arsenic hour

Apparently this is a known phenomenon. The early evening hour — that time when parents are just getting home, kids are melting down, and you’d like to either take arsenic or dispense it.

Ha. Ha.

I melt down like clockwork sometime after 5 p.m. and pine for Scott until the bus brings him home from work around 7.

Been meaning to write something lo these last two days but not a minute has been mine between the nursing, the crying, the diaper changing, the attempts at burping (our boy is not a good burper — too bad he doesn’t take after his momma in this regard… didn’t he hear me burping like a sailor all through the pregnancy?… Do sailors burp?).

And the cumulative sleep deprivation.

My brain is soup. And the audience is art (reference to Lily Tomlin, referencing Warhol).

Decided to try the cloth diapers today. Because life isn’t challenging enough really. Not sure I’m so fond of those. I made reference earlier to a problem with the deodorizer disk (I was horribly allergic to it — natural orange oil, bah! Concentrate that stuff and not only does it “deodorize,” but it kills bugs too) that was going to ruin the whole cloth diaper thing for us, but the company kindly replaced the whole order, sans smelly disk, so here we are.

So far the weird plastic “litewrap” diaper cover is not a favorite as it failed to contain the exploding poop this morning. The insanely expensive wool “Stacinator” wraps are much better as they fit well, they contain the mess, and the poop which escapes the cloth diaper washes right off of them. Of course these have to be hand washed rather than machine, and periodically re-lanolinized. Fun fun fun.

Had to readjust the infant car seat to go over his big bulky cloth diapered butt — hadn’t anticipated that!

Yes, car seat. We went on an outing today, with the Post Partum Doula’s assistance, so mommy could go get some acupuncture for her eff’d-up wrists. Doula strapped him into Moby and took him for a walk while I writhed in pain on the table — that was some powerful needle juju. (Psychic chiropractor moved away two weeks before the birth so I’ve had to find a new healer…)

We also went out yesterday. Meant to tell you about that. To the Lactation Consultant. Because my left boob hurts. A lot. She gave us yet another variation on the hold his head and shove your nipple in maneuver, and said that overall, we have a good latch, and I don’t look terribly damaged. A one on a scale of one to ten. Perhaps I’m just very sensitive.

After the appointment, PPD (yes, I took her with me to that too) suggested we go for tea, because I was in such ecstasy at being outside of the house, in a neighborhood of shops and such. Out in the world. So we put him in the Moby on me and went to a café where I had a Mexican Hot Chocolate and a bran muffin and it tasted better than anything I’ve ever eaten or drunk ever. And we walked two blocks after. And then I was tired and we came home.

In other cheerful news, my friend Nina sent me the link to this article that discusses why it’s much better to be a new mother in France (nether region re-education, anyone?).

1 comment for “arsenic hour

  1. Leila
    December 15, 2007 at 12:50 am

    Arsenic hour, yep. And it doesn’t really help to call your friends because that’s when baby is most fussy/needy/nursy and will pull all manner of tricks to keep you from talking on the phone.

    I watched a lot of old sitcoms on Fox from 2000-2001 thanks to arsenic hour. Friends, Fraser, the occasional Star Trek series rerun. And my only experience with Oprah dates from that time, even though she comes on at 4. Just in time to settle in for the arsenic.

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