Feb. 28th, 2013

jethrien: (Default)
I spend so much of the day holding the little guy that when I'm half asleep and not holding him, I still think I am.

Chuckro and I both (used to) sleep with stuffed animals. (My shoulder tends to hurt less when there's something between my elbows.) I've had to stop, recently--I keep waking up, panicking that I've taken the baby to bed and now he's under the covers and smothering. My body just assumes that anything in my arms is him. A couple nights ago, I woke up furious with Chuckro for bringing him to bed. I reached out to check the kid's breathing, wondering where on earth we got that ridiculous hat, before I realized that the "baby" was actually Rocky the stuffed raccoon.

Last night, I poked Chuckro awake. "Go put him down," I said. Chuckro made it all the way to the crib, and came back confused. "He's sleeping," he said. "He's not fussing at all." Upon which I realized that I'd woken him up and sent him to go put Rocky in the crib.

Later, he rolled over towards the edge of the bed, and I jumped to catch him before he could roll off the bed. Like I'd reach out to keep the baby from rolling off my lap, only I'm pretty sure Chuckro is old enough not to fall out of bed.

So the poor guy got woken up twice last night by my crazy.

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jethrien

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