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Feeding Frenzy

By Cynical Woman July 23, 2006 October 27, 2009 Baby, Breast Feeding

Ugh. Feeding Sam in bed all night last night did not work out like I’d planned. Instead of getting any sleep, I ended up becoming a 24-hour milk bar for a very fussy customer.

We started at 8:30 PM in the glider, where I nursed Sam for an hour. This wasn’t an easy, gentle nursing either, the kind where the baby falls asleep in your lap and just makes the occasional suck for comfort’s sake. This was active, vigorous nursing that started to chafe after the first thirty minutes or so. I tried to let Sam keep going, hoping she’d get her fill and doze off. But when the hour mark hiy and she was still hard at it, I decided it was time to put her down for bed. Not an easy thing to do. I had to wedge a couple fingers into the viselike grip of her tiny jaws and pry them apart. That pissed her off of course, and she instantly went from a hungry but drowsy infant to a flailing, fussy, farting fireball.

It was 9:30 PM at this point, still early enough for me to get a good night’s sleep. Since Sam was only fussing but not actually screaming, I put her in the bouncy chair and left the room. I had this delusion that if I went downstairs for a little while and watched TV, when I came back up she’d be sound asleep. Big mistake. She was quiet up until she heard me enter the upstairs hallway. Then she started to howl. Being too tired to strap her into the front carrier and wear her out downstairs, I just gave in and pulled her into bed with me to nurse.

That was at 10:30 PM. A half hour later at 11, Sam was still nursing. The right side of my body was numb from lying still for so long. Sam, of course, was going full blast, just like earlier and once again I had to pry her off. She immediately started crying and grunting and hyperventilating, so I rolled over and let her have the other breast. Another half hour went by. By midnight, Sam was quiet but still sucking pretty strong. I pried her off anyway. My nipples were raw. She flailed for a bit, then finally calmed down and went to sleep. At 12:30 AM, I very carefully picked her up and strapped her into the bouncy chair, then went to sleep myself.

I woke up to a lot of grunting and hyperventilating. It was Sam again, of course. Her eyes were closed, but she was going nuts in the bouncy chair. I checked my clock. It was only 1:30 AM. I’d expected her to sleep until at least 2:30. How could she be hungry again that soon? Her eyes weren’t open though, so I thought maybe she was just fussing in her sleep and it would pass. I laid there for an hour listening to her thrash around in the chair. Finally, I gave up and pulled her back in bed again. My nipples still hurt, so I tried pulling her close to me and patting her on the back to lull her back into sleep. She dozed off after a while and I put her back in the bouncy chair.

Thirty minutes later, she was back in bed with me, this time nursing again. I swear, I thought she was going to suck my toenails out through my nipples. We went 40 minutes on one side and then another 20 on the other. My neck and back ached from lying curled around her. I wanted to lie flat on my back, but couldn’t do that and nurse Sam too. After another hour, I pulled her off and put her back in the bouncy chair. She raised a fuss. Then her hiccoughs kicked in. Sam has the loudest, most violent hiccoughs I have ever heard. They sound like large balloons exploding right in your ear. I tried to wait it out, but the noise was too much. I grabbed my pillow and went into the guest room. Even in there, I could still hear her hyperventilating and hiccupping. If an adult hyperventilated like that, they’d have passed out long before. Why couldn’t Sam do the same, I wondered as I pressed my pillow over my head.

At some point, I dozed off. Then I woke up again to the sound of crying. I stumbled into the bedroom and found Michael changing Sam’s diaper. It was 4 AM. He held her and rocked her for a while as I tried to get a little more sleep. Sam wouldn’t calm down. By 4:30, she ended up back in bed with me. Only this time, she was so agitated she wouldn’t latch on. She kept taking the nipple and spitting it back out. Then she’d wail each time I put it back into my bra. It took her a good fifteen minutes to finally hook up to the milk bar.

My usual wake up time of 5:30 AM came and went. Sam kept nursing. At around 6, she finally detached herself and went to sleep. I thought briefly about trying to put her back in the bouncy chair but by this time my back, neck and shoulders had seized up so that I resembled a giant question mark. Being unable to unlock my stiffened spine, I laid there and suffered before finally drifting off myself.

