Funny story...I typed up a fairly admirable post about what I'm about to write about again and Blogger decided that it wasn't worth the time to publish. My creative juices flow so rarely these days I must take any opportunity to post when it strikes. That said, pardon me if this post is crap. I have every confidence that the earlier one was superior. Blogger bastards.
So, first of all I want to thank all of you for your wonderful comments to my last post. You have no idea how helpful they were. I feel so alone on the bad days and it does help to read genuine assertions that everything will be ok. I know the gist of a lot of the comments was that this rough period would pass, much like all the assvice I received before. The difference is that your comments are heartfelt, born of recent experience and lack the condescension I get from people in everyday life.
I've arrived at the conclusion that P. has colic and GERD, as commenter Jen suggested. Speaking of which - Jen, the link connected to your name is dead so would you mind emailing me? I have consistently told the Health Visitor, midwife and GP that I suspect GERD (fabulous name) and they have ignored me. It was confirmed today that P. is not gaining much weight at all, which, hey, lends creedence to what I have been saying for months. Imagine. I have an appointment with the GP next week to decide what to do next. I'll try to refrain from pushing the GERD agenda too much, but I really hope something can be done.
Jumping swiftly from my excellent diagnostic skills to my rather suspect parenting behaviour, I thought I'd put down in writing how I'm surely compromising my child's current and future well-being.
As mentioned previously, P. has turned into quite the crier. Morning, afternoon, early evening. Whatever. She's going to cry about it. Once all the traditional methods have been exhausted - rocking, swinging, happy time in the vibrating chair, cuddling, swaddling, back patting, etc., I have to resort to the devil in the form of a 42" wall-mounted plasma TV. I know, I know. You needn't tell me how naughty this is, I was raised on PBS and nature programmes, I know the evils of television. However, it calms her down almost immediately, and when your ears are ringing from having a baby wail in your ear for 20 minutes straight, you'd dangle her out the window by her toes if it meant she'd shut up for just a moment.
Our general protocol is to put on some good old fashioned hip hop and rap videos, so on with the quality parenting! I go right to MTV Base when the screaming commences, none of that adult contemporary John Mayer shit on VH1 and its various incarnations for us. P. shows a particular fondness for Jay-Z, Snoop, Kanye West and Missy Elliott. Basically, your average nearly 3 month old tastes. I cradle her facing the television, then do booty dances for the entirety of the videos. She really enjoys it and cries again when I stop because I'm too damn tired to continue. Some may question the wisdom of introducing the world of pimps, dropping it like its hot, and how to strong arm a ho to a child of her age. I say it's just preparation for the real world. I suppose a benefit is that the language is censored in the videos so it's only images of women shaking their badunkadunks that may influence future behaviour.
I ask you, what is wrong with a bit of badunkadunk?
NB: I desperately want to change the template of my blog. Any suggestions of someone who can help design one for me would be very much appreciated.