Feed on

Most Sundays Matt’s band practices from 5-8 p.m. in our basement. Since Simon came along, that leaves me looking for a place to grab dinner and hang out for the evening, as the downstairs is too loud for Simon when the band is going strong.

So the routine is that I head over to my mom’s, and she cooks dinner for me. It works out well: I get to eat a well rounded meal, and Simon gets to preserve his hearing. And in theory, it means my mom gets good Simon and Bubbie time on a regular basis. In theory.

The first few weeks all went according to plan. I’d arrive, nurse Simon, put him in his Baby Papasan or swing, eat dinner, get him down for a nap, then nurse him again and head home. One of those early weeks Simon flashed his first truly social smile right at my mom–a great big gummy smile for his Bubbie. It was awesome.

Then, a few weeks later, I came over and Simon fussed the whole time. No big deal, I thought. It was bound to happen at some point. Except, then Mom came over to our house a few days later, and Simon was super crabby the whole time. And then Matt and I went over to Mom’s house for dinner together, and Simon cried a ton and never settled down for a good nap.

Worse yet, everything Mom did to make him feel better just seemed to tick him off more.  Mom would adjust his clothing, he’d scream. She’d go to put his pacifier back in his mouth, he’d scream. She’d wipe spit off of his face, he’d scream. She’d look at him cock-eyed, he’d scream. You get the idea.

Mom took this all in stride, but it was beginning to look personal! In fact, when Mom babysat Simon on Saturday, she even made a joke about how he could dislike her all he wanted, she was still going to love him (for now). And wouldn’t you know it, he got crabby on her while we were off having dinner.

So tonight as I packed up the Papasan and diaper bag to head over to Mom’s, I was more than a little worried. Would he pitch a screaming fit again? I mean, I can’t keep telling her about Simon’s napping for Grandma, smiling for Grandma, and cooing for Grandma if he’s ticked off every time Bubbie is within 50 feet. That’s just not right.

Well thank goodness, tonight he rallied. He napped long enough for me to eat. He nursed well twice. He had a good hour of awake time during which my Aunt Linda delighted him with funny faces and he smiled and cooed at her and my mom. Mom held him, and he smiled and was content. It was a very good visit. The curse was lifted. Huzzah!

Except… Earlier this afternoon, my mother-in-law came over, tried to give Simon a bottle, and he flipped out on her. My rational mind knows that the problem was that we stupidly went about three weeks without offering Simon a bottle and now must pump and bottle feed once a day to get him reacclimated. My irrational mind, however, is a mite worried that my son is simply incapable of being in a good mood for both grandmothers at the same time.

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