Loose Gravel

I moved the boy to her side when he started crying a few minutes ago and then started waiting for my cue to put him down again in the nursery. I have figured out since becoming a dad months ago that I distract from the nursing process. I make noise when I move. Can't help it. I'm huge and heavy, and I plod over old creaking pine floors. When he detects me, the boy turns from the breast to look at me and smiles widely. But his distraction only prolongs the feeding process, and I consequently draw the ire of my beleaguered new-mom wife. So nursing between mother and son means dad leaves room to do something else, but remains tuned-in just in case I'm needed. 

So I sit here in the living room of my home writing this blog post and avoiding being a distraction to the feeding process. At 11:40 pm I check on things, and the two of them are snoozing away as though this had been the plan all along. While lying a bit in my portion of the bed, I note that he's even snoring a little bit like me. I leave them alone and return to the living room, eyes starting to burn. 

The boy had a cold recently, maybe because he started teething. Speculating about his symptoms and behaviors for this and that is a daily dialogue with my wife. One will wonder aloud, and the other posits back: 

"Why won't he eat his rice cereal anymore? He eats when grandma feeds him." 

-Maybe he knows you are the person who nurses him, and he doesn't want to eat solids from you. 

"Why has he been waking up 3-5 times each night this week?" 

-Maybe he going through a developmental change. 

"He won't eat green beans." 

-Maybe he likes the squash too much and doesn't want to eat something different. 

This is our new, never-ending, rarely solvable swirl of conversation related to the pragmatics of parenting a little baby. To my horror, I allowed these thoughts, these little tidbits of minutia to ooze into my dialogue in other venues. On more than one occasion I became suddenly aware of my utter boredom mid-conversation with co-workers, and immediately disgusted that it was I that one that brought up the topic. Other times I've just quit talking mid sentence: 

"Hi Gavin, how was your weekend?" 

-Hi Bob, well, the boy was up till 2am Saturday night and we think it was gas....ummm...you know what? I'm just going to stop now. I literally cannot finish this thought with you, I'm so boring. 

It's 12:20 am and I don't hear anything back there. I think they've turned in for the night. Looks like this couch is my nursery tonight. I still hear Dr. Karp's Soothing Sounds cd is playing. Maybe I'll just listen to that...