Rock n' Roll Lifestyle

Constipated Infants. It's a cool band name. In our household it's also a popular Internet search term. I saw Sarah had already clicked some of the same headlines that caught my eye. Purple were the links for "Constipation in Baby" and "Infant Constipation: Symptoms, Causes, Treatment." None of them had much for little guys like Otto, who for the last 24 hours has been groaning instead of sleeping. His strained baby grunts come from a belly tightened with gridlock. I don't how this could happen. He DRINKS his food. So I imagine a marble or wad of dog hair about to shoot out like a little cannonball.

I've been manipulating Otto's tiny legs in a rowing motion. This, according to an Internet video, will help get the gas out. A woman demonstrated it using a stuffed animal. I was worried it hadn't been tried on humans, but then Otto started gassing with every pull of his leg. He was like little, fecal billows and I could see why this shouldn't be done on real people if it can be avoided.

It's been a rough weekend. We stayed up late Friday night watching season 4 of Weeds (nice move with the sonogram, Nancy, but you're still a dumbass for ratting Guillermo) counting on the kids' naps to catch up on sleep. Well no one napped. With a bazillion dollar wedding to emcee Saturday night, I needed rest badly, but Q has started teething again and he didn't take the 2-hour nap that we hope to count on until he's 18. Q has been manic. It's like living with Axl Rose. There's some pretty good performances, but at any moment there could be a meltdown and the show's over.

Well, I got back from the party at 1 this morning. Quin was up at 5:30, and Sarah was already busy with the Constipated Infant (the whole house is a rock n' roll analogy, except without the sex and booze, just the erratic behavior and Motrin,) so it's been a wakey wakey time ever since. This afternoon I found myself in the sleeping aid section at Target looking for Mylicon. It's a gas relief medication, not an insomnia cure, but I had this image of one big baby blast and then calm throughout the house. I'm not sure the Mylicon helped, but Otto eventually did rattle the neighborhood.  He let one rip for all of us...he farted for all of mankind.  Sarah and I sat up and congratulated Otto and then each other. It was like we'd just landed something on the moon.

As for Q, he's out. Motrin is his Pharma Phriend. We're no longer afraid of drugs. Back in the early Q days Sarah and I would be disheveled and weary in the dim light of Quin's nursery. He'd be screaming and we'd be going cross eyed trying to measure exactly .4 of a milliliter. Nowadays I'd administer it with a foot pump.

Sarah just asked the time. It's nearly midnight...again. A couple of years ago I would have panicked that we may never ever get any sleep as long as we live. Now I know I was wrong. We WILL never ever get any sleep. It's just accepting it that matters.

Otto is now asleep.  Quin is awake. Welcome to the Jungle.