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the true definition of a parent When they tell you there isn't a manual that comes with your baby, something to give you all the answers to your every day concerns and dilemnas of motherhood they weren't shitting. It turns out one piece of advice, article or book may work for you but it could fail me miserably, or visa versa. I thought me and baby were on the path to bliss, but it turns out we're lost in a maze and can't get back to where we were two days ago. Ahhh...the business of sleep. In a perfect world I'd put the little guy down in his crib, he would entertain himself for a while and then fall off to sleep without a bottle, without a pacifier and without the breast. He woke several times last night. I am still trying to figure out if it's the change in his diet. I'm low on breastmilk now and have regretfully had to give him formula on more than one occasion. Could he be lactose intolerant? Because he is always gassy afterwards. And then there's the rice cereal. If nothing else it has constipated him. Regardless of the fact that I feed him the organic, multi-grain rice cereal, he goes three days now without a movement. This can't be good. Whatever it is, if you've been reading my journal daily then you know that whatever is keeping my baby from sleeping soundly has become my daily obsession. So this morning I tried something new. I fed him his bottle and did not allow him to fall asleep at the bottle. Instead I stopped feeding him just as I noticed he was getting ready to nod off and gently plopped him down into his crib. He looked around a second, then rolled over on his side and went right to sleep. Instead of waking up a half hour later crying, he slept a solid hour. And it took me a few minutes before I realized he was awake because low and behold he was playing quietly in his crib. But let me not be as misled as I was two days ago when I actually believed one good night sleep was the beginning of a new and wonderful trend. Babys are unpredictable, challenging, and altogether wonderful and as a result so is motherhood. ****** Today I was updating MY POETRY page and took a dark walk down memory lane. While I know that reliving the past serves no purpose, putting it into prospective, as I believe I have, certainly helps. If you read some of my poetry it probably wouldn't take you long to realize 1). I was raped in college 2). I had a pattern of getting involved with older, married men 3). I was adopted 4). My father is not a part of my life 5). I never write when I'm happy :( I don't know what happened to my father. After my mother died he checked out on me and my brother. He was physically there, but mentally and emotionally he was gonzo - usually across the street at my soon to be stepmonster's house. (Yup he married the widow across the street from us less than a year after mom died. Then when it was time for me to go to college, he eagerly filled up the back of his brown Nissan truck with my "stuff" and literally dumped me off at college and that was it. Never visited me, phoned me - not even a damn postcard. Sure he paid my rent for that first "wonderful" semester, but I needed and wanted a lot more from him than $275 a month. I wasn't a bad kid. Didn't get involved with drugs or alcohol. Didn't even lose my virginity until one October evening in SALEM when I was eighteen years old. But I did try to kill myself. I was sixteen and had a crush on a boy. But the boy didn't have the same feelings for me, and my father it seemed no longer loved me...he had started his new life with his new wife....and I had all the usual teen angst...and it was the anniversary of my mother's death....so I swallowed a bottle of Tylenol. I've been told by family members my father, who is now in his seventies, has Chromes Disease and is living in Houston Texas, a big change from the small Massachusett town where he'd been living for years. I sent him a photo of my husband and I some time after we were married, and a letter telling him I was sad he was no longer a part of my life and that I missed not having him at my wedding to walk me down the aisle, and that I'd forgiven him for not being a part of my life all these years. An envelope arrived two weeks later with my stepmonster's familiar writing. Inside she had not written anything, just the photo along with photos of me as a child...oh and my birth certificate. So when I met my husband the most attractive thing about him was the fact that as a Greek man family is VERY IMPORTANT to him. Greeks, not unlike Italians, stick together. I know with a great deal of certainty that no matter what my son does my husband will always be there for him. Someone who loves their child more than anything in the world, unconditionally and does not ever disown, abandon, or separate themselves from their child regardless of what they may have done THAT is the true definition of a parent. Have to go now, baby needs me.
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