Today is a wonderful day. We spent the weekend at the family cabin where I was able to pass the babe along to family members while I: sat in the hot tub, made chocolate covered salted macadamia nuts, slept, went on a date, pet my neglected dog, explored the woods for future tree house sites, bathed, read a book, and socialized with adults. When I stopped worrying about the baby’s lack of sleep, I had a grand time.
It made me wish more than ever to live on a hippie commune. I’m convinced that humans were never meant to live in such solitary single-family homes. It’s lonely, incredibly inefficient, and when you’re solely responsible for the needs of a completely helpless whelp, it’s emotionally and physically draining. Let’s all live together, share the work, share our kids, share our meals, and hang out. Just not in a creepy Kody Brown, share the husband sort of way.
Anyway, today is additionally wonderful because I slept 4 hours straight last night. He often sleeps 5 and 6 hour chunks, but I have such terrible insomnia that I rarely sleep more than 3, so I’m pretty thrilled about 4. After his second stint in the crib, I brought my baby into bed for a 3 hour snuggle/nurse/sleep session. When we woke up he was all smiles and coos and cuteness. Now he’s well into his second hour of nap time. Angel boy.
He is 6 weeks old today. Crazy. He acts and looks much, much older. The books say he should be holding his head up briefly. He’s been performing this trick (granted, with poor control) since his second day of life. He spends tummy time pushing his body forward, slowly inching to the edge of the blanket or towel like a little snail, and when he is naked (as he often is), marking his progress by leaving pee trails as he goes. And he’s BIG. He’s in the 3 month clothes already, and even they are getting snug.
The comment I get all the time is, “he looks like a person,” which they usually explain to mean that his features are those of a distinct person’s, not those of an anonymous baby. His eyes are now definitely blue, and in certain lights, I think I’m picking up on some red in his awesome head of hair. Oh, his hair. When it’s fresh from a bath and not greasy with a 1000 kisses, he looks like a baby duckling with feathery wisps that stand straight on end. Mom called it genius hair.
One story to remember before I go. Last night on the long drive home from the cabin, baby started crying. When our singing failed to settle him, my husband reached back to comfort him, and found our sweet dog’s head already there, nuzzled into his lap with his little fists clenched on her muzzle. Our dog hasn’t had much attention since the baby arrived, but it warmed my heart to know that she considers him part of our pack and doesn’t seem to hold this lack of attention against him. She stayed there until he calmed down, and then reclaimed her usual spot between our front seats.