I've noticed that Greta is a bit proprietary about our little guy. Several times, when I've offered to hold him so that she can lie down, she's said, "No, that's okay," while staring down at him and gently stroking him. Clearly, she is in love ... but so am I! I got my chance early this morning, when Greta, exhausted from a three-hour string of back-to-back feedings and diaper changes, woke me up and whimpered, "I have got to get some sleep," and collapsed next to me.
I gently picked Seamus up and put him on my chest -- several people have told us that letting him sleep that way will encourage him to sleep longer. So I held him and patted him, rocked him whenever he half-woke, and marveled at his unlikely existence: this tiny little human, totally dependent on us, whom we had conjured out of nothing. Greta woke around three hours later, feeling much refreshed (it's surprising how much such a short sleep can help).
She also is very mama-bear protective. Not only did she show her claws to that infamous metermaid, she even bear-growled at me one time. On Seamus' second or third day (it all blurs together), the sleep deprivation caused me to have very vivid and unsettling dreams during one of our one-hour sleep periods. When Greta tried to wake me to help her with a feeding, I flailed my arms spasmodically, warding off some dream-threat: I even grabbed Greta's wrist. Fearing that I might accidentally hit Seamus (lying between us) if that happened again, Greta immediately exiled me to the couch until I could get caught up on my sleep. I guiltily scrunched up on the small couch, and immediately fell into another nightmare: there were mushroom clouds on the horizon, and Greta and I were frantically trying to escape somewhere. No more 24 for me -- or, more practically, no more letting myself reach that level of exhaustion.
I have no hard feelings, though. I could have accidentally hit Shamu, and now I have a built-in excuse for sneaking in some extra sleep: "Can you do this diaper change, honey? -- You don't want me to lose it again, do you?"
2 comments:
"Yes sir, you're my baby / No, Jimma, I don't mean maybe!" It was great, great, great to talk to you today, finally -- you sound so over-the-moon about Seamus and your fatherhood. A fair treat, also, to hear the lad's little "noises" -- I swear, he's getting ready to talk any day.
Greta is just such a typical Mama Bear -- that genetic stuff really kicks in when you have a completely helpless little life depending entirely on you for sustenance and safety. Good for her, I say -- and I pray that all three of you will fall into a sleep pattern you can live with, soon.
I miss you 3 terribly!
Jim! I forgot to teach you how to make the eggs for Greta! EEK!
SOFT BOILED EGGS DIREX:
Boil water in the fondue pot.
Gently put 2 eggs in and time from 5 to 5-1/2 minutes depending upon the size of the eggs.
The largest ones can go for 5-1/2 mins.
When timer goes off, take pot off stove and pour cold water over them to cool them for a few secs in the sink. (meaning, replace the boiling water with cool water in the pot)
Then peel them (crack the egg on the counter and then start to peel in the water in the pot-makes it easier to peel) and scoop with a small spoon into a bowl that is large enough to hold the eggs and the lightly buttered toast you will have ready to break up in the eggs. Lovingly mix all together and serve with fresh hydrating fruit in a B&B style on the tray I left for you kids.
It goes without saying, kiss Greta on the forhead when you deliver it to her.
Love NanaBanana :o)
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