i heart boys. girls scare me. boys aren't dramatic, they don't whine about everything, they can walk it off when they get hurt... they don't get pregnant. these are all real concerns for me when i think about raising a girl. i'm sure i will end up with a girl at some point, but i don't have one right now, and if i play my cards right (ya, like i have control...), she will have a handful of big brothers to keep an eye on her.
anyhow, my first is 6 years old. he is such a great kid. easy-going, independent, and loves the indoors (a huge plus for me).
my second is 4 months old. he is super cute, still nursing, and... extremely needy. and still nursing. by still nursing, i mean like right at this moment after nursing like every hour. he just started dabbling his toes in the world of bananas and avocados, so, hopefully, that will curb the buffet attendance some. yes, i'm feeding my baby food before he's 6 months old. if that concerns you, please see the sentence where i mentioned that he nurses like every hour. he's jealous of my food-food when i eat. it was time. and he only eats food-food after he's already nursed for that session.
like i said, he's really cute. really. especially when he isn't crying, which is all the time. all. he just cries and cries and cries. i hold him practically all day long. and he eats all day long. people keep telling me he's colicky. that's what they tell you when they don't know what's wrong.
well, i know what's wrong and it isn't colic. my first was so easy. he literally could hang out in his bouncer all day long and only be out long enough to eat or get a clean diaper. yes, that happened sometimes. i only breastfed for 6 weeks, i was not an attachment-parenter, i didn't use cloth diapers, and i never wore my baby, except when my mom drug my husband, my baby, and i to natural bridge caverns 4 days post birth (which was induced because i was dilated, but not in labor). yes, i was young. don't judge. that was the pre-hippy me and i have been reborn with rockin' green cloth diaper detergent to clean off all my woes. i could put him on the floor with his toys and a battery-less remote and he could play by himself all day long. so. easy.
now, i cloth diaper, i intend to nurse for like ever, and i wear my baby pretty much every day. my baby chose for me to wear him because i can't put him down. ever. so, if i intend to be productive ever, i have to wear him. he cries while i'm wearing him, he cries while i'm playing with him, and sometimes, he cries while i'm nursing him. he just cries. and cries and cries and cries. and then, he just stops. like nothing ever happened. he isn't gassy, constipated, or teething. he likes his environment to be changed somewhere around every 5 minutes. he likes to be held and looked at constantly. and he likes immediate response. when he cries, he expects you to fix it right at that exact second. in fact, you should have already known he was going to cry and fixed it ahead of time.
people ask me what's wrong with him all the time. nothing. nothing is wrong with him. he's a baby and he just wants to be mad or happy or pee or eat or play, or eat, or eat. people say he must be hungry. you'd think i was starving him by how many times i hear that. he isn't hungry. i just fed him, literally, right before you said that. he likes to suck on things like his hands and people's necks. that means he's hungry. except what it really means is that he likes to put things in his mouth and i better watch out when he's mobile.
so when people ask me why he's crying, i say it's because he's a baby and he does that. sometimes, i think he really just likes to. trust me, he gets really great, constant hands-on care all day long, every day. i am a stay-at-home homeschooling mom, so what else do i ever have to do except pay attention to my kids.
sometimes it isn't colic, whatever that really even is. sometimes, it's just a reeaaaallllly needy baby who will eventually get over himself (hopefully) and join the rest of society in moderate to great happiness. so the answer is to cry... almost always.
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