Sorry for the delay between posts I've been a little busy with the research and purchasing of cloth diaper covers. I have now officially completely rounded out my stash (this is the third time I've said this btw). But I'm going to leave you all in suspense as I'll do a whole (or a few) posts on cloth diapering, pros, cons, why I'm doing it, ect. in the future. So that delayed me some, oh, and the baby has decided that after slowly transitioning into a 1 o'clock bedtime which was awesome for us, that the last two nights she wants to scream her bloody head off until 4-4:30 in the morning. Oh, not straight because then Sarah and I could work as a team to calm her down. No, steady unpleasantness would be too straight forward. Manya approaches her parents well being with a more subdued forms of torture; suspense, like an old Hitchcock film.
For the past two days Manya has been cranky. Normally she fusses a little, we walk around, bounce on the yoga ball and then ultimately send her to momma for the Melkys. Dad really has no power except as a large jungle gym who makes noises. Mom's Melkys is the true saving grace. The crankiness has revved up a little into a new discord. A high pitched screech that sounds similar to a Pterodactyl flying full speed into a F-16. There's little warning as such astounding decibels apparently can be generated with little to no air intake. She's a true miracle of science. I have my ears checked three to four times a day for leaking blood.
The screaming more often than not occurs during an important scene of a TV show (thank goodness for DVR it makes me feel bad for past generations) or during meal time (we do shifts in high anxiety, its hard to enjoy a meal when someone is yelling at you). All of this is fine and we take it in stride. We knew what we were getting ourselves into. Come 12:30 the real games begin. Manya fusses and cranks, and after the right combo of babying and rocking and singing she's fast asleep. Into the bassinet or onto my chest for a quick nap to make sure she's sound asleep. The lights drop, music is muted, dog into the corner and the family settles in for some much needed rest. Just as we dip into mindlessness, two kicks, a back bend and the high pitched scream. Repeat over, and over, and over, and over. But I'm awake now and I'm sure tonight will be better [face palm].
Manya is such a baby. She can't speak. Not a word. And she has no idea what I'm saying. At all.
Which is great because I can still curse without feeling too bad about it. I figure I've got a few more months till I really have to watch what I say. I practice around other children who have the ability to comprehend my more colorful vernacular. But don't let this lead you to believe that Manya and I don't talk. We talk constantly. I explain the nuisances of life, music and the arts and she makes some of the most insane hilarious noises of all time.
Manya is a noise machine. She's best after eating and releasing an impossibly gigantic bowel moment (of equal force and volume). This Herculean effort leaves her especially comfortable and lively which in turn enables her to babble a plethora of phenomenal coos, waas, meeps and and array of indescribable sounds. Of course when I attempt to tape them she immediately stops and/or just grunts and breathes loudly.
I spent the last hour trying to get this video to work. It should but it's not. I'm leaving it up hoping Al Gore will come and fix it, if not, disregard the impossibly cute video of a baby girl making noises and wiggling her feet that for some odd reason will not work on 'blogger'.
I think it's amusing that babies are essentially similar to really loud adults who make noises ALL THE TIME. We like the little coos and giggles, are amused by the silly unique noises, and love the special moments. We are so entranced with the cuteness that we totally embrace and forgive the grossness. We cheer when my baby farts louder than I do, especially if she hasn't made a poopy in over 6 hours. This makes no sense! If I were to go to the bathroom at noon , if it turns 7 I know Jeopardy is on TV and I should start thinking about dinner. If Manya hasn't, we wait in heated anticipation, the suspense building with each hour, and when she makes a noise that sounds like a watermelon being crushed inside a trash compactor that's being sucked through Shop Vac I cheer like when Jeter tagged Jeremy Giambi on the ankle as he attempted to cross home.
A couple of days after we brought Manya home she was sleeping in her bassinet next to our bed. It was mostly dark outside, but there was just enough light slipping in through the edges of our black-out shades to see the outline of each piece of furniture in the room. I was half asleep as its impossible to fall into the abyss of a deep sleep after the hospital's nurses have spent the last 72 hours scaring the shit out of you about SIDS. Ever since I've started carrying and rocking a baby multiple hours a day my back hates me. Maybe there's a technique in never learned but I'm in a fair bit of pain a good deal of the day and anytime I stretch, I crack 4-7 vertebrae like its nothing. (That prob shouldn't happen should it) I was rolling around as I tend to do, attempting to make myself comfortable despite a locked lower back, arms that will fall asleep with the slightest pressure, and the slowly increasing quantity of light creeping into the room, when I hear the oddest sounds from the side of the room. It was a low gurgle with raspy undertones. An alien chuckle of an unusual distortion mixed with an airy bubbly oddity of sound.
Me: You hear that?
S: [half asleep] Yea.
Me: What's that sound?
S: [incoherent mumble]
Me: Baby drowning in milk?
S: A Gremlin is getting wet.