 2011 — 11:16 AM
Sammy says:
The ironic thing is that in a year or two when your child has exhusted interest in all his toys and wants your undivided attention every waking moment, you will forget the horror of caring for a young infant and think that having another baby is a good idea. For no other reason than to entertain the one you’ve got.
June 13, 2011 — 11:19 AM
Julia says:
Chuck, I’ve given you an award because I like your blog. 🙂 I want this to be a compliment and not a burden, so please take it in that spirit! And, um, perhaps you will see the irony…
June 13, 2011 — 12:02 PM
Lynne Connolly says:
That baby looks like Thom Yorke. You might be harbouring a musical genius. or just One Who Knows.
June 13, 2011 — 12:03 PM
Lisa says:
You’re doing great. The first year is a crucible, and you’re going to emerge changed, with all the nonessentials burned away. The important stuff (like writing) will return. Trust.
and some unsolicited advice:
Haven’t been there with the combo breastmilk-formula thing, but for us the big-time gas and constant nursing beyond the growth spurt (with a breastfed baby) was related to a foremilk-hindmilk imbalance during a cluster-feeding growth spurt. (3 wks? 6? If you remember it, you weren’t there. Anyway.) Check out “foremilk hindmilk imbalance” on kellymom.com – easy to address with block feeding technique.
Then again, the gas could be formula-related, which I know bupkis about. My initial reaction was that your doctor is indeed a Similac shill… seeing as how the kid is nursing so avidly and all. But hey, she could be right. I dunno. Do what works for your family and screw everyone else, her and me included.
or the gas could be “colic.” I.e., digestive system still maturing. Fun times. Learn baby belly massage and bicycle-the-legs technique to help him release it. (I think this was in the Dr. Sears book [with which I had a love-hate relationship, though it’s great on such tricks].) You can sing songs about gas while you do this.
oh, and re the developmental spurts: the Wonder Weeks book was very, very helpful. Book has great info – lets you know what’s coming developmentally, why your kid’s eating and sleeping has gone to hell, and what the payoff will be in mad new skillz – despite being quite repetitive. I hear they now have an app, which could mitigate that issue.
June 13, 2011 — 12:07 PM
Lisa says:
oh, yeah – another vote for the arms-out swaddling. Actually, double-swaddle with arms out. And socks on the hands so he wouldn’t claw himself. And sleeping either on me or in the bouncy chair (= whatever works) for the 1st 3 months. And running the hairdryer for white noise.
Just do what works. it’ll be ok.
June 13, 2011 — 12:12 PM
terribleminds says:
@Lisa —
Oh! Man, no, no hairdryer for white noise. I think you can burn your house down that way, yeah?
— c.
June 13, 2011 — 12:30 PM
Spomenka says:
Totally adding the vote in the “change out the formula” side of things – Similac is what they gave my daughter in the NICU. I hated it – it smelled bad, it stained EVERYTHING… Enfamil we all tolerated much better.
June 13, 2011 — 12:13 PM
Julie says:
They sell random household appliance white noise CDs for babies.
Ours was “Vacuum Cleaner.” Didn’t even wait for the CD. Just downloaded the damn thing.
June 13, 2011 — 12:46 PM
Laura Benedict says:
Oh, man, when we were pregnant 8000 years ago, people didn’t shut up about the fact that babies are horrible, awful tyrants. Now there’s a secret gov’t program that pays people not to let on b/c the U.S. population rate sucks so badly in comparison to China’s.
As to SIDS–Sounds like you all are doing all the right things. And if your adorable little dictator is able to fling himself about so well, I bet he’s capable of Herculean efforts when it comes to keeping up with the breathing thing.
This was the best new-dad blog, ever!
June 13, 2011 — 1:21 PM
Kristen Lamb says:
ROFL. I totally feel for you. Try GentleEase formula (the purple can). They have one that is gentle on the tummy. Also they have drops to help with gas, and it is harmless (Simethicone).
I am sorry I can’t seem to stop with the advice, but I so totally feel for you guys. But this time is short, so enjoy it. Pretty soon he will be trying to type on your computer and stuffing Cheetos in the XBox.
June 13, 2011 — 1:26 PM
Amber says:
No one EVER believes me when I try to tell them about the popcorn poop.
Thanks for the validation.
(Also, great post, and I promise to give ZERO advice here)
June 13, 2011 — 1:46 PM
Bryon Quertermous says:
It’s amazing how much the parental mind white washes the horror of raising an infant. Just this weekend I was watching some home videos of Spenser from his first month or so and Oh My God I forgot how much that kid cried. All. The. Fucking. Time. And then I went back and read some emails I wrote to friends about how so many people lied and said it was a joyous time but that I really could find myself able to drop my kid off on the porch of a church. It all flooded back to me at once. If people remembered this stuff we’d be a nation of one child families.
As for formula, our daughter drank nothing but the stuff and couldn’t gain weight if we strapped it to her, but my son, who was had nothing but boob food could anchor a Division I Offensive line.
