Have you ever been watching a predator hunt its prey on the nature documentaries? Depending on what the focus of the documentary is, you end up rooting either for the predator or the prey... I usually root for the predator anyway, they eat less. Today, I found myself sympathizing with the prey for once.
"Go otter, go! Get the fish! Get the fish!.... *otter bites off the tail of the fish* Glad I'm not that fish."
Today, I feel like the fish. I realized today that I actually have to ask Derek for permission to do just about anything..
Can mommy swaddle you for a nap? Can mommy get up really quick to get a drink? Can mommy take a shower? Pretty soon, it's going to be "Can mommy take a nap?" And I hate when the answer is no...
I pretty much cursed myself with the last post - Derek no longer sleeps through the night. He wakes up about every 2-4 hours now. GAH! I pin it down to one of two things (or possibly a bit of both): 1) I had to hold/rock him to sleep Sunday in Relief Society because we were kicked out of Relief Society (I'll come back to that in a bit) or 2) I tried to put him on some semblance of a schedule on Monday. Monday morning, I made Derek wait til 7 am to feed him. Since he woke up at 6:30 and I needed to clean the bottles out anyway, I didn't feel too bad about this. Then, we played until 8:30 when he went down for a nap. Close enough to 9, an extra half hour sleep won't hurt. Woke him up at 11 to feed him and knew I had messed up royally when his eyes snapped open before I even bent over the crib. Uh-oh. Six hours later, after I dump half of dinner down the sink trying to drain it with a screaming child in his bumbo chair three feet away, I place a phone call to Mitch that goes something like this...
"You need to come home now *bloodcurdling screams from Derek in the background*"
"I'm on my way."
Thank heaven that I was able to escape with my former roommate, Milla, to a fun pottery painting place in Orem called Color Me Mine. I'm addicted to painting pottery and it was so much fun to hang out with Milla after not seeing her for several weeks. Mitch requested a mug that said "World's Greatest Dad," and I made a green and maroon bowl and a messed up ring holder... all for just over $20. I love that place. I'll post pictures of the finished products when I pick them up on Saturday.
Derek is cute though...
You know, visiting teaching is an amazing thing. You don't just teach a message but all kinds of lessons pop up. I have realized that, even as a psychology major, I can't do my own therapy. However, just knowing that someone knows I had a bad day, or calls to say hi, or drops off a load of pumpkin bread outside my door is worth hours of therapy. Instant smile and warm fuzzies that last through the day. Plus, one of my teachee's gave me a couple great pieces of advice yesterday: even if you only get the minimum goals done for the day, you still got goals done. And you aren't a bad mother - so stop telling yourself that. Derek still smiles and laughs when he wakes up, he's gaining weight and growing. I'm doing ok.
So, visiting teaching leads to thoughts of Relief Society which leads me back to the story I hinted at earlier: being kicked out of Relief Society. Derek had been fussing, so I naturally got up and went out into the hall to quiet him. He wanted to be held standing up so, since he was quiet now, I leaned against the door frame to listen to the lesson. Don't get me wrong, I love Relief Society and I think our presidency is amazing, but I get really mad when people think you have to be able to hear a pin drop during the lesson. Maybe it's because our ward is more newlywed than parents now, but man it ticks me off. Because another baby was fussing DOWN THE HALL, the door had to be closed on our lesson. Great. So I can't even listen to the lesson and it was a really good one about Adam and Eve (one of my favorite parts of the scriptures). I might as well go home and put my baby down for a nap. This is the third Sunday in a row. Thankfully, one of the counselors had the wonderful idea to open the overflow rubber curtains and let us (yes, not just me) care for our babies where the people on the first row couldn't turn around every time a baby cries, burps or, heaven forbid, they fart. Really loud. What are you, the baby police? Oh, he's farted twice now, he needs to be taken out. She's been crying 10 seconds, take her out. Gah.
OK, done with that vent. Whew. I feel a lot better now. Writing is my favorite kind of therapy because I don't have to pay someone else absurd amounts of money to listen to me talk. Though I wouldn't mind if people paid me absurd amounts of money to listen to them. Funny how that works, isn't it? Anyway, that said, don't feel obligated to read every word I write.
Derek hates tummy time - no matter where it is. He's so cute when he's mad!
Little smirk
He likes to just sit and stare. No problem.
