Rites of Passage

Rhys has his first ear infection.  I'd been naively hopeful that being a breast milk-fed baby would help him avoid this unfortunate rite of passage.  Apparently not.  Daycare is breast milk's kryptonite. 

I know Rhys wasn't feeling great, but he didn't seem to be in too much pain and I think he was psyched about another week at home with Mama and Dad.  While we love hanging out with him, it made for a stressful week in terms of our jobs.  We went in for partial days, worked from home during his naps and again in the evenings and did our best to get some sleep at night (Rhys had other ideas).  

Ahhh, sleep.  My favorite topic.  It seems that the dirty secret of parenting is the use of "cry-it-out" as a means to get your baby to sleep through the night.  Nearly everyone we've talked to has done it and found it to be quickly effective.  As an expectant mother, I was horrified by the idea.  Now I am horrified by the idea of continuing to get up 3+ times per night for the indefinite future.  

As is typical for us, Brian and I have bantered this conversation/decision around for awhile.  We've read books, talked to other people, talked to each other some more...and done nothing.  Until last night.  After a lengthy and thorough conversation regarding our game plan (we probably should have documented our decision tree in Visio) and determining that Rhys was healthy enough, we pulled the trigger. 

When sweet Rhys awoke at 11pm, I fed him a big 'ol bottle as we still don't think it's reasonable to expect him to sleep 12 hours without eating.  When he awoke again at 3am, we just listened.  He whimpered and cried for awhile, but there were many punctuations of silence when he seemed to fall back asleep.  He did so for good at 4:30am.  Ironically, by then I was a little hungry and needed a snack before I could fall back asleep. 

After bracing ourselves for the worst, we found the experience to be relatively painless.  The tone of his whimpering was one of annoyance:  "Hey, big people, I'm awake and ready for our routine of milk and rocking.  Where are you already?!"  Listening to it was not hard at all. 

Proponents of certain parenting philosophies would say that we are cold and heartless and have damaged Rhys' trust in us.  I say not helping a baby learn how to sleep on his own, thereby giving him the opportunity for long stretches of brain-developing sleep, is far more damaging.  I also say that at some point, and we are there, a well-rested family must be the priority over meeting Baby's every last wish.  I'm sure Rhys would have preferred to some assistance getting back to sleep but he didn't need it.

If Rhys' emotional security was damaged last night, it certainly wasn't evident today.

I know it's unlikely to be a linear progression, but hopefully we are on our way to a most wonderful rite of passage: sleeping through the night. 

(I pray I have not jinxed us by putting those sweet, sweet words in writing.)   

Happy Father's Day, Dad

Dear Dad,

There are a lot of cool guys in my life.  I love my grandpas (Happy Father's Day to you two) and my uncles (Uncle Carl, when are you coming to visit?!) and my friends (hi Calder and Lincoln), but there's just no one like you.

I've turned your life upside down, wreaked havoc on your sleep for seven months and yet I can tell you love me more than anything.  It feels really good to be loved like that.  When you come into the room, I can't help but smile so big that my cheeks hurt.  

Mama tells me that you like your job a lot and are very, very good at it.  Knowing that makes me all the more grateful for the three months you took off so we could hang out together.  I know taking care of me can be a little monotonous (feed, play, change, nap, repeat) and I'm not much of a conversationalist (yet), but I never got the sense that there was anything else you'd rather being doing.  Any old dad can "babysit" and keep his kid alive.  It takes a really special dad, like you, to make time together quality time.

I am learning a lot by watching you love Mama.  I hope one day to have a wife (husband?) to devote myself to the way you devote yourself to her.  Having two parents who love me is great, having two parents who love me and each other is awesome.  Our family makes me feel safe and secure.

Thanks for being my dad, Dad.  I love you very much.

Love,

Rhys
         

Laughs and Other Random Thoughts

Brian and I played catch in front of Rhys and he found it to be quite funny.  His laughter, of course, toned down once we started taping him, but you'll get the idea...

