So Monday morning I woke with the determination to find something that resembled a schedule.

Alex was napping, so I went downstairs, took out smoothie ingredients from the fridge – yogurt, milk, strawberries – and from the cabinet – whey powder, flax seed, peanut butter, oatmeal.

I made smoothie, I poured coffee, I made waffles (in the toaster), I poured OJ.

I put everything away, went upstairs, Alex was awake, we talked about food and how it smelled, then we took a walk and watched some Sesame Street (with Donald Grump and Omagrossa, and Elmo stole Donald Grump’s wig and DG said that was no problem, he had more, and whipped out a new one, so both DG and Elmo were wearing DG wigs.)

Tuesday and Wednesday mornings quickly became clusters.

This morning I woke, walked downstairs to make my smoothie took out smoothie ingredients from the fridge – milk, strawberries – and from the cabinet – whey powder, flax seed, yogurt, peanut butter, oatm…… whoa….. yogurt doesn’t belong in the cabinet.

EWWWWWWWWWWWW!

Had an AWESOME conversation with my sister in law today about how our husbands are these wonderful intelligent men who every few days just take a stupid pill and don’t know what to do with the baby.

Her example was Deacon asking her when E’s diaper had last been changed – she said a couple of hours. He asked if it needed to be changed. She told him she would go get her super poop detecting nostrils so she could ascertain if a diaper on a child three rooms away needed to be changed or not.

She also pointed out that we create this problem. That when we yell at…. er…. helpfully suggest…. erm…. lovingly mention that there is an alternate way to do something for three days in a row that inevitably on the 4th day they will be too scared to do anything on their own. Thus creating the TOAB phenomena.

It’s always the dumb things that make the big events sink in. I can’t remember what randomness made me realize Scout and I were married – but last night I was fixing my address book and searched our last name and there was my name and Scout’s name. Like I haven’t seen this a million times. But something about seeing Scout’s name in my email takes me back to when we were early dating and the excitement of seeing mail from him.

Today we got Alex’s Social Security card in the mail. Same feeling of OMG WTF I’m the parent of someone, I have to be responsible for keeping track of someone’s social security card.

Mommy!

Oh yeah, Alex can projectile. He was out of sorts last night, and I wondered where he was putting all his food. Would settle him down, put him down, he’d wake up about the time I got the covers pulled to my chin. Went through that routine a few times, then he was settled long enough to hear that ‘urp’. By the time I made it across the room to pick him up to clean up the mess he shot what looked to be the last 2 feedings out with some distance. So it’s on him, in his hair, all over the bed. I got Scout, and started ripping the nasal aspirator out of it’s package, because whatever hadn’t shot out his mouth had gone straight to his sinuses. Gross. So several minutes of screaming followed by a prompt zonk out on me.

All of this woke Scout completely up and I was still sleepy, so he’s been up all night, payback may be hell.

I’m the Mom. I’m the one with the milk on some part of my clothing. I’m the one who voluntarily and automatically does the dishes. I’m the one who hasn’t left the house without the baby. I’m the one with the post delivery hormone induced acne. I’m the one with the tiny baby fingernail claw marks on my neck.

I’m the one who when Alex is screaming and won’t chill out, can pick him up, lay him on my chest, say his name and watch him go straight to sleep, and get to snuggle with him for a couple of hours and not have to give him back.

Compromise is good.

It’s a huge change from two weeks ago. Scout’s gone from “where’s the manual” to, I think, outdoing me in the parenting category. He’s figured out how to feed Alex and change a diaper at the same time, he’s better at the diaper changing than I am, he needs less sleep, he can handle the slippery post bath baby, he’s better at letting him cry every once in a while (granted, his boobs don’t ache when he hears a baby cry). This is good good stuff.

What with me pumping every three hours, we’ve tried to start sleeping at 9pm in 3 hour shifts. (which would explain why it is 343am and I am awake). I think we’ve been swapping off on who sleeps first – fortunately we haven’t both been to the wall exhausted at the same time yet.

