Mama lesson of the day:
It’s almost always wind.
Timothy and I have just spent a very long three hours walking around the house and up and down stairs with a screaming boy (for some reason, stairs are his preferred cure for stomach ache). And the thoughts in my head could be itemised as follows:
1) Poor Henry.
2) Poor neighbours.
3) This is probably really good butt exercise.
4) It’s almost always wind, isn’t it?
When he was tiny, we didn’t wind him all that much: he seemed too breakable for slapping on the back, and he never looked like he needed to burp. Not that we really knew what ‘needing to burp’ looked like; I can’t burp at all (an odd physiological defect making fizzy drinks a hazard) and Timothy seems to be able to do it on command and in several registers. The past few weeks have seen a terrifying shift in Henry’s interior workings, and after a confused couple of days, I traced the whinging back to its source: wind, and lots of it. Since then, I’ve done more jiggling than a belly dancer.
Photo via Instagram. Big thumbs up.
When he can’t get to sleep at night, it’s wind. When I think he’s still hungry, it’s (often) wind. All those times I thought he hated being winded, and stopped too soon: it was wind! It’s almost always wind, is what I’m saying.
Today, with eardrums perilously close to popping point, we got out the big guns:
Mum used to keep this in the cupboard under the sink when my brothers were little, and many a time I went in there for a cheeky swig and a Farley’s rusk. Pure deliciousness. These days – boo! – it is alcohol- and sugar-free, but still tastes the same as I remember.* It works like a charm, too. Or did, for a while.
It is horrid – horrid – listening to him in pain. Still, the other valuable parenting lesson I keep in my arsenal is the fact that nothing lasts for long in babyland. This too shall pass. Though I might keep buying the gripe water just for use as a beverage.
*In the interests of scientific enquiry, I also had a go with Calpol when we got it out after his jabs the other week. The smell is still intoxicatingly strawberrified, but they’ve taken all the sugar out, so the taste is a big disappointment. He still licked the spoon clean. That’s my boy.