June 13, 2011 — 2:03 PM
margaret y. says:
Sounds like you and your family are doing great. Best wishes to you all.
June 13, 2011 — 2:07 PM
Marcia Richards says:
Hahaha! And this isn’t even the hard part! This won’t last too long, but there are many other stages to deal with. Sounds like you’re handling it pretty well…sleep when you can and laugh often. The worst age for boys? Puberty…middle school, but I loved every minute of raising my son and daughter, thing is, at 23 and 29, it sometimes seems like I’m not done yet.
June 13, 2011 — 3:08 PM
Elizabeth Poole says:
I have to say, I love these baby posts. Even the one where you were lost in Babies R Us.
Because, well, I just found out I am pregnant. And now I can TOTALLY go through your archives and read your posts and the comments (cough*Advice*cough) these wonderful people have left you. 😀 Also, seeing the cute baby pictures makes the constant nausea and fatigue and backaches seem like it’s going to be worth it.
June 13, 2011 — 3:11 PM
terribleminds says:
@Elizabeth —
Holy crap! Congrats.
Despite all the urine arcs and frothy spit-up, it’s totally worth.
Of course, mine’s only three weeks old. See me again in three years. 🙂
How exciting.
Can we name the baby “Terribleminds?” I think it’s only fair.
— c.
June 13, 2011 — 3:44 PM
Danielle La Paglia says:
It’s true. Kids will kill you, but it’s so worth it.
As for the “supplimenting”, don’t let the formula haters scare you. My daughter (now 11) was on formula from minute #1. That’s right. She NEVER had breastmilk. *gasp* Guess what? She’s fine. She’s run a straight line through the growth charts on height and weight, mirroring the bold standard at every stage. She’s never had a major illness, rarely gets colds, and, to top it off, she’s got a genius IQ (no really, she’s smarter than me, it’s quite sad). Formula did not rot her brain or turn into an obeise monstronsity stuffing her face with chocolate and cheeseburgers.
B-Dub will be fine. He’s got parents who care. That matters more than anything else.
June 13, 2011 — 3:52 PM
Allen Sale says:
When in doubt, ask the goblins for help. I mean seriously, that kid had so much fun in Labyrinth …. but don’t use Willow for reference because that got intense. Just remember that that babe has power. Scary powers that babe has from the looks of it.
June 13, 2011 — 4:05 PM
Lisa says:
Hairdryer: we ran it on cold setting only, handheld (yes, facing away from the baby!). After a day or two, we got smart and recorded it on the iPod and had it ready on looping for whenever.
Strangely enough, none of the commercially available white noise options worked as well*. Maybe he remembered the sound of that particular dryer from the womb? Wouldn’t surprise me – kid still has no trouble knowing exactly what he wants and communicating that fact.
* though I’d recommend the Happiest Baby on the Block DVD for many good soothing tips – certain dance moves described therein + swaddling (arms out) + white noise worked really well in our case.
June 13, 2011 — 4:45 PM
terribleminds says:
@Lisa:
Big big fan of the Happiest Baby series.
— c.
June 13, 2011 — 4:56 PM
Leanne Shirtliffe (Ironic Mom) says:
Hilarious. And true. I have seven-year-old twins. There were times when I wished they had a return policy (well, the last time was in May), but they are so squishable.
And regarding cluster feeding. I don’t do that anymore; I only cluster tweet.
June 13, 2011 — 5:35 PM
Anne-Mhairi Simpson says:
This is why I’m not having kids if I can possibly help it. It’s hilarious reading about other people’s experiences, but if it were me, I’d probably be floating away in the FREE PANDA box by now.
June 13, 2011 — 5:42 PM
Piper Bayard says:
Lol. Yep. New parenthood in a nutshell. I’m sure you folks are doing a great job. Always keep in mind that people dumber than you have raised kids. 🙂
June 13, 2011 — 6:39 PM
Pamala Knight says:
Awww yeaaahhh! Look at that face! That is one cute-assed baby. And they’re the WORST kind because no matter how many cuss words you want to call them, your heart’s not in it because really? You’re going to swear at that face? Come on now.
As everyone else has said, this phase will pass. My youngest son went on formula sooner than the firstborn (Carnation Good Start was easier on his digestion in case you need an alternative) and we also gave him a bottle of Pedialyte ever other day or so. When new parents hear those words “failure” and “thrive” in the same sentence, it amps up the nerves which leads to the vicious cycle: the baby wants to feed all the time which makes the mother nervous about her milk supply and in turn, the milk supply gets a little out of whack because the baby’s feeding all the time.
My little guy was also cranky and burpy. I had to really watch what I ate too. No onions, broccoli, cauliflower, strong foods, etc. We finally learned to burp him before he fed and then probably twice afterwards. He just couldn’t get all of the air out on the first try and it made him miserable, which he felt no compunction about passing along to his staff. That’s what you feel like–staff at a shitty restaurant where you have a single patron that you can’t please.
