BB has been sick. There seems to be a correlation with visits to the school playground. I was feeling like such a good mom, taking my kids for a walk, letting BB play on the slides and monkey bars, spending some time together outdoors. And then the sick. Granted, it’s only happened twice in the past few weeks, but considering he hasn’t been sick for ages until then, it seems to be more than coincidence. I can hardly shield him from playgrounds, though, and eventually he will be in school, amidst a veritable melting pot of germs. He needs to build up his immune system.
Having a sick child stirs an entirely new range of emotions.
I was going to start the weaning process, but LB gets some of my antibodies, and so far, we’ve not been sick. I’d like to keep it that way. I feel helpless enough waiting for the sick to work its way through BB. I don’t want to deal with vomiting and diarrhea with an infant. It’s not so much the mess, but the helplessness and the concern and the heartache for my suffering child that I want to avoid. I don’t want him to suffer. I could do without the mess as well.
He did catch a cold, recently, concurrent with the emergence of his razor sharp lower front two teeth. I’ve heard that’s not uncommon, for a child to get a runny stuffy nose and a mild fever when teething. He is no fan of the nasal aspirator, and cries and thrashes while I use it, but like a light switch, he’s all giggles and smiles the instant it’s over. I love that.
LB has been such a dream baby in many respects. He likes his routine. He starts squirming and showing a little agitation around 6:30-7:30 p.m., indicating he’s tired. I put him in his hammock with a bottle and he settles in almost immediately, and sleeps peacefully until 5-6 a.m. He semi-wakes at regular 3 hour intervals for a feeding, and when he’s finished, I deftly swap the bottle for the pacifier and he nestles right back into his comfy position and continues to sleep. However. The other day, during his agitation phase, he was able to flop himself completely over while in the hammock, which is no small feat. Once on his stomach, it’s almost impossible to right himself, so the hammock is no longer a safe place to sleep. Enter the crib. And the unhappy antics of a child whose routine has been altered. It’s been three days now, and he’s doing better.
I do wish he’d take more than 4 ounces at a time. If so, he might sleep longer than 3-4 hours at a stretch. Which means I could too. Selfish me!
