As much as I hate moving, I’m pretty sure my baby hates it more.
My husband and I believe in attachment parenting, so she’s spent most of her life in some sort of sling or wrap. She likes it, we like it, and everyone is happy.
However, we’re moving in less than a week, and when there’s an apartment to pack up, the rules change. When I’m moving heavy boxes and lifting things off of high shelves, I don’t feel safe having her in tow. For that reason, she’s been spending a lot of time entertaining herself.
She’s very good at this. She plays with her toys, rolls around on the ground, practices crawling, and talks up a storm. This can last anywhere from five to twenty minutes. Once she decides she’s done being independent, however, things go from good to ugly very quickly.
I haven’t figured out a way to explain to her that just because she’s tired of playing alone doesn’t mean I’m finished packing for the day. Or cleaning for the day. Or trying to figure out how I’m going to make supper using only paper plates and plastic utensils.
Needless to say, there have been more tears shed than normal in our house this week. “Tears from your baby or tears from you?” you wonder. I’m not answering that.
To make up for the lost skin-to-skin time, we brought our baby back in bed with us. I’m not sure if this decision is wise or not. Our baby had been sleeping in her crib all night, waking up once or twice to eat. Now that she’s sleeping right next door to her favorite restaurant, she’s worked up quite an appetite. I lost count of how many times she ate last night, and each time she woke up, she cried like her poor belly was empty (even though that was nearly impossible).
I’ve lulled myself into a false sense of security, thinking, “As soon as we’re done packing, the movers will come and take our stuff, and life will go back to normal.” I’m purposely pretending that my boxes will magically unpack themselves on the other end.
Our baby may not be enjoying the packing stage, but I’m pretty sure she’ll enjoy having her own backyard!