We woke up just before 8 AM, when Cassie came in looking for us. What a sweet child. What a loveable darling. No matter how bad her temper tantrums are at times, she does sleep through the night. How can you not love a child who does that?
Meanwhile, the human piranha dozed peacefully with her face tucked into my armpit. Michael took Cassie downstairs. I spent half an hour straightening my spine until I could finally get out of bed. Sam snoozed peacefully as I transferred her back to the bouncy chair. I took a shower and brushed my teeth. She never so much as sighed.

So Sam binged on milk all night long. Now I am dead tired, which means I will be facing my own feeding frenzy today, stuffing my face to sate my fatigue-induced craving for sugar and carbs. The only good thing about this is that I now weigh three pounds less today than I did yesterday. How much do you want to bet that Sam weighs three pounds more?

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Problems With Preschool

By Cynical Woman July 21, 2006 October 27, 2009 School

Okay, we haven’t even started preschool yet, and already we’re having problems.

I told Cassie we would be visiting one of the local preschools today to see what it was like. I have to send her to preschool. I just can’t keep her occupied and active enough on my own. Cassie is starting to feel the loss of my full attention now that Sam is here, and it’s making her cranky and jealous. I feel bad about that, but infants take a lot of time to care for. As best as I can, I try to set aside some time to play with Cassie each day, but until Sam’s tummy trouble and late night screaming stop, it’s going to be hard. A lot of times, I’ve been lying on the floor playing dollies with Cassie, only to wake up half an hour later and find Cassie waiting patiently for me to resume our games.

So I’m going to send Cassie off to preschool where she can be with other kids and get in plenty of playtime and activity. She’s very excited about this. In fact, she’s a little over excited. Even though I told her this would just be a short visit and that preschool won’t actually begin until September, she assumes that this is the real deal and she will be starting full blown preschool today. In preparation for the big event, she dressed herself this morning in her favorite pink outfit (“Don’t I look lovely, Mommy?”) and packed two bags of essentials to take with her. Her essentials include a handful of Little People, her Magna Doodle, and some costume jewelry. Michael and I have tried to explain that she won’t be allowed to take all that stuff into the preschool with her. “But I need it!” she claims.

We’ve already had one temper tantrum over this preschool visit this morning. She wants to go right now. However, we’re not leaving for our visit for at least another hour. Needless to say, that was not what she wanted to here. I can already foresee a lot of kicking and screaming when our visit is over and she wants to stay but I need to take her home.

I should have known this was coming. Back in March when I first talked to Michael about signing up Cassie for preschool, I asked him if he thought she was ready for it. Cassie immediately piped up. “I go to preschool. I get on bus and say ‘Bye bye, Mommy.’” Boy if that wasn’t a kick in the head.

Hopefully, I’ll be able to get through this visit without any fuss from Cassie. Hopefully, after half an hour of touring the facilities, she won’t be so in love with the place that she’ll demand to stay. Hopefully, she won’t have a complete meltdown when I tell her it’s time to leave. And hopefully, she won’t spend the next six weeks demanding to go back right now.

Of course, you and I both know what ‘hopefully’ is going to get us.

Pray for me.

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Interpreting Your Baby’s Cries (yeah, right.)

By Cynical Woman July 20, 2006 October 27, 2009 Baby

In just about every magazine and book on parenting, you’ll find articles on how to interpret your baby’s cries. One cry will tell you she’s hungry, one will tell you her diaper is wet, one will tell you she’s bored, etc., etc., etc. This is all part of baby’s first attempts to communicate with you, the parents. Well according to experts I know (my mom and dad), children never willingly communicate anything useful to their parents. In fact, all attempts at communication are usually stringently avoided unless your kids want you to buy them something.

However, I do believe that Sam is trying to tell me something when she starts wailing, and she has a wide range of expressive cries. As a public service to other frazzled, burnt-out moms, I have decided to share with you what those different types of cries mean.

Soft grunting noise – I am not happy. Do something about it.

Hard grunting noise, accompanied by farting or spitting up – I am not happy. Do something about it or I will make a big mess and you will have to clean it up.

Persistent crying, accompanied by arms flailing and legs kicking – I’m ticked off. Pick me up so I may smash my pointed little head into your face.

High pitched screaming, face turns bright red and eyes are screwed shut – I’m getting pissed off here. Make me happy or else.

Mouth is opened wide in a scream, but no noise comes out; baby’s face is livid; her entire body is shaking in rage – I’m really, really pissed off. Make me happy now or you’re going to regret it.

