Magic And The Witching Hour

I have a friend named Christina who just had a beautiful baby boy. While we got all wrapped up in birth stories, breastfeeding, and the overall joy of mommy hood, but then she started describing something that slammed me so hard back into one of the first hard struggles I had with Little Man, and that was the damned witching hour. 

So I dedicate this post to her. 

You will survive this. :)

The witching hour. Sigh. Let me first say that the name is complete crap! It does not last an hour, in fact it has not really truly started until you are at least an hour into it. Little Man started his bit at 4 p.m. I would anxiously watch the clock starting at about 2 and try to come up with some sort of plan to ward off my impending doom. I had read multiple articles and done tons of research on this and basically what it all boiled down to was being outside of a bubble that you were once in for 9 months is total bitch. The only thing you could try to do was recreate that bubble. So...think like a womb. Since I do not exactly remember by 9 month stretch of water balloon vacation I stuck to the basics.  The bath was an obvious first choice. The bath was pretty magical. Low lights, warm water, and skin to skin contact worked very nicely. He would lay on my chest while I poured warm water over his tiny body. The bond that we have is so very powerful. Sometimes the bath did not work and I would have to seek refuge in other things. During this phase of his life is when I discovered the power of baby wearing. I had a Moby wrap (http://www.mobywrap.com/mw/Home.htm) and it was BY FAR the best gift I have ever been given. I would wrap him up in my Moby and take my screaming child to a magical place out in the yard called "The Bunny Trail". The bunny trail was a large pathway cut through some black berry patches that connected our yard to the neighboring road that goes up the mountain that lives behind us (yes, the mountain lives there as if it has the opportunity to move when its lease is up). The blackberry bushes are taller than you are and it has a very Secret Garden feel to it. Its quiet and calm, yet buzzing with life. The greenery, the trees, the mossy soft ground, and the chirp and cheep of life was enough to calm my screaming child. He would look around with his pitiful face all red and tear streaked. He would lay on my chest and just feel the movement of the walk with calming sounds of nature. I would talk to him while we walked and tell him all the things that were around us. I would point things out and brings things closer to him.  We walked the bunny trail several times a day. It was a cleanser of all things bad and one of the few things that slayed the silent demon of the witching hour. 

Little Man in his Moby walking on the bunny trail. 

One of the first times I ever put him in my Moby. 

I had also read that over stimulation also would contribute to the witching hour. I would like to publicly thank Costco for this. Costco is over stimulating to anyone really, but we started to referring to whole activity as "Being Costco'd". It never failed every time we went there and  I would pay for it ten folds that evening. I can not say the exact day the witch left us. I guess because on days he was not haunted by her I just chalked up as a good day. Eventually, the good days became routine and just like it came it was gone in a flash. Now its a distant memory. I do have to thank the witch (a little bit) because she really gave me an opportunity to learn about my little man and bond with him. We have a very, very powerful bond and I will admit sometimes it can be a bit overwhelming. If it wasnt for the witch I wouldnt know how to truly read him and his needs. She inspired me to be creative and to not be scared to look for answers and try new things. 

Someday, Christina, you will say the same thing. 

All magical things happen in the bath. When Little Man was just a few months old he found "his legs" in the bath. He would splash and stretch them and my heart would flutter with love. You can watch that here. 

These days the bath is a whole new fun thing!! 

Plum Sauce

Starting a little one on solid food is a fun, fun ride. Go ahead and watch the first 45 seconds of the video. He is REALLY enjoying that, uh! I thought so too. My mom and I had spent a good part of last summer making our own baby food. We bought fresh fruits/vegetables and frozen fruits/vegetables, cooked them down, seasoned them, and pureed them. Little man loved most everything we put in his mouth. My mom also made some things for the family too. She made this awesome apple butter that we would dip our steak in (my mouth is watering thinking about it) and she made some spicy plum sauce (not for sissys) and regular plum sauce (for Little Man).  We have a cherry, pear, and apple trees, and berry bushes in our yard.....just typing this makes me long for summer. Anyway, back to this story. When I filmed this video I was laughing at him so hard! That reaction to each bite! Those fists! Those noises! Those little feet kicking!! I was so excited to find something that he loved so much, so fast! I couldnt wait to show my mom the video. I just knew she would be so proud that all that hard work was not in vain. When she came home that day I showed her the video and we were just rolling! She then asked (I still to this day do not know why she asked this) "Did you use the plum sauce in the basket or the door of the freezer?" ......long silence......
"The basket......why?"

"Well....that's the spicy plum sauce, dear."

Now, go back and watch me feed my poor (then 5 month old)  child spicy plum sauce. This reaction has a whole new meaning, doesn't it?

Oops.

And It Scares the S#%$ Out Of You!

