We were unwrapping and everything, and we looked over, and the poor thing was fast asleep.
My grandfather made this little wagon when he was a teen. He made it with a harness to hitch to their family dog to haul his little sister around. My dad brought it out to put Liam in for a sort of generations picture. Liam was a little less than thrilled. Maybe next year.
My tiny little bundle.
Oh this child. I love his little face so much. Those big eyes suck me in every time.
My biggest struggle this Christmas season was just finding my place among the grandmas. Sometimes I think they forget that I'm the mom now and they're just...the help. Which I'm certain to ask for if I need it. My poor son was so overstimulated, he slept from 10PM to 10:30AM the next morning on the day after Christmas. He was handed from person to person and jumped and jiggled and cooed and kissed and he was very very fussy.
We were at my uncle's house, and I was playing with Liam and my cousins were oogling him and whatnot. My mom took him and sat in front of the fire with him and he started to get warm. To which she says to me, "I think he has a fever." I told her I didn't think so, that he was probably just warm from the fire. I asked to hold him and see him so I could feel if he was sick or not. She said, "It's a wonder I ever raised you without your help." I was very upset. She then kept him for the rest of the evening.
Christmas Eve we had a small get together, I escaped to our bedroom to feed Liam (which is my go-to scenario. "Can I hold him?" oh sorry, he needs to eat. From me. "Can I see your baby?" Mmm...sorry he needs breastfed.) I couldn't find the baby. My mom had him and was changing him. I took him downstairs in his jammies (he was getting tired and cranky) and my MIL decided she would hold him while I ate. And he screamed. And screamed. And screamed. And I was secretly happy, because I just wanted my son. I took him from her and he burrowed his little baby head into my neck and promptly fell asleep.
New Years Eve we were at my parents. We spent the night, which was fine. We slept with the snuggle nest between us and the little bug kept inching his way down and down the bed, out of the snuggle nest. I think I got about two winks all night, just terrified that he was going to get lodged somewhere between the covers while he was wiggling around.
I think the poopy hit the fan on New Years Day. Liam was crying and my sister was holding him. And then she handed him TO MY MOM and said, "Here mom, he's crying." I'm pretty sure I lost it. I was in shock a little, but I think I lost it. I said, "Excuse me? I'M THE MOM." My mom rolled her eyes and sighed, "Yes Libbie. We all know you're the mom." My sister just sighed as well and took the baby from my mom and handed him to me. Where he promptly stopped crying.
Andy did the SAME THING. Liam was crying. Mom said, "I'll take him." And he gave him to her. And then she escaped with him once again. And the daggers I shot through my eyes in the general direction allowed him to know he was in trouble. "WHY would you not have given him to ME if he was crying!" I guess Andy thought he was helping when he went BACK to my mom and said, "My wife is having baby withdrawals and she wants the baby back but can't seem to bring herself to tell you that." My mom handed him over to Andy, thanking him for speaking to her. And then she wouldn't speak to me the entire rest of the night.
Is it so wrong that I want to be the mom? Do they think that they're actually helping me? When I need help, I will ask. But don't take my son from me! Seriously! I have to work 40+ hours a week, if you count commuting and violin lessons, it's more like 50 hours a week. I get him in the evening and weekends, and then really I get to just feed him and put him to sleep. My mom gets him the majority of the time, so when I see him, I want to see him 100%. I don't want to share.
My mom has since threatened to go back to work. "Fine," she reports. "I'll just call Jean and get my old job back." Really mom? Really? Because I want to have "custody" of my son? It's infuriating. Do you think I WANT to work? Do you think this is fun for me? My son will most likely take his first steps in front of someone else. Say his first words. Hit his first milestones. All in front of someone else. Don't take it personally when I want to hold him when I have him- because it doesn't happen often.
To be continued...