Fussy Wussy

Holy crap balls it's been forever and a day, huh?

I have managed to survive (barely) for the last week and a half without internet in our house. Our lame-o computer cord decided to start sparking and being the responsible people we are, we figured it would be more expensive to pay for fire damage than a new cord, so, we unplugged the sucker and waited for a good sale on a replacement cord.

Can you say $20 off?! YEEAHHHH baby we are SO back in business!!

Anyway...the faulty computer cord was only the start of my woes.

Silly me thought this new baby thing would be CAKE. Liv was seriously the easiest baby on the planet. Rarely cried, never really cared to be held much, just wanted to chill on her own and take in her surroundings on her own terms. So why would my second child be any different? Oh boy is God laughing hysterically at me right now for my stupidity....

This little doll is a FUSSER. Sweet Mary, if she's hungry, she screams. If she's wet, she screams. If you go to change that uncomfortable wet diaper, she screams. If we lay her on her back, she screams. The child is constipated. She screams. She has some acid reflux issues, she screams. We've started her on medicine to help with the pukey issue, she screams. We put her down for a mili-second, she screams. Yowza. Mama is EXHAUSTED.

I have become an official baby-wearer with this little one. Liv HATED being in any kind of baby carrier. Miss Samantha? You guessed it, can't stand to NOT be in one. My saving grace has been my new Moby Wrap baby carrier. And doncha know you can haul a child up to 45 pounds in the thing?? If you could please introduce me to someone who feels the need to carry their 45 pound child around in a baby carrier, please let me know. I would love to smack them on the head. Hard.
But in all seriousness, this has been the one thing to IMMEDIATELY calm her down. Oh and this:
This be her new best friend: the hot water bottle. Fill that puppy up with warm water, lay her on her side with her belly up against it, and she's happy. For about 5 minutes, until she realizes that you have PUT HER DOWN AND NOW I'M GOING TO SCREAM AND THROW FOUL LANGUAGE AT YOU IN MY INDECIPHERABLE BABY LANGUAGE!!!

The child is three weeks old, and her Diva-like attitude is already shining through.

In all seriousness though, while I do realize her temperament IS completely different from what Liv's was, I know she just plain doesn't feel good. Between her play-doh like poop and her constant stream of baby-spew, I just want to cry for her. What kind of mother am I to have ripped her from her incredibly comfortable little home inside my belly where life was just sunshine and rainbows and throw her into this hell that consists of constipation and excitedly loud big sisters??

She's shown signs of feeling a bit better since switching to those Dr. Browns bottles and starting her on the meds that her pediatrician prescribed for her acid reflux. PRAISE THE LORD.

I'm shocked at the amount of patience I have with this little screaming bundle. John and I were reminiscing the other night about how NUMEROUS times we felt the need to throw Liv through the window as a baby because her screaming fits, though very far and few between, MADE ME WANT TO RIP MY EARS OFF AND EAT THEM. We haven't experienced that feeling with Sam though, even though her screams are pretty continuous. Maybe it's the fact that knowing you can somewhat calm her just by simply snuggling her to your chest so she can hear your heart beat that makes things seem a little bit sweeter.


Through the screams and lack of poo, I find myself incredibly in love with my little family. I'm realizing that I'm LOVING being a mommy to two girls, screams and all.