Oy!

Jack, I'm afraid, is a colicky baby. Last night (and for the last three nights) I spent at least three hours tightly holding and rocking him, both of us sobbing uncontrollably, neither of us knowing what we needed for anything to be OK. I can't explain to you how heartbreaking it is for me to see him in such agony, without anything to do. We went through all of the baby books, tried different holds, hot water bottles, pacifyers, outside, inside, swings, etc.. When he finally calmed down- out of sheer exhaustion -we both slept for almost six hours straight. This morning he was back to his happy self, cooing and grinning, a perfectly sweet baby.

In other news, Jack had his first projectile spit-up on Saturday. And what a clever boy he is! He managed to get it all over my shirt, the back of my pants (I was seated), and between my toes. He didn't, in contrast, get any on him or his burp rag. Nice.

Also, pacifyers keep disappearing. We keep buying them and losing them. Either Casey Cat is playing a dirty trick, though I suspect he would rather Jack keep the pacifyers if it would stop the noise, or the same gremlin who comes in the night - the one that switches our sweet, serene baby for the unhappy, screaming one - is also a pacifyer thief.

I need to set traps.