Today, I sat with Calli in her nursery, having a quiet feeding. We were upstairs because Andrea was napping in the living room. As she gripped my finger and dozed, I just relished the sweet peacefulness of the scene, made all the sweeter because of the terrible evenings she's been giving me.
For some reason, in the window between six & seven PM, she transforms into some strange shrieking beast! So I pat her back until she burps or spits-up, or both, and she continues to freak the eff out! Often, she's just fussy until about 8 when Andrea goes up for a bath, then it's full-on banshee action!
Are you picking-up on the frustration, here? I'm told that I shouldn't take it personally, and I mentally don't, but when she's making my ears buzz from overload (really, that's not a poetic statement, they really buzz like an overloaded speaker!), I begin to think that she hates me!
Thank God she's just a delight for the rest of the day! I know that these thoughts are totally unreasonable, and that they'll all be forgotten when she takes her first steps, or says “Daddy.” But on these evenings, I need to hide sharp objects, or I'll unload my gun, so to speak.
Andrea: “How was she last night?”
Me: “Great, when she found out that she'd be an only child. Could you grab me a coffee? I should keep these frozen peas where they are.”
Of course, I'm just venting. For most of the day, she's great. Even when she's fussy, it doesn't get to that tragedy-pitch very often. Some believe that babies pick up on their parents stress. In that case, I can blame some others, outside my home, for their harassment campaign giving me grief! GET A NEW HOBBY, PH'KHOLS!
Well, that feels better to get that off my chest! Can I assume that it gets worse with teething?