Behold, my muse.
A camera that can capture droplets of water in the air and the pure joy of a baby bath.
Gerber-precious.
Huh?
Pondering the wonders of the world.
Monday, March 21, 2011
All the Difference
I recently got a fancy-schmancy camera. And now instead of taking a million blurred pictures with my old camera and a million fuzzy pictures with my phone, I take a bajillion pictures with my fancy-schmancy camera. The best part is that even though I know next to nothing about photography, I can still take awesome pictures.
Behold, my muse.
A camera that can capture droplets of water in the air and the pure joy of a baby bath.
Gerber-precious.
Huh?
Pondering the wonders of the world.
Behold, my muse.
A camera that can capture droplets of water in the air and the pure joy of a baby bath.
Gerber-precious.
Huh?
Pondering the wonders of the world.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Night and Day
I have an angel baby during the day. She's adorable and funny and sweet.
At night? I think it's her personal mission to torture me sometimes.
In the early days of Avery's life when I was getting up every two hours to feed her, I'd be optimistic each time she went to bed. "Tonight's the night she'll sleep through the night!" After a few months, my optimism started to dwindle, but my hope has managed to survive in the face of night after night after night—7 months of nights!—of waking up multiple times a night.
Starting at three months, we moved her from her bedside bassinet to her crib. And I started getting up, going to her room, and getting her back to bed when she'd cry. Usually at about 6 a.m., I'd give up and bring her to bed with us. That started moving to 4 a.m., and 2 a.m., then midnight, until she was basically sleeping with us after the first time she woke up in her crib.
Sleep was a little restless, but I didn't realize how much glorious, solid sleep I was getting until we decided to move her back to her crib because, while I understand that sleeping together can be safe, you know what's safer? Her crib.
The first night was fine, a couple of wakings, par for the course. The fourth night? Hell hath no fury like a baby scorned. She went to bed around 8 p.m. and woke up almost every hour until 7 a.m. She skipped the 1 o'clock and 5 o'clock hours, but made up for it by waking up twice during the 2 o'clock hour.
I thought I was going to die. Even her newborn days were never that bad.
She appears to be sleeping soundly, but look closely and you'll see that she's reaching out for me.
Why not just let her cry it out, you ask? Because apparently that's like asking me to shove a knife in my own eye. I just cannot do it. I can't handle the sad baby tears. I can't handle a hoarse baby (she gets hoarse if she's left to her own devices for a short time). I can't handle her needing me and me just not being there. Even if she's dry, fed and warm and just needs to cuddle? Well, I'll freaking cuddle. She won't be little forever. Besides, a couple of times I've let her roll for a few minutes, hoping she'd go back to sleep. And a couple of times she's been crying because she has a Texas-sized poopy diaper. I wouldn't be able to sleep in my poop either.
Also, I read a story about raccoons attacking a baby in her crib, and even though I now know that the idiot dad let them into the house, I will never be able to get the image of raccoons attacking my baby out of my head when she's crying. Yes, I realize I'm nuts.
All that to say: It's been a frustrating few days. BUT. Last night she slept four hours straight, an all-time Avery record. And then another three! And then another three! So things are improving, thank the heavens above.
Side note: Did you know that "sleeping through the night" is considered a baby sleeping five or more hours? Personally, I don't think Avery waking up at 2 a.m. after five hours is anything to brag about. But when she sleeps solidly for like 7 or 8? I'm throwing a freaking party!
Until that party? At least I have hilarious, adorable Avery to get me through my days.
Putting everything in her mouth, no matter what.
Finding the TV, always.
Taking glasses straight off my face. Into her mouth, of course.
You can even see her anger through the holes.
Came back from the bathroom to find this.
My love.
At night? I think it's her personal mission to torture me sometimes.
In the early days of Avery's life when I was getting up every two hours to feed her, I'd be optimistic each time she went to bed. "Tonight's the night she'll sleep through the night!" After a few months, my optimism started to dwindle, but my hope has managed to survive in the face of night after night after night—7 months of nights!—of waking up multiple times a night.
Starting at three months, we moved her from her bedside bassinet to her crib. And I started getting up, going to her room, and getting her back to bed when she'd cry. Usually at about 6 a.m., I'd give up and bring her to bed with us. That started moving to 4 a.m., and 2 a.m., then midnight, until she was basically sleeping with us after the first time she woke up in her crib.
Sleep was a little restless, but I didn't realize how much glorious, solid sleep I was getting until we decided to move her back to her crib because, while I understand that sleeping together can be safe, you know what's safer? Her crib.
The first night was fine, a couple of wakings, par for the course. The fourth night? Hell hath no fury like a baby scorned. She went to bed around 8 p.m. and woke up almost every hour until 7 a.m. She skipped the 1 o'clock and 5 o'clock hours, but made up for it by waking up twice during the 2 o'clock hour.
I thought I was going to die. Even her newborn days were never that bad.
She appears to be sleeping soundly, but look closely and you'll see that she's reaching out for me.Why not just let her cry it out, you ask? Because apparently that's like asking me to shove a knife in my own eye. I just cannot do it. I can't handle the sad baby tears. I can't handle a hoarse baby (she gets hoarse if she's left to her own devices for a short time). I can't handle her needing me and me just not being there. Even if she's dry, fed and warm and just needs to cuddle? Well, I'll freaking cuddle. She won't be little forever. Besides, a couple of times I've let her roll for a few minutes, hoping she'd go back to sleep. And a couple of times she's been crying because she has a Texas-sized poopy diaper. I wouldn't be able to sleep in my poop either.
Also, I read a story about raccoons attacking a baby in her crib, and even though I now know that the idiot dad let them into the house, I will never be able to get the image of raccoons attacking my baby out of my head when she's crying. Yes, I realize I'm nuts.
All that to say: It's been a frustrating few days. BUT. Last night she slept four hours straight, an all-time Avery record. And then another three! And then another three! So things are improving, thank the heavens above.
Side note: Did you know that "sleeping through the night" is considered a baby sleeping five or more hours? Personally, I don't think Avery waking up at 2 a.m. after five hours is anything to brag about. But when she sleeps solidly for like 7 or 8? I'm throwing a freaking party!
Until that party? At least I have hilarious, adorable Avery to get me through my days.
Putting everything in her mouth, no matter what.
Finding the TV, always.
Taking glasses straight off my face. Into her mouth, of course.
You can even see her anger through the holes.
Came back from the bathroom to find this.
My love.
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