Ironically, not just Noah's growing pains!!
It's all kind of odd; he's weaning like a trooper, on three full meals a day plus my (dwindling) milk supply, but he's not gaining weight...or he's doing it REEEEAAAAALLLLLYYYYY slowly now. We think it might be because he's now desperately trying to crawl.
For the last week and a half he's been rocking backwards and forwards on his arms, then on his legs, then on all fours.
I think the best moment came last week when he was on his front next to me on the sofa. He'd been rocking on his stomach for a while, when suddenly he propped himself up on all fours and shot a foot forward into the arm of the sofa. I shat my pants.
He's done it a number of times since then, and I'm seriously wondering if he is indeed just going to bypass sitting up. I wish he WOULD learn to sit up, I'm not so keen on how fast he's developing...he's now 22 weeks (today) which is like, uh, 5 ½ months. D and I reckon he'll be moving by 25-26 weeks. I have 3 weeks to empty the house.
Going to sleep or having naps now involves relentless rocking backwards and forwards on all fours, with his head buried into whatever he is lying on. I have to say, it's quite entertaining. Unfortunately he gets worked up so quickly! And I swear he's going to have severely bruised, er....body.
Tendonitis in my thumb is mother-of-god agony, but I'm still playing thankfully! In fact, I'm due in Symphony Hall for 2pm today for a rather large concert tonight. Felt quite proud of myself when I got promoted yesterday from the back of the section to 2nd desk. Ok I know it won't be the same for the next concert where I'll automatically be back at the back again, but still, after all the back-stabbing, shit-throwing, utter-bollox I've had to deal with in other orchestras, it's a welcome gentle temporary rub of my ego. And they've asked me to play for their cello workshop next year.
He still has no teeth, despite gumming everything within a 3 foot radius of his mouth. There is one thing that I wish to god would HURRY UP AND HAPPEN ALREADY, I do NOT like having a child who is screaming and miserable almost 24/7 without there being very much I can do about it. I'm not a fan of doping him up Calpol, I much prefer to give him rum or brandy.*
I've had some utterly shite days these last few weeks, more recently resulting in me collapsing to the floor, screaming and begging Noah to stop crying. Apparently on Thursday I was shouting at myself so loud, the neighbours came in to find me curled up sobbing on the bathtroom floor. That was fun. I hasten to add I have the sense to put Noah in his cot everytime I feel it coming on, so he's NOT in any danger.
I love PND, every day brings new drama.
People keep saying take the meds (after last time? With the whole 2 stone weight gain, vision problems, sleeping for 2-3days without waking up at all and the hallucination trippy shit? Uh, no thanks.) and others keep telling me what Noah really needs to make things better for him.
I have to say, I'm fast approaching the "screw you, I know him better than anyone so I'm gonna do what I think, you rather large group of stupid whores".
My favourite would be when mother, waaaaaaay back, said I couldn't give him a dummy. It's wrong, he doesn't need it, I'd regret it. Last week she had the balls to ask why I wouldn't just give him his dummy.
Pfffft.
Yes, by the way, we have eliminated "The Dummy". Well I did it, and hoped for the best. He now hasn't had it for about 2-3 weeks, and it's not so bad, though of course there are many times when I question my own decision. Like when he's screaming the mother-freaking** house down and my eyes and ears are bleeding.
For once I'm standing my ground.
"That's right mother, you stand your ground and I'll just gum on this tasty toy. Nom."
* I'm obviously kidding. Mostly.
** Mother-freaking because I'm trying to cut down on swearing. No such fucking luck.
It's all kind of odd; he's weaning like a trooper, on three full meals a day plus my (dwindling) milk supply, but he's not gaining weight...or he's doing it REEEEAAAAALLLLLYYYYY slowly now. We think it might be because he's now desperately trying to crawl.
For the last week and a half he's been rocking backwards and forwards on his arms, then on his legs, then on all fours.
I think the best moment came last week when he was on his front next to me on the sofa. He'd been rocking on his stomach for a while, when suddenly he propped himself up on all fours and shot a foot forward into the arm of the sofa. I shat my pants.
He's done it a number of times since then, and I'm seriously wondering if he is indeed just going to bypass sitting up. I wish he WOULD learn to sit up, I'm not so keen on how fast he's developing...he's now 22 weeks (today) which is like, uh, 5 ½ months. D and I reckon he'll be moving by 25-26 weeks. I have 3 weeks to empty the house.
Going to sleep or having naps now involves relentless rocking backwards and forwards on all fours, with his head buried into whatever he is lying on. I have to say, it's quite entertaining. Unfortunately he gets worked up so quickly! And I swear he's going to have severely bruised, er....body.
Tendonitis in my thumb is mother-of-god agony, but I'm still playing thankfully! In fact, I'm due in Symphony Hall for 2pm today for a rather large concert tonight. Felt quite proud of myself when I got promoted yesterday from the back of the section to 2nd desk. Ok I know it won't be the same for the next concert where I'll automatically be back at the back again, but still, after all the back-stabbing, shit-throwing, utter-bollox I've had to deal with in other orchestras, it's a welcome gentle temporary rub of my ego. And they've asked me to play for their cello workshop next year.
He still has no teeth, despite gumming everything within a 3 foot radius of his mouth. There is one thing that I wish to god would HURRY UP AND HAPPEN ALREADY, I do NOT like having a child who is screaming and miserable almost 24/7 without there being very much I can do about it. I'm not a fan of doping him up Calpol, I much prefer to give him rum or brandy.*
I've had some utterly shite days these last few weeks, more recently resulting in me collapsing to the floor, screaming and begging Noah to stop crying. Apparently on Thursday I was shouting at myself so loud, the neighbours came in to find me curled up sobbing on the bathtroom floor. That was fun. I hasten to add I have the sense to put Noah in his cot everytime I feel it coming on, so he's NOT in any danger.
I love PND, every day brings new drama.
People keep saying take the meds (after last time? With the whole 2 stone weight gain, vision problems, sleeping for 2-3days without waking up at all and the hallucination trippy shit? Uh, no thanks.) and others keep telling me what Noah really needs to make things better for him.
I have to say, I'm fast approaching the "screw you, I know him better than anyone so I'm gonna do what I think, you rather large group of stupid whores".
My favourite would be when mother, waaaaaaay back, said I couldn't give him a dummy. It's wrong, he doesn't need it, I'd regret it. Last week she had the balls to ask why I wouldn't just give him his dummy.
Pfffft.
Yes, by the way, we have eliminated "The Dummy". Well I did it, and hoped for the best. He now hasn't had it for about 2-3 weeks, and it's not so bad, though of course there are many times when I question my own decision. Like when he's screaming the mother-freaking** house down and my eyes and ears are bleeding.
For once I'm standing my ground.
"That's right mother, you stand your ground and I'll just gum on this tasty toy. Nom."
* I'm obviously kidding. Mostly.
** Mother-freaking because I'm trying to cut down on swearing. No such fucking luck.
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