wake up call

This afternoon I was pretty close to having a full scale melt down. Just as the tears were starting to flow, my Mom called. I was able to talk to her about how frustrated I am with the baby, how nothing I do for him seems to help any more, how sick to death I am of his incessant screaming, how tired I am, how badly I feel for neglecting my other two children for the past, oh, six months or so, how I am going to utterly loose my ever loving mind if something doesn’t get better really soon, how wiped out the husband is, how nothing in our life is working right now… and so on and so on. As I talked, I realized that we have put ourselves at the mercy of a tiny dictator who is growing more powerful by the day. He has us wound so tightly that if he starts to fuss or display any kind of a need everything else falls by the wayside until he is appeased. It’s ridiculous really.

I don’t quite know how we have gotten here, particularly with our third child. It’s not like we are rookies at this parenting thing. We’ve been pretty quick in the past to dole out gentle doses of “toughish” (and sometimes army style) love when our kids were getting nuts. But this little baby, he’s got us coming and going and dancing on our heads like idiots. He’s sly, that baby of ours (and pretty darn adorable)! Even so, we can’t keep allowing him to completely run our household. It is not fair to anyone else who lives here. He’s not even happy with the current arrangements.

The thing that is making us most nuts is the night feedings. Seriously kid, how often do you need to eat? Probably a lot cause he is huge (19 pounds 7 ounces and 29.5 inches this past Monday at his 6 month check up) but still… It’s got to change. Lately baby J has been refusing any solids (which is very confusing since he tries to rip any food we are holding out of our hands) and screams his head off if he even sees a bottle. Now I know that a bottle is just not as warm and lovely as the goodness Mom offers but come on child, it won’t kill you! I’ve been trying to give him a bottle in the afternoons to help boost his caloric intake. The way he carries on you’d think I was trying to feed him varsol.

Starting tonight, I will no longer be nursing him after he goes to bed. If (ha! make that WHEN) he wakes up to nurse, Daddy is going to offer him a bottle of formula. If he takes it, great. If not, he’s going to be hungry and pissed off until he relents. The kid just needs to learn to take a bottle. I wish we didn’t have to do it this way but I’ve tried every other way I know and nothing else works.

So little man, know that you are loved beyond description and that is why we need to do what is best for you and the rest of our family (even if you don’t like it). Your sister doesn’t get candy for breakfast and we don’t buy your brother every set of Lego he wants so don’t expect that you are going to get everything you demand either. I’m on to you little Castro (but I still melt every time you smile at me!).

Edited to add:

Abort! Abort! Mission hardcore postponed. Darling dictator spiked a fever. I guess hydration trumps sleep.

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