We’re watching Blue’s Clues this morning, since we have the posh Digital Cable and can finally appreciate the brain-expanding goodness that is Noggin. Only it isn’t the real Blue’s Clues. There is no stripey-shirted Steve. There is only “Joe.” I do not believe in “Joe.” When Steve talks to the screen, he seems sincere, if unnaturally childlike. “Joe” comes across as rather smarmy, like the uncle who insists he’s really good with kids because he took three ECD classes when he was in college. “Joe” says “You’ll help us, won’t you?” and instead of sounding engaging and friendly he sounds like he’s trying to convince the kids that scrubbing the kitchen floor would be really fun. I do not like “Joe.”
Ellison, however, is not picky (at least where the Joe/Steve continuum is concerned). He’s in his bouncer, kick-kick-kicking his little legs. He has the cutest, fattest little legs. There are fat folds where there aren’t even folds. I just want to eat them up. Ditto his arms, his cheeks, his scrunched-up neck…basically I want to eat the kid. Is that so wrong?
Last night I was talking to Matt about the baby. “I just want to keep him forever,” I said.
“You get to,” Matt said. “He’s always going to be your baby.”
“No. I get to keep you forever. Ellison I only get for a little while. Then he’s going to belong to himself.”
It’s not that I want to infantilize him…but I’m going to miss all this when he’s big enough to be on his own. I waited so long for a baby and I love watching him grow, but a pause button would be really, really nice.
I finally broke down yesterday and decided to start with the Benadryl. Anecdotal evidence from other breastfeeding mothers outnumbered alarmist internet information like this:
Diphenhydramine is secreted in breast milk. Because of the risk of stimulation and seizures in infants — especially newborns and prematures — antihistamines should not be used by nursing mothers.
Seizures – seriously? Yet here I am, taking Benadryl anyway. I am the world’s worst mother. I did bottle feed him all last night, and is there anything sadder than standing over the bathroom sink at 4am, wobbling from sleepiness while pumping drugged milk into a bottle to be poured down the drain? I decided hesitantly to breastfeed today…and Cranky Baby doesn’t seem to be affected at all. Unlike me, of course. I’m a walking zombie today. Benadryl is like a fluffy pillow wrapped around my head. A nice, warm, fluffy pillow. Wouldn’t it be nice to lie on a fluffy pillow right now? Yes, yes it would.
The itching is slightly better but more importantly the hives finally seem to be healing. They’ve gone from huge, spreading welts back down to small, dark pink dots. There are still some areas that are all one big itching welt of doom, but my arms look like arms again. I am very much looking forward to the time when I don’t want to scrape my skin off with a bit of steel wool, but I’ll take what I can get for now.
Cranky Baby is all snuggled on his Boppy right now. I haven’t been playing with him as much as I should – the pillow around my head makes it hard to be really interactive – but he seems pretty happy. Maybe he will want to take a nap with mama. What do you say, kid?
I’ve got to say, the Baby Einstein stuff is sort of oddly addictive. We’ve got Baby Neptune, which is all about water. Ellison loves it. Loves. The bits where water bubbles? He laughs and bounces and coos. Does he laugh or bounce or coo for mom? No he does not. Apparently bubbles are far, far more exciting than his mother.
I don’t want to be one of those parents who plop their kid in front of the TV so they can get things done…but then I find myself saying things like “Baby Einstein let me eat breakfast today!” and I wonder if I’m already one of those parents.