Baby emits the same ear-piercing, glass shattering scream over and over and over again; her face is twisted into an expression that looks like something out of a horror movie; her arms and legs are locked straight out and her entire body is rigid – I hate you. You are incompetent. Who the hell told you that you could be a parent? I want my money back. This sucks. I’ll spend the rest of my life in therapy because you can not figure out how to make me happy. By the way, I’ve got a big messy poop in my diaper again and as soon as you pick me up I will spit up all over your best shirt, which is dry clean only of course.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what your infant is really trying to tell you. Good luck.

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Another Long Night With A Screaming Baby

By Cynical Woman July 19, 2006 October 27, 2009 Baby

I stand corrected. Michael is not going to Disney World for his conference in August. He’s going to the Rocky Mountains in Colorado instead. Not quite as fun a destination, but he still gets to go sans kids and spouse for a week. Quite frankly, I’d kill just to go to the bookstore for a few hours sans kids and spouse. As a matter of fact, after a week dealing with the kids on my own, I just might kill as soon as Michael walks in the door.

We had another long night last night. Sam continues to have problems with lactose overload. I overproduce breast milk and as a result Sam gets too much foremilk and not enough hind milk. The foremilk is loaded with lactose, and when she gets too much in her digestive tract, she has a lot of tummy troubles – gas, fussiness, and messy green poop. It’s painful for her and she screams all night whenever this happens. I’m still experimenting, trying to figure out how to get her more hind milk, which has all the fats in it that will help fill her up more quickly and keep her from overeating. I’ve been pumping off about an ounce of milk before nursing her. I think the problem yesterday was that I gave her a bottle of pumped milk while we were out. There was probably too much foremilk in it and not enough hind. This is going to cause problems if that’s the case, because now I’ll have to pump extra milk whenever I want to have a bottle for her, getting rid of the first ounce or two. I can do it, but it may make me produce even more milk, which causes my breast to swell up like big fat water balloons and only furthers the problem of overproduction.

Sigh. I can’t win.

Anyway, Sam wouldn’t settle down after her 9 PM feeding so it looked like we were in for a long night of back patting and walking around the house. I tried giving her a bath, but that didn’t help much. I let her nurse, hoping she’d soothe herself to sleep while she ate, but that didn’t work either, and probably only made things worse. I tried pulling her into bed with me and patting her back until she calmed down, but she wasn’t having any of that last night. Finally, around 11 PM, I put her in the front pack and headed downstairs to walk around the house with her for a while.

The worst thing about nights like these is that they make me feel totally useless. There is almost nothing I can do to soothe Sam, and what I can do wears me out pretty quickly. I also know that I’ll be up all night, making me even more useless the next day. Not a fun situation to be in, especially on Wednesday, which is Cassie’s play date day. While I was downstairs with Sam, I decided to set up the coffee maker to make my morning a little more bearable. As I was washing out the filter, Sam started to calm down a bit. That’s when I suddenly had an idea. What if, instead of waiting until tomorrow morning to do my chores, I did them then and there while Sam was strapped to me? I couldn’t do everything, but I could do most of my morning routine, and that way I wouldn’t have to worry about cleaning the house the next morning while I was dead on my feet.

I decided to try it. After setting up the coffee pot, I went through my list of chores and did most everything I would normally do at 6 AM. I folded laundry, washed the cat food bowls, swept the floors, straightened up and put toys away, etc., etc. By midnight, the downstairs was clean. Even better, Sam was sound asleep, her little face buried between my overproducing breasts.

I was able to get Sam upstairs and into bed without waking her. She slept for almost four hours before waking to nurse. When she woke, she didn’t seem as fussy. I let myself sleep late this morning, but because I got my chores done, I’m still on track to get out the door in time for Cassie’s play date, AND I’m not dead on my feet. I’ll have to remember this for next time. It’s going to make my life a lot easier today.

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The Devil Wears Pink – An Analysis Of Little Girl’s Fashions

By Cynical Woman July 17, 2006 October 27, 2009 Kids

We got a package in the mail from my mom on Saturday. It was addressed to Cassie and Sam. Inside were a few small toys and a pink dress for each girl.

Why am I not surprised?

Cass is running around with her pink dress, telling me “It’s beautiful!” She can’t wait to wear it. At only six weeks of age, Sam doesn’t have any opinions yet on her wardrobe, but I can foresee the day when she prances about with her clothing, telling me how much she adores her new pink outfit from Grandmama.

