D-Day

The Dreaded Day (return back to work day) came and went last Tuesday. I miraculously managed to hand Christian off to the nanny without a tear and drove to work, hoping I would still remember how to handle a mirror and explorer. The day passed without incident and the minute that clock hit 5:30pm I was on the road, speeding, to see: 1) if the nanny had quit, or 2) from how far away I would hear the wailing. Imagine my surprise to return home to a non-crying baby (and nanny) and a spotless kitchen! I could not believe how much I missed that ratty Gonzales. The feeling seemed mutual, as he welcomed me home after the long separation by latching on for a marathon feeding session, and I did not mind one single tiny bit. :)

The other day I think my subconscious must have been speaking loudly while I was dressing Christian. Dad arrived home to find his long-lost twin.

Christian was going for the casual look: untucked shirt, collar unbuttoned. It took a root cause analysis to figure out why I was unable to button his shirt even close to the collar. The culprit? No neck, of course! With a twinge of disappointment we took off his nice collared shirt and placed it away for a future, neck-filled day. The fashion statement just wasn't worth the oxygen deprivation.

We've also noticed two new developments: 1) a new cry and 2) slobbering. He has a new, higher pitched but surprisingly lower decibel cry. Dae is not a huge fan; I, on the other hand, welcome any reduction in decibels with open arms! The slobbering seems to go hand-in-hand with his new fist obsession, so we've taken to bibbing him...

Folks, what's with this monkey business?

Lastly, we turned over a new leaf by officially beginning what we have heard is inevitable: Crying it Out (or, in Stink's case, Shouting it Out). I piloted the first night when Dae was out, letting Christian 'shout' for the better part of 2 hours. My maternal instinct experienced some anguish, but my sleep-deprived alter ego argued that he had been fed, was clean, and unless he was shedding tears (he wasn't) he was, indeed, going to live. Night one he shouted for 2 hours. Night two: 45 minutes. Night three: 10 minutes. Dare we say success?

Stay tuned!