In less funny news, Rhys got sick again.  This time "just" a cold.  A gift from his new friends at daycare.  He slept horribly Sunday and Monday nights.  It was brutal, particularly as Monday was Brian's first day back at work.  He handled it with grace, as usual.

I wish Rhys could talk.  I really, really wished he could talk on Sunday night when he was so miserable and wouldn't sleep.  I wanted him to tell me what was wrong and be able to comfort him with my soothing words.  Instead, we comforted him with Tylenol.  We don't know if he was in pain, but at the very least, it seemed to calm him down.  Drugs are my friend.  I hardly recognize the woman who gave birth to Rhys unmedicated.  She has been replaced with a woman who has Vicodin and Percocet in the cupboard (for me, not Rhys) and gives her son Tylenol in an effort to get him to sleep.  

Daycare is going fine...for Rhys.  Mama's having a harder time with it.  I know it'll get better.  I am trying to be patient.  Patience is not my forte.

I am ridiculously out of shape.  This week I've been walking Rhys to daycare and then continuing on to work.  Two miles a day and my leg muscles are actually kind of sore.  So lame.  The forced exercise is one good thing about daycare.

Apparently, I am addicted to pumping.  I had every intention of stopping when Rhys turned 6 months old.  But I didn't.  I just can't seem to bring myself to stop.  Even though he's had formula and done fine with it.  Even though I believe it's the final key to my recovery from his delivery (hormone balance).  Even though pumping at work is huge time suck (haha) and pain in the a**.  Even though I recently pumped blood because I used too high of suction.  Even though...I just keep going.

Fairly often I've been taking a cab home from work as it's my quickest option and I need to be quick if I want to see Rhys before his 6pm bedtime.  My cabbie tonight drove like a bat out of hell and it was awesome.  Maniac cabbies are highly annoying...unless you're the passenger and they are getting you home to see your kid.

That's all for tonight, people.  Good night.

Rhys' New Hat

Gramma and Grandpa Wynne recently went to UFO Fest in McMinville, OR.  When you're retired and aren't rationing your vacation days oh-so-carefully, these are the types of lovely, quirky trips you can take.  Anyway, of course Rhys needed a present so they bought him a hat.  A spaceship/alien hat.  Unfortunately, it did not fit.  Darn.  So sad.  Oh well, moving on.  (Whew, close one.) 

Not so fast, says Gramma.  The aliens will be salvaged!  Crafty Gramma sewed them on to another hat.  I laughed so hard when I saw the creation.

Rhys has received many compliments on his new hat.  And I still get a good laugh every time I see it.  Apparently, a baby's wardrobe just isn't complete without a good alien hat.  Thanks, Gramma!    

Where'd They Go?

We're here.  We've just been busy.  After extolling the virtues of work in my last post, I've been totally slammed and working every evening.  All of a sudden, staying home doesn't sound so bad.

We've also been ill.  Rhys got sick, then Brian and finally it was my turn this weekend.    

We're also tired.  Yes, Rhys is still getting up at night.  My colleagues are incredulous when I tell them this factoid.  I do not know why.  He is six months, not six years old.  Even the "cry-it-out" sleep book I have says that babies may legitimately need to eat once or twice per night until they are nine months old.  I am convinced that nobody actually remembers when their kid slept through the night.  The memory is wiped clean; it's the only possible explanation for second (and third and fourth) children.

We've also been stressed about Brian going back to work and Rhys starting daycare.  Ok, this is just me.  But, as we all know, when Mama's not happy, nobody's happy.  The good news is that Brian took Rhys to daycare on Monday for a few hours and all went well.  I still have my concerns and reservations, but that's just how I am.  (And I'm not going to apologize for it).

Despite the above, the family photographer has been hard at work capturing cute pics of our little one.  We call this series, YUM!

Rhys loves oranges!  It's impressive how much he can mangle a slice with just his gums (no teeth yet).

This picture implies a level of sippy cup skill that is not actually true.  Also, Rhys is not yet a fan of water.  You'd think there was lemon juice in there based on his facial expression after consumption. 

We like to let Rhys feed help feed himself.  This is the result.

Mmmmm, peas and rice!

Sweet baby.