If you look in either child’s closet, you will see an endless, monochromatic row of little pink dresses. They come in all shades of pink, from delicate pastel to magenta, but they are all pink. I think Cassie used to have a few dresses that are some other color, like blue or white or purple, but I could never get her to wear those. She’s always got to wear the pink ones. In fact, she wears pink dresses so much I had to institute a rule – no dresses, pink or otherwise, on play dates. It’s just one of those things. I think playing, especially the rough and tumble preschooler kind, is best done in pants and a t-shirt. And besides, I need a break from pink every now and then, otherwise I’ll go blind.

My own wardrobe includes only one pink shirt. That’s it. Everything else is brown, blue, black or red. I have an impressive collection of baggy black t-shirts and a few prized cherry red microfit tops. As for dresses, I think I have two left in the closet somewhere. Haven’t worn either one in ages though.

Cassie is in her room right now, picking out clothing. If I ask her which outfit she intends to wear, I’m pretty sure of the answer I’ll get.

It’ll be the pink one.

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Time Warp – A Preschooler’s Understanding Of The Hours Of The Day

By Cynical Woman July 12, 2006 October 27, 2009 Kids

We just got back from my six-week post-partum check up. Everything looks good, so I can now go back to my regular routine of exercise and activities. Most importantly, I can finally take a bath instead of a stupid shower.

We’ve got a play date scheduled for today. It’s our regular Wednesday play date, including story time at the local library and then lunch at Chic-Fil-A. Cassie is eager to go, and has only asked me a dozen times this morning if we can leave already.

Days like today have taught me that 3-year-olds have a rather distorted sense of time. In fact, I don’t think they’re even in the same universe as the rest of us, temporally speaking. For example, on Monday I had promised Cassie that we’d set up her little wading pool in the backyard after lunch. I made that promise when she got up at 6 AM. Lunch is at noon and usually ends around 1PM. So Cassie spent seven hours asking me when I would set up the pool. It went something like this:

Cassie: “Mommy, is my pool ready yet.”

Me (as I sit down to eat breakfast): “Not yet, dear. We’ll set it up after lunch.”

Cassie: I already had lunch. Daddy gave it to me.

Me: No sweetheart. Daddy gave you breakfast. Lunch won’t be until noon.

Cassie: Mommy, may I have Cheetos?

Me: No, sweetie. Cheetos are for lunch.

Cassie: But it is lunch time.

Me: No, it’s breakfast time right now.

Cassie: But I already had breakfast.

Me (getting slightly irritated): YOU had breakfast, but Mommy did not. She’s eating breakfast now.

Cassie: I’m hungry. May I have some Cheetos?

Me: No, Cheetos are a lunch food. It’s breakfast time right now. You may have some cereal or a piece of fruit if you’re hungry.

Cassie: I want cereal.

(I get up and poor her a bowl of Cheerios. She sits at the table and inhales it.)

Cassie: Now will you set up my pool?

Me (still trying to finish my breakfast): No, young lady. I already told you, we’re not setting up the pool until after lunch.

Cassie: But I just had lunch.

Me: No, you just had breakfast. I gave you cereal, remember?

Cassie: DADDY gave me breakfast. You gave me lunch.

Me (trying hard not to lose my temper): No sweetie, you had two breakfasts. Daddy gave you one breakfast, which you didn’t bother to eat, and then Mommy fed you again because you said you were hungry.

Cassie: I’m still hungry. May I have Cheetos now?

Me (starting to pull out my hair): No. Cheetos are for lunch.

Cassie: But I just HAD lunch.

Me: NO YOU DID NOT! NOW QUIT PESTERING ME AND LET ME EAT!

(Cassie sits very quietly and pouts for a few minutes. Then she perks up.)

Cassie: Mommy, if you eat Cheetos, then it will be lunchtime.

Me: AAAAAARRGGGH!

My advice, don’t ever get into these discussions with kids unless you are prepared for some serious mind bending arguments. Otherwise, you’ll go crazy.

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Potty Mouth And Baby Talk

By Cynical Woman July 8, 2006 October 27, 2009 Baby, Parenting

One of these days, we’ll all be old enough to go to the toilet.

It’s a sad fact of life that once you have kids, certain adult things go right out the window. Going to the toilet is one of them. In our house, everyone goes “potty,” including my husband and me. I’m not even sure I can say the word “toilet” anymore because I’ve been saying “potty” for so long.

