a big, fat baby. And for some reason, I keep expecting him to sleep through the night consistently, be more predictable, and order me new jeans online. But sadly, he’s just a baby.

I sat in the nursery last night from 2:30am until 4:15am trying to get him back to sleep and help him breathe through his nose because while his brother may not share his toys, he certainly shares his colds. When I finally got him to sleep at 4:15, I walked out of the nursery with a swagger thinking, “Now, he’ll just cruise on until 7”.

That’s adorable.

Cue 5:30am when he wakes screaming because the snot monsters have invaded his nose and his usual ammo of his paci is rendered useless against them.

Obviously my first thoughts were , “Dammit! It’s 5:30! Breath through your mouth like a normal mouth breather!”  I mean, “Poor child, let me help you.”

So I tried but apparently 5:30 was the acceptable wake up time for this morning. As I shuffled around feeling defeated and ashamed at my nurturing attempts,  my sweet mama came in and told me to go back to bed and she was wide awake and would handle him for a few hours.

So I did. And as I laid in bed I heard her laughing downstairs with him and playing as if it wasn’t 5:30 in the morning. Because she knew he was a baby.

The hardest part I think for me is that there isn’t a formula or a fix-all. He’s not like Bud, so a lot of things that worked for Bud don’t work for him. And he’s not predictable because he’s still trying to figure this life out (I don’t have the heart to tell him that I’ll be trying to figure it out until I die and they throw me my Willy Wonka themed funeral). And I forgot how crazy the first year can be because as soon as you think you’ve hit a good stride, a kink gets thrown into the chain. Whether it be sickness, teething, or growth spurts, he’s a big baby. A big, adorable baby who likes to keep me on my knees  toes.