Month 3: Milestones

Miles has achieved a lot of firsts in his third month of life. He went on his first trip (a 7-hour car ride to visit both sets of grandparents), rolled over for the first time, and started sleeping in his crib in his own room.

Yep, once he surpassed the bassinet’s 15-lb. weight limit, I couldn’t put it off any longer. This nightly separation is definitely harder on me than on him. It took me a few nights to stop tip-toeing into his room every 20 minutes to make sure he was still breathing and hadn’t wedged a body part between the crib rails.

This month also marks the first time I’ve left Miles with a babysitter who’s not related to him by blood. It was easy enough to leave him with my dad while my mom and I went off to a yoga class. (Easy on me, that is. When I called to check in, my dad sounded frazzled. By the time we pulled up to the house, he was waiting outside with the baby in his arms, frantically scanning the street for our car!)

But leaving my precious child with a stranger is another matter entirely. OK, so she’s not a complete stranger; she’s my friend’s mom. Let’s call her “Scarlett.” Scarlett positively oozes gentleness, patience and Southern charm. I’m in desperate need of a few baby-free hours a week. And I plan to be right upstairs most of the time she’s here, catching up on e-mail, bills, etc. Yet I’m still a little uneasy.

For the first hour after Scarlett arrived yesterday, I ran around doing laundry, putting away clothes, and wrestling with the confounded crib sheet. They make those things so snug you almost need pliers to get them around the mattress. Which is why my poor son has been sleeping on a soiled crib sheet for two nights. You try changing that thing with a sleepy baby in your arms at 4:30 a.m.!

Then I figured I should probably leave the house to make the most of my precious few hours of “me time.” Destination: Panera. Goal: An asiago bagel with sundried tomato cream cheese. Since I’m used to scarfing down my food while standing in the kitchen, I finished my bagel in approximately 4 ½ minutes. Not exactly the leisurely, adult meal I’d envisioned.

As I sat there sipping my lemonade, I realized I felt vaguely guilty. Guilty for paying someone to watch my child while I sip lemonade and stare into space. Guilty for leaving a poor, unsuspecting woman with Miles, who’s recently started this new screaming thing. (If anyone but Mom holds him for longer than a few minutes, he screams.)

Guilty for not showing Scarlett how to turn on the TV because I don’t want Miles watching it, even though that makes me a hypocrite because I often have the TV on when I’m home with him. But, really, was I going to insult the sitter by instructing her how to correctly position the bouncy seat so the TV screen is just out of the baby’s view? And did I really want her to discover that when Miles spots the TV, it often stops the screaming thing and gives you a whole 5 minutes of peace while he fixes a glassy stare at the screen? The answer is no, my friends.

I just remembered I also forgot to show Scarlett how to turn on the baby monitor, where the fire extinguisher is (do we even own one?), or where we hide the spare key in case she gets locked out. Plus, our fridge is practically empty, and she didn’t seem all that comfortable with the dog.

Remind me again why I thought hiring a babysitter would ease my stress?