 I have read some really cute articles on things little kids say that are really, really creepy. I'll link one here.

 http://www.buzzfeed.com/mattbellassai/the-creepiest-things-a-child-has-ever-said-to-a-parent

Well Kell is ten months and he knows how to say "Mama" (I'll wait for that collective "Aww" to slowly hush away), so he's not telling me creepy things yet, but he does this thing that literally scares the s#$% out of me every time. Allow me to paint this picture for you.

Its been a super long day (they are all long) and I'm pretty beat. I start to get Kell ready for bed at around 7. Its starts with the bath, then the oil rub down, the pajamas, the singing and soft tickles.....that usually does nothing and he will play in the floor until about 8-8:30. Fair enough. Around that time he starts making his rounds around the recliner I am perched in. He cruises by, rubbing one eye, and doing his weird chicken clicking noise. I know he's tired, but he's not ready for me to put him down. No. Of course not. He's merely dropping me little Post-It notes (metaphorically).
Note #1
(Eye rub, chicken cluck, scrunched nose)
"Hey, uh...Mom...I'm tired, but not done being a butthole to the dog, so...yea..I'll be back."

Ten minutes later/ dog is under the table hiding

Note #2
(Eye rub, eyes red, nose scrunched, chicken dying sound)
"Good LAWD, Mom! I'm really dying here, but if you grab me so HELP ME I will freak out on you! Don't you do it!"
I scoop up the child and attempt to nurse him down, he latches, bears down, pulls off, while grabbing the other one, and uses it as a handle bar to flip himself over and slides out of the chair while I try not to come unglued and cry out in pain. At this point the dog has come out from under the table and he's off to torture her some more.

This repeats itself until my mother comes into the room. He will then test her will and see how many time he can sucker her into picking him up. This is a game he does quite frequently. He then finds someone with a plate of something (usually dessert) and spends a good amount of time doing this cute little 2 stepped prance, while holding on to their pants, and cooing to get a few bites of whatever they have. He's a charming little s%#*. Then he will make his way down the hall to see if we left any doors open. He carefully pushes every door to make sure they are latched shut....he's like Homeland Security of the hallway. On his way out of the hallway he stops by the heater vent to practice guitar strumming.

Eventually, he looses the battle of being tired and he will finally calm down. He's asleep (like any man) in 25.7 seconds and its like the whole evening didn't even happen. This small tornado of an almost toddler (that pulls down everything he can reach and squeeze into every hole he can fit himself in) has the most majestically long eyelashes, the most perfect, gentle bridge of the nose, his soft full cheeks begged to be kissed, and his lips lay perfectly parted in the perfect latch. I watch him sleep. I watch his eyelids flutter and his mouth suckle as he dream feeds. The world becomes this warm, ambient glow of love, and I get lost in the precious moment. I rock this child for a while and catch my breath.

After he is good and asleep, I get up and move to the bed. I slowly get up, tell the dog "Let's go to bed", she gets up and slowly trails behind me. I walk down the hall trying to avoid the creaky spots (never works and I never quit trying). When I come into my room I lay him down as steadily as I can. He will twist, turn, and exhale loudly only on occasion stirring enough to open his eyes. I will nestle in and  lay with him for a few minutes to make sure he stays asleep.

Now there are things that every mom needs to do in between the kids going to bed and going to bed herself. My biggest "thing" is pee. I used to be able to pee, wash my face, brush, and floss before bed. Now I'm lucky to pee. I'm the master of removing my makeup via coconut oil and a baby wipe, brushing my teeth at 6:30pm while he's in bath, but peeing...man that one is just a real booger to premeditate.

So here it goes, I manage to get out from under my sleeping child, slide every so gently out of the bed,  then I stand there in this funky pose, like I'm auditioning for Mission Impossible: Broadway, waiting to see if he will notice me being away and fly awake. Hold it. Wait for it. Standing. Don't breath.

Exhale....slowly...SLOWER!

OK. He's not going to wake up. I tip toe very quietly out of the room into the hall. I stop once more in the hall, in my Mission Impossible stance, staring at the bed knowing he's going to wake up. Wait.....wait.....OK. Now I do this incredibly stupid giddy walk/run thing down the hall and  fling myself on the toilet...ahhh.....finally. Relief. I pee as fast as I can and then remember my phone is in the living room. Crap! I sneak back down the hall and peek in the bedroom, he's still laying there all sprawled out perfectly asleep. I do the stupid walk/run thing to the living room, snatch my phone, turn off the light, and head back to the room. I've been gone 12.3 seconds. I enter the room, looking for my perfectly sprawled child on the bed, only to find this creepy,smiling, doll looking child sitting upright in the middle of the bed locking eyes with me.

And it scares the s*&# out of me! My blood runs cold and its like I am seeing a ghost! I have no idea why it scares me so bad, its not like I don't know he's there. I'm constantly amazed at how fast he wakes up. Thankfully, he's really out of it when he does this and it only takes some gentle encouragement to get him to back to sleep. Kids can be super creepy.