Aidan discovered his thumb last week.  Of course, by “discovered” what I really mean is “fell madly and deeply in love with”.

When I was pregnant, I was sure I’d be able to get him to use a pacifier instead of his thumb.  I rationalized that surely it would be easier to wean him from a pacifier than from his thumb.  After all, you can cash in pacifiers for a new toy, but you can’t exactly remove your child’s thumb, can you?

Then, Aidan was here and I stood at the ready with three different brands of pacifiers, ready to try them all to find Aidan’s favorite.  This proved a fruitless endeavor because Aidan did not have a favorite.  He would tolerate the pacifier in his mouth as long as I held it there, but the minute I left it in there without assistance he’d spit it out and grin, like it was this fun new game we had just come up with.

When he was angry, pacifiers only made him more so.  They did nothing to pacify, in other words.  In fact, for the first four months of his life, he self-soothed without sucking on anything, really.  I have no idea how, perhaps he was laying in his crib counting little tiny baby sheep.  Who knows?

Anyway, I was hanging out with two of my nieces the other day.  The older of them, Caroline, used to suck her thumb when she was a baby, whereas her sister, Kaylie, favored pacifiers.  I told Caroline that Aidan enjoyed sucking his thumb too, and wasn’t much of a pacifier kind of guy.

She beamed, then leaned down and murmured in Aidan’s ear, “That’s ok, we’ll just keep that between the two of us.”

And that’s one of the reasons I’m so glad Aidan’s cousins live so close.  Because every kid needs a cousin to conspire with.

My brain is so freaking weird sometimes.  Aidan started making noises in his sleep last night, which woke me up when I heard them over the monitor.  My brain, deciding that it had no interest in being awake, slipped into a dream wherein I was nursing the baby lying on my side in bed.

I fed the baby, burped him, and put him back to sleep, all in my dream.  Essentially, my brain decided it didn’t want to wake up and instead tricked me into thinking I was taking care of the baby in my dream.

What was weird was when Aidan really did wake up at 5 am, and I got out of bed thinking he was already in my arms.  It was a bit disorienting, to say the least.

Then, when he woke up again at 8 am, I flew out of bed in a panic convinced he never woke up at all last night and was going to starve to death.  That is one heck of a way to wake up!

So essentially what I’m trying to say is that my brain, already kind of a weird sleeper to begin with, is not made more normal by motherhood.  I think it’s really only a matter of time before I’m sleepwalking down the street in my pajamas, asking strangers where my baby giraffe is and assaulting trash cans in some kind of misguided mama bear gesture.

Today…today was kind of a rough day.  Aidan had his two month check up, and that meant shots.  Painful shots.  Shots that made my poor sweet baby cry.  Which made me cry.  I know I know I know, he won’t remember it and the shots are necessary so my baby doesn’t become a carrier monkey for terrible diseases.  Still.  Tears.

I had nightmares about those shots last night.  Every time I imagined Aidan getting those shots, it made me sick to my stomach.  The thought of someone hurting my baby…Ugh, it was enough to inspire dread in me all night.  I felt much the same way before his circumcision appointment.  He’s just such a sweet boy, full of light and happiness, that it seems criminal to cause him pain.

Lucky for me, Aidan handled it like a champion.  He endured two shots.  The first one didn’t really bother him much.  It definitely got his attention, but he didn’t cry.  The second shot, however, made his precious little face crumple and he wailed.  Oh, the sound of it hurt my heart.  I would have slain a rabid tiger bare-handed to take away whatever pain was making my baby cry like that.

After some cuddles and milk, he calmed right down and has spent the rest of the day asleep.  He’s handling it well.  I, however, am still traumatized.

I keep telling myself that I really need to buck up.  I mean, if I fall to pieces over routine shots, what in tarnation am I going to do when he falls down and injures himself when he’s older?  I love this child so much it hurts, and I would do anything to protect him from harm.  The world is a dangerous place.  If shots are this scary, how much more terrifying will it be when he’s climbing trees?  Driving cars?  Dating?!?!

Sigh.  I see many Valium prescriptions in my future…

They're both adorable, but in entirely different ways.

So it turns out that all my worrying and anxiety over that first date with Wes was a waste of time.  We dropped Aidan off with Wes’ parents on Saturday afternoon with nary a tear, then sauntered off for a luxurious (a meal now qualifies as luxurious if I get to eat it while it’s hot and use both hands while I do so) Italian dinner at a local restaurant.  I even had a glass of wine with dinner, and let me tell you: It. Was. Amazing.

I did have a couple moments while we were eating that felt a lot like when you wake up and realize your alarm didn’t go off and you’re late for work, only in relation to the baby.  I would be sitting there, relaxed and munching on stuffed mushrooms, when all of a sudden a panic would set in and I’d feel like I forgot Aidan at home or forgotten to feed him or something.  Just FYI, wine works wonders in helping those little moments subside.

Wes and I had no trouble making sparkling conversation (mostly about programming and music).  When dinner was over we grabbed some ice cream and listened to a live piano player at the mall across the street from the restaurant.  I was entertained by watching the shoes of the passersby (I saw a woman wearing shiny gold flip-flops with, wait for it…SHINY GOLD SPATS.  And very tight spandex…), and Wes was entertained by the pianist, a musician Wes deemed “the best mall pianist I’ve ever heard.”

When we returned to pick up Aidan, we found him sound asleep with a clean diaper and full belly.  No muss, no fuss, no trauma, and a very happy mommy and daddy.