Last night Scout mowed the lawn and I got attacked by the sleepies before he got inside. It SUCKS when you just want to fall in bed, but know you have attach yourself to the moo machine for 15 minutes before you can fall asleep.

He came in, I moo’ed and went to bed. Then I couldn’t fall right asleep. One of the reasons was that I was having to convince myself that the world would NOT end if I didn’t have a blog entry for yesterday’s date.

See? Clearly Insane.

It’s been a hard couple of days to live in my head.

1 am for some reason is the time some demon comes to visit. The hour of all my fears setting their teeth into me.

Two nights ago those teeth took the form of remembering a story relayed by a holocaust survivor about what happened to his infant niece. (And I’ll leave it at that, sharing the nightmare won’t ease it any).

And that story haunts me. Because the babies all look like Alex when the scene plays on fucking repeat when I’m at my most exhausted. And no amount of reminding myself that this took place 60 plus years ago helps ease me when the demon sink it’s teeth in.

But on the other hand. I look at Alex when the teeth are securely fastened and my mouth tightens a bit, and I know there is no way that anyone is getting to this boy without going through me. I feel that Mama Bear instinct strengthen in me more each time.

And realize the only way for me to do this motherhood thing is to go all in. Which I’ve never done before. People always get held off just that little bit, just that touch so I’m always left slightly independent of them, just in case something happens and they aren’t with me anymore. Even Scout. And I think he knows this. Which makes me a little sad.

I thought I could do motherhood the same way. But I’m beginning to see that it’s not going to be that way. I look at Alex and I know that no one is going to hurt him if there’s anything I can do about it. I’ve known from his birth that he’s one of my tribe. That he belongs to me. Spending the last ten days in the house with me, Alex, Scout and my mom was a … it was bonding… for all of us …. I did realize what a blessing it was each “night” (whenever my “night” began) as I went to sleep, and remembered to say thank you for having the three people most important to me under my roof.

All in. This boy is going to make me go all in. I’ll have to in order to continue to go with a shortage of sleep. To feed him the one ounce per hour for the 10th time a day, to watch all my furniture take another hit of breast milk, spit up, or little boy pee, to not sleep by my husband, to listen to him cry (Alex, not Scout).

All in. And right now. Sitting here just after sunrise, Alex crashed out on my lap, one arm tucked behind his head like “I’m the coolest 13 day old baby on the block”, in actual non stained AND dry clothes, it’s easy to see how I will fall for this little boy again and again. It’s easy to overlook how loving this boy all in will break my heart on occasion, keep me scared at 1am for … oh … ever….. and whatever other God awful hard things are in the future.

Again, I’m looking over my shoulder trying to find where the adults are that are supposed to be taking care of all the big decisions.

On Thursday, Scout was strung out. I could tell that he was having trouble because testosterone brings on less instant maternal instincts than the ovaries do. Well, that and he hasn’t done things like sing “The Ants Go Marching” for 45 minutes while trying to get Aly to go to sleep, he hasn’t ever been alone in a house with a hungry baby and a slow bottle warmer, things like that.

So I called his friend Dave and asked if he could get Scout out of the house for some guy time on Friday. Dave said he too remembered feeling like he was only one who didn’t get the baby manual when his daughter was born and he’d be happy to take Scout out of estrogen hell and give him some guy time.

Friday came and went and Scout went to Target for food and diapers, but never mentioned Dave.

Dave and his wife and daughter came over on Saturday and the wife (Karen) told me that Dave called Scout on Friday and could NOT convince Scout to come out for a while – Scout was too worried about me to leave me alone.

Love isn’t in the wedding flowers or the wedding rings. It’s in the stuff like this.

Thoughts on Goldenseal:

I think it’s good for keeping the belly button non gooey while the cord bit is trying to fall off. Otherwise, once the nasty cord scab falls off, air drying is the way to go.

More from the “advice” category:

They told me in the hospital that Always pads are too drying to use after having a baby – at least in the immediate weeks, that they are great for a monthly period, but not for the postnatal period. Interesting.

Today we have to start using cereal with Alex. He’s starting to suck down 3 ounces at a sitting.