Other people's babies

I spend a lovely two hours this morning with Diaper Dame and Dread Pirate Robert and darling Milo. Watching and listening to them I was reminded of all the stress and confusion I felt when Brett was wee. I knew it was my job to make him comfortable, if not happy, and I cried with frustration when it felt so damn hard to accomplish.

I, too, had read all the books and was sure I'd be able to find the page with the right answer every time I needed it. Hah!

But I also remember a time when Brett was about five months old. We were visiting my parents in Toronto and Brett was trying to go to sleep lying on a quilt in the middle of the living room. I was on the phone and various other family members were nearby in the dining room. If you know my family at all, you'll know that the volume is usually on the loud side, if not raucous. Brett was crying (he usually cried as part of getting to sleep ——— I had figured that out by then) and trying to find his thumb. Without interrupting my conversation, I sat beside him and stroked his cheek to help him move his hand (and then his thumb) in the right direction. It took a couple of tries, but he plugged in, stopped crying and was able to sooth himself to sleep.

Brett found his thumb sometime before he was three months old (that photo was taken about that time and he certainly looks like he got it there with no trouble). Milo, tell your parents to hang in there —— working together you'll all figure it out.