I think Andy might be on to me. Sometimes he looks at me with an expression that can only be described as distrustful. "You have NO idea what you're doing, do you?" his eyes seem to say below his crinkled, thoughtful forehead. "You're just winging it, aren't you? Well, it's not working. You're screwing me up!"

He's right- I don't know how to be a mother. I think I'm meeting his basic needs, but even of this, I'm mediocre at best. I half-ass changing his diapers, because it's gross and because he fusses too much for me to linger at it and do a proper wipe job. I have tried singing to him to calm him down, but I realize that I don't really know any lullabies, and I feel like I'm cheating the kid by singing "adult" songs. I do, however, know "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and "The Alphabet Song," two seemingly different songs which I actually just discovered this morning HAVE THE SAME EXACT TUNE. So, in the interest of being honest, I only know one kid song, but two sets of lyrics. And feeding this kid. I'm trying to combine boobie and bottle, and I'm not sure if it's working out. When I try to give him a bottle of that powdered crap mixed with the special, 99 cent "baby water," Andy looks at me with such betrayal and hurt that I'm positive he's read the same articles I have- that he knows I'm short-changing him and withholding the good boobie milk out of my own selfish desires to keep my nipples from cracking and bleeding and because taking my shirt on and off every two hours is something that I just don't have the time for. He knows. And he's holding it against me, drinking the bottle begrudgingly only because a semi-realistic fear of starvation.

Andy does fuss a lot. He was a calm baby for the first week-ish, and now he is, at times, downright inconsolable. He throws his little head back and wails, his shiny, toothless pink gums on full display. And he's a squirmer- he jerks his body to the left, to the right, up and out so fiercely that I am sometimes afraid he'll pop right out of my arms. He obviously wants to go somewhere, by himself, but I'm not sure he's really thought things through. Sure he's pretty strong for a two week old- but strong enough to find his way to the road and hitchhike his way to a house with more experienced parental figures? Doubtful.

I will say that Chris has been doing way more than his fair share of taking care of Andy. Not that I thought he'd be a deadbeat, but Chris stays up with Andy during the night a LOT more than I do. I really only wake up for the kid when my aching bosom jars me out of sleep to tell me that I either need to feed something or I'm going to possibly explode. Otherwise, Chris sleeps (and I use that word loosely, sleeps) with Andy in Andy's room on the spare twin bed we have. We're supposed to be doing that in shifts, but it has ended up being that Chris kind of just sleeps with Andy until about the five am feeding, and then I take over and let Chris finish out the morning asleep in our bed while I nurse and then catnap for another hour or two, doing my best to ignore Andy's fitful fussing until about seven am, when it becomes apparent that I either need to tend to him or the neighbors are going to maybe hear him and call DCFS on me.

I exaggerate, I do. But not by a whole lot.

This all being said, for a two week old baby, even with all the fussing and the shifty looking gazes this kid flashes at us, he is a pretty good little boy. And he gets cuter by the day. I know he's technically too young to smile, but sometimes when he sleeps, he busts out a huge grin and giggles a little. Sure, I know it's likely gas, but I like to think he's dreaming about something really nice. Like warm milk or a good cuddle or his mommy taking the time to learn a couple lullabies.

I can't say it enough, though- this new kind of love, the love for baby- it's something that I've never felt before. It's whole and consuming and amazing and scary and fully, completely enveloping. And the best freaking thing ever. So even if I'm afraid I'm screwing up my kid or not being all that great at this whole mothering thing- at the very least, I know I'm doing at least one thing right because I feel this brand new version of love that didn't exist before July 12. So that's got to say something, right?

Contented. Sigh.