When Alex first arrived, Monkey and I we…

When Alex first arrived, Monkey and I were equally screwed.  Yes, I babysat a great deal as a kid, and helped raise two nieces, but had never dealt with a newborn on an ongoing, never-get-a-break basis.  When he screamed, we looked at each other with the exact same amount of confusion and terror.  We were on even footing.  Now, though, I’m pulling away in deciphering the Rosetta Stone that is our child.  I can tell the difference between a whiny cry and a OMGTHEREISSOMETHINGWRONG cry without looking.  I can tell by the way he moves his chest when he is ready for a burp, and can generally get a large one out of him relatively quickly.  I can tell if he is hungry even before he starts eating his hands.  Monkey can as well, but I can do it faster. Have I tapped into the secrets of Motherhood?  Do I have magical XX based knowledge?  Of course not.  Fact is, I spend 22 hours a day with my child, and on average 10 of those are just me and him, so I’ve simply had more chances to figure him out.  (A moment to give mad props to my hubby – when he comes home, he takes the kid and insists I go away – take a bath, sleep, do something entirely on my own, while he looks after Weapon.  On the weekends he even lets me skip a feed and sleep for like 4-5 hours without interruption.  I HAVE A GOOD MAN.)  Yet, I feel bad for my hubs, as he can spend 20 mins trying to calm down Weapon, only to have me swoop in and settle him within a few moments.  Now to be fair, I generally shove a boob in his mouth (which can shut up nearly anyone), but it’s the principle of the thing.  Mommy can make it all better, Daddy can’t, and that is unfair and untrue.  I’ve simply had the opportunity to try and fail more times. 

And Weapon is scrambling (probably working on a poopie diaper), I better go.