The triple whammy of Bea’ing (queue eebee)

Oh crap, I spoke too soon. Just last week I was telling friends and family that Bea was sleeping through the night. Sure, she fed at least once a night, but for the most part she was sleeping, which meant Mama was sleeping, which meant I was sleeping.

Until the other night:

"Aaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeee!"

Baby nightmare? Scared me to death, but when Mama pulled her into bed from the bassinet and fed her, I thought all is well.

Then a few hours later:

"Aaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeee!"

Baby nightmare again? Gassy? Teething?

The trippy whammy, Sammy. Yep, I spoke too soon.

"Aaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeee!"

We try to limit detrimental adult stimuli during the day – TV, hardcore rap, industrial death metal, Stephen King short stories, the wood chipper, firing the gun into the ceiling, etc. However, we think it has more to do with being gassy and the fact that the teething has begun.

No teeth have erupted yet, but she's drooling and chewing and fussing off and on.

"Aaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeee!"

And the gassiness just kicked up a notch a few days ago – burp, toot, toot, burp, burp (Morse code for growing pains?). We've been making the move to organics across the board, but I can't imagine that being the issue. We did start her on banana-breast-milk mash about three weeks ago, which she loves, so maybe that's it.

Mama went from pseudo-vegetarian to hot little carnivore, so maybe the beef's got something to do with it?

As I'm typing this I hear:

"Aaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeee!"

Queue eebee. Amy found it on our cable on-demand kids channel last week and I watched it with Bea this morning. We were both so excited, drooling and flailing our arms and legs like over-turned bugs in the hot sun.

I have seen joy incarnate, and it is eebee.

I love eebee.

More on eebee later...

The B tantrum classic – “Not the mama, not the mama!”

A couple of months ago we were going for stroll/hike with little Bea up at Henry Cowell State Park, and right before we left we witnessed this exchange between a mother and young daughter:

The young daughter cried and whined while walking quickly away from her mother.

The mother called out, "You know, four-year-olds don't throw tantrums."

The daughter fired back, "Oh yes they do!"

Classic.

Last night, little Bea played on the floor with Daddy, laughing and gurgling and talking baby jive (excuse me stewardess, I speak jive), while Mama worked on the computer.

Then Bea was done. And as I held her in my arms trying to keep her calm, she threw an infant tantrum – flailing her legs, making fists, burying and rubbing her face against my chest, drooling and snotting on my chest, and crying with a reverse wheeze on the inhale.

Classic.

I commented on Facebook and one of friends reminded me of that old Jim Henson production from the early 90s titled Dinosaurs. Every time the daddy dinosaur got close to the baby dinosaur, the baby would cry out, "Not the mama, not the mama!"

Classic.

I don't take the infant tantrums personally because they aren't personal. They're primal. Beatrice just wanted Mama and Mama's milk, plain and simple.

Here's a great tip from an expert on BabyCenter.com:

Babies have an amazing — and often aggravating — ability to make demands. But your baby needs to know that you care about her feelings, even when she expresses them by screaming or flailing her fists. It may look like she's throwing a fit, but she's really seeking reassurance. As long as you stick with your original decision — for instance, that she can't play with the remote control — no one can accuse you of "giving in." You're just giving her what she needs.

But, when Bea wants the boobs, I can't give her what she needs – not the mama, not the mama.

Sigh.