We do not urinate or have a bowel movement anymore either. We have poo-poo or pee-pee. But that’s okay because nobody in the house has a butt. Somehow we’ve all developed tushies instead.

I don’t know where the baby talk came from. I had no intentions of using it with my kids, but somehow it crept in while I wasn’t looking. It all sounds great when mixed in with my usual swearing, I tell you.

What’s really funny is the fact that Cassie is quite capable of speaking and understanding long words. Lately, she’s been asking me if we can have a “conversation” together. That’s her choice of words, not mine. She sounds so adult when she asks this, but once I say yes, things take a turn for the weird. It goes something like this.

“Mommy, can we have a conversation?”

“Of course, sweetie. What shall we talk about?”

“Hmm… Let’s talk about eating people.”

“Uh, okaaaaay, what about eating people?”

“Monsters eat people. People are crunchy.”

“Who told you this?”

“Aunt Khaki.”

“Remind me to thank Aunt Khaki the next time we talk to her.”

“Okay.”

Of course, the conversation with Aunt Khaki isn’t that much more rational. And I have conversations like this all day long. It’s no wonder I think I’m going crazy.

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My Amazing Three-Year-Old – The Secret To Surviving Life With Child Number Two

By Cynical Woman July 7, 2006 October 27, 2009 Baby, Kids

I decided to forgo yesterday’s blog entry in order to finish off a short story for ERWA’s Blasphemy theme week. The writers’ group dedicates the first week of each month to a particular theme and I decided to see if I could actually start and complete a story in the five weeks between Sam’s birth and the upcoming theme deadline. The astonishing thing is that I did manage to complete the story and get it posted to the group. I don’t think it’s my best work, but it got done, which is all the proof that I need to know I’m back in the saddle again.

Yes, I think I’m back to a normal life, or as close as I’ll ever get, five weeks after Sam was born. It took a lot of work and a lot of help, but hey, it’s currently 9 AM and I’m dressed, Cassie’s dressed, everybody’s had breakfast, the laundry is folded and all my morning chores are done. Just as soon as Sam finishes nursing, I’m headed out the door for a 30 minute appointment with the jog stroller and my neighborhood walking path. Life does not get any better than this, boys and girls.

So how did this happen? Well, I owe a lot of this success to my oldest daughter Cassie, who’s only 3 ½ years old. Cassie has not only made life easy for me the past five weeks, she’s actually gone out of her way to help me. Now I’m not saying we haven’t had some temper tantrums and whining and all out fits, but for a three-year-old, Cass has been pretty amazing. For starters, she knows how to entertain herself. This is a huge help when I’ve got my hands full with a hungry baby. Right now, as I nurse Sam and type out this entry, Cassie is sitting on my bed reading some of her books. She makes the occasional comment to me, and sometimes asks for things I can’t possibly do at the moment (like run downstairs and get her milk, tie her shoes, etc.), but for the most part she’s keeping herself busy and content.

Cass has also been pretty good about helping out. If I’m stuck in the glider or on the couch, I can ask Cassie to get me something and she’ll usually find it with no problems. Sometimes she’ll give me that vacant stare and shoulder shrug that says, “Cassie’s not in right now, but if you’ll leave a message…” but for the most part, I can ask for something and usually get it.

What other amazing things does my big girl do? She dresses herself most mornings, or cons her daddy into doing it for her. I will admit, she does make some unusual outfit choices. Personally, I wouldn’t wear a Disney Snow White costume with purple sneakers, orange socks and hot pink swimming goggles, but if Cass thinks she can pull it off, who am I to stifle her sense of style?

Cassie also makes her own bed. Sometimes she’ll pick up her toys. She can shoo the cats out of the room if they’re being pests and she’s gotten very good at telling me when it’s time to breastfeed Sam or change her diaper. She also likes to announce when Sam farts, but I’m not really sure that qualifies as helping.

Perhaps the most astounding thing about Cassie is her ability to go potty all by herself. That makes all the difference in the world, let me tell you. I only have to worry about changing diapers on one child, and I don’t have to constantly prod Cassie to use the toilet. She knows when she has to go and will do it by herself. When we’re out, she’ll even ask to be taken to the potty if she needs. We have had a few accidents, but not enough to be a problem.

My girl is so smart! So well behaved! So astonishing to me! It’s hard to believe that she was once a chunky little baby like her sister, who spent most of the day lying across my lap as she sucked the life out of me through my nipples. How did this happen? When did this kid get so big and so capable?

