it's a miracle!
a true blue spectacle,
a miracle come true.
we're together, baby
i was going crazy,
'till the miracle came through!
on monday night, we witnessed otto in a state yet unseen: complete agony. he cried so hard that he had tears in his eyes. until well past midnight, i roamed our dark house with him cradled in a sling. i rocked him in the popeye hold in his room. i stood in our bathroom with the shower running and showed him his face in my treasured magnifying mirror [a phaneromaniac's most valued possession] which elicited some smiles and cuddles before the dreaded pain set in again.
sleep-starved, i wondered what was making otto so miserable. i checked his nightgown for scratchy tags or pins -- i recently sewed a second sling [say that three times fast] and was worried about a forgotten one sticking him. and then i remembered... the leftover penne arrabiatta from la gondola that i had for lunch! chockablock with hot peppers and slivers of garlic, it about tore me in two. otto normally does a good job tolerating my diet, piquant and gas-producing, but i think this was just a whole new level of challenging food. plus, because monday was my first harried day back working, i definitely didn't drink enough water to dilute the devils down.
eventually, after a squirt of gas drops and a few more momma-rides around the house, the pain finally subsided and he conked out. oh, but the wakefulness didn't stop there. otto cried with his eyes closed after 3, enjoyed a little amuse bouche, and then fell back asleep... for fifteen to thirty minutes... again and again and again. yesterday, needless to say, casey and i were begging for mercy.
last night, after a nice bath and feeding, casey swaddled the blue blazes out of him and put him down at around 9. we're talking hospital blanket and one of those pre-fab swaddlers with velcro and all. exhausted, we swan dove into our bed, anticipating another wakeful night.
i woke to otto's warm-up whimpers on the monitor and my eyes snapped open to see the clock.
what?! could that be right? i got out of bed, only this time, i was able to make it to my robe without feeling like fossilized cro-magnon man. i had enough sleep to actually move with some fluidity and control. though i was worried i might drown the tot in his own dinner, he took his entire repast with no trouble. i was a little freaked out when, mid-meal, his little peepers popped wide open and started to roll as he grinned with glee. i was like, "oh man, it's not morning yet!" alas, he finished up and retired to his sweet swaddled slumber at 5. and what was playing in my head for the entire hour? the chorus from barry manilow's "it's a miracle". he didn't wake up again until 7.
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