The internet was broken this weekend at the House O' Lemons. This did not stop Mr Lemon from bringing down the only radio in the house - my alarm clock - and listening to Kentucky get stomped Saturday night.
No baby yet. Things are a little different this time around. I'm not scared of having a contraction, but I also don't start writing down a time every time I have one. I also don't call the doctor just because I've had contractions for an hour, even though their handy little piece of paper says "call if you are contracting regularly for an hour." Why call? They're just going to tell me to sit down, put my feet up, and drink water.
We're waiting to call the doctor until I know it's real this time. Like the kind of contractions that I can't talk, walk, or sleep through. The kind that make me tackle my husband in the night. Not the kind that just put a funny expression on my face. Those are just puny.
But, tonight is the full moon, so I've got my hospital bags and Zesty's go-away-to-somewhere-else bag packed. All the baby's stuff is washed and put away, the bassinet is ready, and I took Zesty for a nice long walk today in the stroller. Now he's pushing the umbrella stroller around the living room. Which is a nice change from pulling the books off the bookshelf.
And right after I typed that about the full moon, I decided to go on a little Google trip and see if I could find any cool convincing websites about babies being born under a full moon. Can't really find any that have conclusive studies, just that the lunar cycle could affect the pressure of the amniotic sac.
Not that I could tell if my water has broken or not. I've been violently coughing (read: no bladder control) with an upper respiratory infection for over a week now (it's better, thanks for asking) but this weekend I am not ashamed to say that I wore one of Zesty's disposable diapers to bed each night so that I wouldn't wet the bed while Mr Lemon was home. Let's just say I've really been keeping up on the laundry, since I only have one jean skirt that fits me right now.
Segue to a more pressing matter ... Sunday morning my son was h.o.r.r.i.b.l.e. in church. Smacking at me, pulling my glasses off my face, etc, etc, etc. Kind ladies tried to distract him with toys and cereal, all of which I -hopefully politely- refused because when he is in a temper fit, he will look for stuff to throw. He'll ask for his paci just to be able to throw it. If we're at home, I just put him in his crib until he calms down, but what do you do with your kids in public? I'm not afraid to smack a hand or take him to the bathroom for a talk with the spanking spoon, but he just would.not.stop. until Daddy came down off the platform from playing the drums. I realize it's a phase, but what do you do until the phase passes?
3 comments:
Unfortunately, the only answer I know is to just get through it the best you can. The work you're doing at home will pay off--in public you just get through.
One thing might be to take him to the car and belt him in his seat belt until he calms down? Just going outside might calm him down; change of scenery and all that.
Jeana - I did take him to the bathroom, and he would calm down, and as soon as I brought him back to the sanctuary, he'd start swatting my face again. Mr Lemon took him to the kitchen/nursery/soundroom to roam during the preaching. Granted, I am not the normal caretaker during worship service, but I'm on maternity leave from the music for awhile. I thought I could handle him. Clearly, I was mistaken. :>)
You spend a lot of time weeping. . . the good thing about it is because your in church they think you are praying. ;o)
Actually, you just stay consistent and you will get through it. There were a hand full of times, just a hand full that Linton would actually come down off the platform and take Sam out for a talk. Daddy's have some power that just makes it known that that is enough. In the meantime, you just endure and pray. I wish there was something else to say.
Hang in there mama and keep those feet up!! :o)
Post a Comment