Crying

Silvia is a sweet baby, she really is. She loves me and Anna and... well, she thinks Kurt's pretty neat, too. So long as she's not hungry/tired/needy/etc. Silvia is a mommy's girl. It's been a slow gradual development, but we've gotten to the point where pretty much no one else can hold her except me without bringing on The Face. You know the one, right? The one that starts with the lower lip pout and watery eyes, and then disintergrates into full on fury within a few moments.

She wants her momma, it's true. It's been hard on Kurt, who's such a devoted dad. Sometimes I try to sneak away for a few hours and, guaranteed, when I walk in the door I can hear her wailing upstairs as he tries to rock her, completely resigned to her wails. It's not every time I leave, but it seems to happen with an alarming regularity. Guess who feels ever so slightly trapped by baby love? Go on, guess! You'll never figure it out!

My solution was idealistic in the extreme. I had this plan- no, more than a plan, it was a VISION. I decided that we, as a family, would go every morning to the gym, drop the girls in the happy daycare where they would be happy and cheery and also very cute. I would sweat out my stress in an up-beat exercise class while Kurt lifted weights, I'd drop the last of the post-pregnancy weight, and we'd all start the weekend chipper and revived from our fabulous morning at World Gym.

Here's what really happened:

I dropped the girls in the daycare while Silvia was still sleeping and as soon as I tried to leave, Anna started crying and whining. Distracting her momentarily, I slipped out. Kurt headed off to the weights and I started on the cardio machines (not being so delusional as to think I'd make it through a full class on the first try). Precisely 7 minutes later, the daycare worker came to get me. Silvia had woken up hysterical and would not calm down. Anna was freaking out because a stranger was holding "My Silvia" and "My Silvia is crying!!!". The moment I walked in, Anna had a complete melt-down and Silvia was totally inconsolable.

I spent the next 40 minutes driving around, trying to get the baby to stop crying, while Anna sang preschool songs at the top of her lungs. Kurt finished his workout, the first he's been able to do in months. When we got home, I ran on the treadmill for 20 minutes and pretended I could make it to the Escapeland if only I ran faster. Sigh... oh, well. It was a pipe dream anyway. I've still got my treadmill, now I just need to find the time to use it!

Speaking of driving around with Silvia, we're having some serious troubles in the car with her. She hates it. HATES. Mostly she'll cry and fuss and I'll drive around with my shoulder partially out of socket so I can hold her pacifier in until she falls asleep, but sometimes... sometimes it's bad. Sometimes she cries and cries and screams and wails and shakes and hiccups and throws up and then cries some more. It's so weird, I thought babies were supposed to love the car, but she really can't stand it. We're supposed to drive up to Fort Collins next week, a two hour drive each way, and I'm starting to think we just can't go. I'm afraid I'll go insane. It's awful, because you can't really do anything to help her feel better except get her out of the car, and sometimes, let's face it, we just have to drive places.

So that's what we're dealing with lately. There's been some crying. But we'll make it through.