Fuss

The baby is getting fussier.  This is something I always feared with my last baby, but despite my scrutinizing his every move for signs of colic or psychopathy or demonic possession, my last baby was a vigorously mellow dreamboat.

This one is not.  She's not a hell baby, but she's not relaxed either.  And I was tense enough with the dreamboat.

I am not good at fussy-baby parenting.   Or really baby parenting in general.  My nervous system is pretty finely strung (understatement), so if I'm up from 3-4 AM, say, trying to soothe a fussy baby, I'm unable to go back to sleep afterwards because I'm too flooded with adrenaline. And in daytime,  if I've just put a fussy baby down, I stay clenched and stiff, trying to inch past the moment like the baby is unexploded ordinance.

I know other people are better at fussy baby parenting, because they choose to have MORE THAN TWO BABIES.  GOOD GOD.  And because they claim to enjoy infants.  And because my husband is a whole lot better at it than I am.  Fussy baby down?  Go to sleep seconds later.  Fussy baby in arms?  Doze.  Fussy baby in general?  Stay cool.

I, on the other hand, am a better toddler parent.  Toddlers are much more predictable, comprehensible, and comprehending, and I have lots of practice being patient but firm with toddlers.  I understand them (because I'm secretly a toddler at heart?  I don't wanna think too much about that one).  And I know that at some level they cannot help themselves, so I don't take their garbage personally.

I wish I could change the way I feel about babies, but it feels sub-cortical.  As it is, I'm just trying to get through it.