I remember one particularly bleary-eyed, sleepless night where he’d woken up at midnight or so, looking all chipper and cute, like he wanted a ride down to the pub where he’d be standing the first round for his friends. In a quiet only slightly hysterical voice, I said something that went like this: “listen you. I know you’re cute and all but you need to save that shit for your grandmother because all the people in this household including your ass need to be asleep right now. I know, I know. The ‘chipper at midnight’ routine will come in handy when you’re 21 and living away from me, but for now, take your ass to sleep.” Or something along those lines.
Anyway, didn’t mean to yammer away. Wishing all of you long peaceful naps and bacon.
June 13, 2011 — 6:50 PM
Geoff Skellams says:
Welcome to hell, compadre. (I have a 16 month old at the moment).
It gets worse before it gets better too. I bet no one warned you about that, either.
And yet, because they’re so adorable, you forgive them for totally screwing with everything in your life you hold dear.
June 13, 2011 — 8:37 PM
Elizabeth Poole says:
Thanks Chuck!
And you’re right, it’s only fair to name the baby “Terribleminds”. It’s not like celebrities aren’t naming their kids all kinds of weird things. You even combined the two nouns the way I love to do in my fantasy novels.
I am sure my husband will agree. If not, I can just wait until the Hubby’s out of the room, and make out the birth certificate really quick. 😉
I can read “Irregular Creatures” to the baby for a bedtime story. Also, you should totally screen print some onesies and shirts with your book covers. It would be awesome.
Good luck with the urine arcs, and BTFO.
June 13, 2011 — 8:55 PM
Juls says:
wow, sounds just like what is going at my house now with our 1 month old! Good luck to you. My oldest is 5 so I know we managed somehow a long time ago…but maybe that’s the reason we waited so long before we tried again!
June 14, 2011 — 12:30 AM
Barry Napier says:
Spot on. Hilarity and honesty aside, this is actually a spectacular article. Much better than half the useless crap in “Parenting”
June 14, 2011 — 8:53 AM
Maggie Carroll says:
I’m so sick of the YOU MUST BREASTFEED OR YOU ARE TERRIBLE PARENTS RAAARRR attitude so prevalent on pro-tit websites. No, not the porn ones. The motherhood and parenting ones. All three of my kids are bottle-fed, formula babies. All three are perfectly healthy, perfectly energetic and right on cue in their height/weight ratio. The important thing is that they’re getting all their nutritional calories, vitamins, calcium and iron. Not where it comes from. 🙂
June 14, 2011 — 9:04 AM
EC Sheedy says:
Chuck, I hope you never stop writing these baby posts. (Which means I hope your little guy never grows up LOL) The posts are filled with fun, grit, bewilderment, insomnia, worry and a whole lot of love for that little Panda of yours.
Plus they are a gift of laughter to all of us who follow your blog.
June 14, 2011 — 4:04 PM
Clay Morgan says:
Ahhhh, briliant once more. I say you punch Dr. Spock in the throat and write a baby book our generation can get behind. You can offer a free panda to the first 100 people to buy the book.
June 14, 2011 — 6:02 PM
Jenny Hansen says:
Yeah, yeah…everybody withholds the good stuff. They don’t tell you that breastfeeding is a two person job IF YOU WANT A KID WHO SLEEPS. My husband used to rub Baby Girl’s head, crank her arm, tickle her feet, poke her face…all so she would eat enough to sleep for a few blessed hours. As the lactation chick in the hospital said, “It’s not a snack bar.” (yes, she said it in that tone of disdain. But she was RIGHT.)
Oh yeah, and when they had us supplement (which they did from the first day), my husband had to use one of those syringes that look like they can claw your eye out to drop formula into her mouth WHILE she breastfed (good times).
On the gas front…we hated Similac. It gave our baby gas. EVERYTHING gave our baby gas. The only way we got past it was to switch to the Enfamil Premium and give her Mylicon (Target’s anti-gas works just as well and is cheaper) BEFORE she ate. The instructions say do it during. Our life-saving pediatrician said, “Ignore the box. Give them before.”
It’s almost too late to do it, but read Baby Wise if you can stay awake long enough. The first three weeks are supreme suckage for everybody but Baby Wise let us get 3-4 hours in between feeding (that was just us, mind you…don’t hate me if it doesn’t work, but it SHOULD work).
Last but not least, our baby screamed bloody murder the entire first night at home UNTIL I put the bumpers on her crib. Once the bumpers were up, she calmed down immediately. She did the same thing at 9 months when we took them off for good. We had to weave sheets between the bars of the crib for her to calm down. The kid just doesn’t like to feel caged…go figure.
Sorry it took me so long to chime in. I haven’t been over in a few weeks since my little terror is cutting all four molars at once. Sleep is once more a distant dream.
June 14, 2011 — 8:02 PM