The Littlest Banshee

We are very lucky in that Norah is a mellow baby. However, having a mellow baby comes with a price--when she has a total meltdown we are at a complete loss for what to do**.

This was evidenced by what happened last night. She woke up at about 12:30 am, fussed, then yelled, then screamed bloody murder for about four hours. I have a sneaking suspicion that what she wanted was food (she had bad gas the past couple of nights so I had been nursing her back to sleep when she woke up around 11:00 pm--it soothes her stomach). I figured she was waking up in anticipation of food, but I wasn't about to give in to her demands (this is not me being a jerk--our pediatrician has advised us not to feed her between the time she goes down at 7:00 pm and 5:00 am or she'll never sleep through the night). So, I employed a little tough love and didn't nurse her. She screamed like a banshee and no amount of rocking, singing, walking, or cuddling would appease her. I tried to convince her that we weren't trying to waterboard her or anything, but I don't think she bought it.

As a result of our long night, morning playtime quickly turned into this:


Poor little hellion.

**Likewise, Norah doesn't have many blowouts. I think it's happened maybe twice that she's gotten actual poop on her clothes. Saturday, however, we went to get her a Valentine's present at Babies R Us (which will be revealed in a later post), and she took the world's most gigantic crap while we were out and about. We were at a total loss as to what to do and things quickly spiraled into panic mode. Thank goodness BRU has a family changing room and no one else was in it because it took both of us, 3 diapers, an outfit change, and 1,200 wipes to deal with the madness.