wednesday’s child went shopping

And Thursday’s child went to yoga and then out a-visiting friends.

Who is this new and improved baby?

Is it the fact that I’ve stopped eating dairy? Or is it a developmental leap he’s made? Or both? (I am too tired to figure out the new poll tool I’ve downloaded, so for now, please just vote in the comments field below.)

Yesterday, the weather was gorgeous. By about 10:30 a.m. we’d finished our rounds of nursing and diapering and he was asleep on me in the Bjorn and I decided to make a break for it. To leave the house without any scheduled appointments. To just go out.

He slept through the transfer to baby bucket, drive to shopping district, and through about 20 minutes of me running around the clothing store grabbing everything that looked promising (i.e.: any color other than black, size large, machine washable). He woke up just as I got into the dressing room. I told the saleslady I needed to nurse. No problem. We nursed, we diapered, and then he sat fairly patiently and watched while I tried everything on. And then we diapered again.

In the end, I purchased one pair of pants, one t-shirt, one sweatshirt.

I put him in the Bjorn (faithful readers may wonder why I’m now Bjorning instead of Moby-ing… while I love the cosy tight soft swaddle-effect of the Moby, Bjorn is actually a lot easier to put on, especially on the go, and easier to transfer him to and from bucket, once you get the hang of all the dang straps, snaps, and doohickeys) and he promptly fell asleep while I bought lunch — sandwich to be eaten one-handed as needed.

Next we hit the BeneFit store, which is a kind of McDonald’s for brow maintenance. He slept while I sat on a barstool and had my face quickly dispatched by a large and beautiful woman with perfect brows — who is also an older mom of a three-year-old, she told me.

After that we went to another clothing store, where nothing fit (insert sad face here) and then he was fussy and the kind salesladies invited me to sit in the store’s big leather armchair (usually the repository of patient boyfriends/husbands) and nurse, so I did. And of course we needed to diaper — so we did, with permission, in the dressing room, and just before leaving I spotted two more tops to try on which fit (!) and bought both — hopefully because I liked them and not because I felt grateful or guilty for using their facilities because that much money it shouldn’t have to cost for a baby pit stop.

It is kind of like that — change tires, check oil, return to track… makes me think there might be a market for a nurse-and-diaper cafe on that particular street anyway, as this is quite a stroller derby-type area. You could charge a fee and dole out nursing pillows (like bowling shoes), have a vending machine full of diapers and wipes and fresh onesies in case of blow-outs. And of course lots of comfy armchairs.

Pushing my luck, I actually put him into the car again and drove to another area to get more nursing bras. Again, he fussed, and again I was offered a chair for nursing.

Maybe I was high on all the fresh air, but we actually made one more stop, before heading home, at the chichi health emporium known as Elephant. The bathroom had a changing station which we used twice during our visit, and they offered us a folding chair when I asked a salesperson if we could nurse. (Yes, the boy nurses a lot. At least the two hour nursathons have abated for now and it’s just these frequent shorter jags.)

Today he was lovely again — a little fussy in the morning which I blame on last night’s Chinese food which included broccoli. (Here’s a white noise download I found which may or may not have soothed him; I find it very relaxing, myself.)

In fact he was so chill during yoga, the teacher was astonished — and very glad for both of us.

Now that going out is getting easier, we visited with friends at their homes this afternoon and he took his long nap in the Bjorn while we went on a walk.

Of course, he still has his moments, at night especially, and whenever he gets tired (please, put me to sleep, I hate you, make my pain stop, I don’t want to sleep, what are you doing? I need to sleep, please, I hate you, make this stop, I’m so tired, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!).

Still, the agonizing, skin curling, blood curdling, endless shrieking seems to have abated, for now. Knock wood three times, cross fingers, spit over your shoulder.