He doesn't have any interest in doing things like clapping or high fiving or waving. He doesn't want to point at things in books or on toys, etc. He isn't trying to talk, he has seemingly no interest in walking (not even if we hold his hands in the classic way and try to walk with him. Hell, he doesn't even table walk; preferring, instead, to get down on the floor from being up at the table and crawling over to what he wants, then standing up at the table or couch again). He doesn't want to eat solids. At. All. He refuses to sit in his high chair, insisting on sitting in my lap. He still wakes up at least four times a night (much, much more on a bad night). He has been teething for what seems like weeks with no new tooth in sight (he only has six teeth and will be one in a few weeks). He still wants to be held ALL THE TIME. Like, really, ALL THE TIME. He still won't sleep for more than 20 minutes if I lay him down by himself but will sleep for 2 hours if I hold him (I'm holding him, sleeping, right now, too. All 25lbs of dead weight). He still won't spend more than ten minutes with his dad before coming to find me and freaking out if I won't pick him up and hold him immediately.
This has all been making me feel like maybe I'm doing something wrong or like maybe he's never going to grow (I know, I know, he'll grow eventually... but I sure don't feel like that right now). I feel like this will never end and I'm starting to feel like I want him to progress to something new now. I'd like it if he was walking or talking or could wave bye-bye or clap his hands (I know people whose five month olds do the latter two). I want to put him down for a nap and fold laundry without it all being unfolded faster than I can fold it. I want to put him down to bed at night and sit with my husband for a while alone. We haven't spent more than 20 minutes alone at a time since he was born. I am not exaggerating.
On top of it, I'm feeling rather run down. I just had the chicken pox (no, I had never had them before) and then The Smiler had the chicken pox on the tail of my bout. The Carpenter has been working long hours, six days a week for too long. Now The Smiler is teething and has a very stuffy, runny nose. He's been so grumpy for weeks now. He has a meltdown at the drop of a hat. Literally, yesterday, he was playing with The Carpenter's hat, dropped it and proceeded to treat us to a nice, long, back arching, arm flailing fit - even though said hat was immediately picked up and being handed back to him. Our good friend was tragically killed last week and her partner (also a dear friend) is left to mourn, needing support I don't have much of to give.
|The Smiler with all his spots|
I wish I this was the paragraph where I zip this up into something that has some sort of meaning. I wish this was the paragraph where I found some silver lining and had something really uplifting and profound to say. I wish this was the paragraph where I turned my frown upside down and cheered myself, and everyone else, up. It's not, though.
This is the paragraph where I say that I don't know what to do. I don't know how to encourage my child to move forward. I don't know how to encourage better sleep in him. I don't know how to find more time for much needed connection with The Carpenter. I don't know how to get my husband to not be needed so much at work and, if I did, I don't know how to get more money by working less. I don't know how to bring back the dead or turn back the clock. I don't know how to quell countless meltdowns or make little boys with runny noses and heads so stuffy they can't nurse effectively so they cry, only making more mucous, happier. I don't know how.
I'll keep trying and get back to you, though.