I don’t know, but my advice to any mom thinking about having child number two is to make sure child number one can stand on her own two feet first. You’ll be ever so grateful when you’ve got a little helper ready to lend you a hand with your new screaming bundle of joy.

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Mystery Of The Green Poop Solved?

By Cynical Woman July 5, 2006 October 27, 2009 Baby

I may have figured out what Sam’s problem is. Yesterday morning I did some poking around on the web, trying to figure out what else I could do to soothe a colicky baby. One thing about Sam’s late night crying that’s been bothering me is the green, mucous-like poop she has. She only gets it at night, never during the day. On Friday, when we went to the pediatrician’s office, I asked about this but the nurse practitioner who saw us said there was no connection between the nighttime green poop and the all night crying jags.

Well she was wrong!

At least I think she’s wrong. I finally searched Web MD for “colic” and “green bowel movement” and I came up with one hit, an article that lists everything you didn’t want to know about breastfeeding and ailments in infants. Turns out there’s something called infant lactose overload, which is something that happens when a baby gets too much foremilk and not enough hindmilk.

Some folks may be scratching their heads at this point and asking, “What the hell is foremilk and hindmilk?” Well, breast milk comes in two flavors, and I’m not talking chocolate and vanilla here. When a baby first starts to nurse, the milk that comes out is full of protein and a sugar called lactose. That’s the foremilk. After a while, the milk changes so that it’s got more fat in it and less protein and sugar. That’s the hindmilk. Apparently, if the baby gets too much foremilk, the bacteria in her intestines will latch onto it and cause a lot of gas (which is painful for the baby) and will also cause watery green poop.

How does the baby get too much foremilk? Well, in my case, it’s probably a problem of overproduction. Yes, my D-cups runneth over. Sam gets filled up with the excess milk I make, getting more foremilk before she can get to the hindmilk. Since she nurses more frequently during the day, all that sugar in the foremilk spends all day long fermenting in her little bowels, thus the nightly deposits of green poop in her diapers. The solution to the problem is for me to pump off some excess milk before nursing her. This means that I am suddenly very happy that all my friends donated their breast pumps to me when they were done breastfeeding. I have four Medela pumps and one Advent and it looks like I’m going to be rotating through all of them to bleed off at least two ounces of milk before each feeding to ensure Sam gets to that hindmilk.

The good news is we figured this out yesterday morning so I was able to pump before each daytime feeding. Sam was still wide awake and fussy last night at 10 PM, but she wasn’t squalling like normal. I was able to put her in her basinet and after half an hour or so, she fussed herself to sleep. It was amazing. She didn’t wake up until 2 AM.

She did have some trouble at 4 AM, and I was still dog tired this morning, but holy crap, I actually got almost four straight hours of sleep last night. Do you know how amazing that is?

You do if you’re a mom.

By the way, if anybody is interested in reading more info on infant lactose overload, check Web MD at this link. There’s also a good article on it at Babycareadvice.com and a blog article at Mandajuice who’s motto is ‘Because you can never know too much about boobs.’ You’re right about that, Manda.

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Green Poop And Other Midnight Mysteries

By Cynical Woman July 4, 2006 October 27, 2009 Baby

Sam’s colic has me pretty confused. I’ve been reviewing everything I remember about Cassie’s colic and things aren’t the same the second time around.

For starters, Cassie’s colic operated like clockwork, starting every afternoon at 4 PM and lasting until 9 PM. She was still impossible to get to sleep at night, but the unholy, ear-splitting screams only lasted for those five hours in the evening.

With Sam, we don’t have the same kind of screaming. She gets fussy instead and starts to hyperventilate, which then leads to hiccups which makes her even fussier. She stays fussy, but so long as someone is holding her and actively trying to calm her, things don’t usually go much farther. Also, her fussy period may start anywhere between 3:30 PM and 9:30 PM. Not exactly the clockwork pattern I’ve come to associate with colic.

Another thing that’s been bothering me is the strange green poop that Sam seems to have only at night. We usually get the first one between 9 and 10 PM, and then maybe get a second one later at night. It’s green, watery, and sometimes even looks a bit like mucous. The nurse practitioner we saw last Friday says it’s not related to Sam’s crying all night, but I have to wonder. Why would she only have green poop at night, the same time as when she cries all night? She’s also having gas all night, and the nurse practitioner did say that was related, so why one and not the other?

It’s a mystery I’ll have to ponder on for a while.