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The three of us went to a pizza-and-poker party last night, organized by a member of the mothers' group I used to attend. It's a younger generation of the group; Alex was the oldest baby there by a month, and most of the kids were six to eight weeks old. The differences were remarkable. It really gave me a sense of how far we've come - hopefully, it gave some of the parents of younger babies hope that things get better.
For example: eight o'clock rolled around. I popped Alex in the sling, fed her the tail end of her bottle, put the corner of her "sleepy blanket" in her hands, and gave her a pacifier. Within about five minutes she was soundly asleep. She stirred a little every time the host fired up the noisy electric card shuffler, but she pretty much slept solidly until we put her in her carseat to go home. She has a predictable biological rhythm, and eight is when she's ready to go to sleep for the rest of the evening. Most of the other babies present still had patchy, unpredictable patterns, and most of them seemed to be difficult to soothe to sleep.
I do wonder how much of the awfulness of the first two months can be put down to parental inexperience rather than infant difficulty. One six-week-old last night was just screaming endlessly - he didn't respond to swaddling or a bottle or being changed. His father told me, "sometimes he just screams and screams, and there's nothing you can do."
"Does he like an airplane hold?" I asked. I picked up the baby and turned him over on his stomach, my left hand under his chest (the thumb and forefinger supporting his head) and my right hand under his crotch. His arms and legs dangled free. He instantly stopped crying and looked around the room. And he stayed quiet for a nice long stretch of time. I felt like a genius, but of course all I am is a mother with an additional eight weeks of experience.
I was the only woman who played poker. Sadly for my responsibility to represent my gender, I quickly lost my $4 buy-in due to a combination of inexperience and bad luck. The one time I got lucky on my hole cards, with a pair of eights, the community cards included 10 J K A, and two people had Queens for a straight. And the one time I had a good final hand - two pair, Queens high - Michael had a better two pair in his hand. Alas. He at least defended the honor of the family, finishing $1.35 up.
It was a fun evening, and everyone was very nice, but at the same time I don't feel like we have anything but babies in common. The exception is the father of the six-week-old screamer, who is a doctoral student in forensic toxicology. I resisted the urge to make a CSI joke - I'm sure he hears them all the time - and we had a lovely conversation about endocannabinoids and the joys of doing research in inner city Baltimore. Their family also lives downtown, which gives us something else in common - the others were all from the suburbs. So we exchanged e-mail addresses, and maybe we'll get together again.
For example: eight o'clock rolled around. I popped Alex in the sling, fed her the tail end of her bottle, put the corner of her "sleepy blanket" in her hands, and gave her a pacifier. Within about five minutes she was soundly asleep. She stirred a little every time the host fired up the noisy electric card shuffler, but she pretty much slept solidly until we put her in her carseat to go home. She has a predictable biological rhythm, and eight is when she's ready to go to sleep for the rest of the evening. Most of the other babies present still had patchy, unpredictable patterns, and most of them seemed to be difficult to soothe to sleep.
I do wonder how much of the awfulness of the first two months can be put down to parental inexperience rather than infant difficulty. One six-week-old last night was just screaming endlessly - he didn't respond to swaddling or a bottle or being changed. His father told me, "sometimes he just screams and screams, and there's nothing you can do."
"Does he like an airplane hold?" I asked. I picked up the baby and turned him over on his stomach, my left hand under his chest (the thumb and forefinger supporting his head) and my right hand under his crotch. His arms and legs dangled free. He instantly stopped crying and looked around the room. And he stayed quiet for a nice long stretch of time. I felt like a genius, but of course all I am is a mother with an additional eight weeks of experience.
I was the only woman who played poker. Sadly for my responsibility to represent my gender, I quickly lost my $4 buy-in due to a combination of inexperience and bad luck. The one time I got lucky on my hole cards, with a pair of eights, the community cards included 10 J K A, and two people had Queens for a straight. And the one time I had a good final hand - two pair, Queens high - Michael had a better two pair in his hand. Alas. He at least defended the honor of the family, finishing $1.35 up.
It was a fun evening, and everyone was very nice, but at the same time I don't feel like we have anything but babies in common. The exception is the father of the six-week-old screamer, who is a doctoral student in forensic toxicology. I resisted the urge to make a CSI joke - I'm sure he hears them all the time - and we had a lovely conversation about endocannabinoids and the joys of doing research in inner city Baltimore. Their family also lives downtown, which gives us something else in common - the others were all from the suburbs. So we exchanged e-mail addresses, and maybe we'll get together again.
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Poor, poor exhausted new parents. :-)
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Sigh. It's not really poker. It's an interesting game but to really play it there have to be no limits becuase it's really a game about manipulating the cash in play to to force decisions.
It's practically gambling.
:)
TK