Baby Gas: There’s Nothing Quite Like Broccoli & Peppers to Shake Up a Quiet Night!

Last night, Hubby was home for dinner for the first time in quite a while.  He has been working incredibly long days so I decided to make a nice steak dinner for him to enjoy when he got home.  We are finally seeing signs of spring so I ran outside and fired up the barbeque.  In order to keep the little ones occupied and safe so I could run in and out to check on the grill, I sat them in their seats in the kitchen with a snack and set the ipad up to play a Super Simple Songs playlist.  Both babies absolutely love these songs.  They capture their full attention and they wiggle and groove in their seats as they watch.  Hilariously, Mr. C gets so concerned at the end of each song.  He starts saying “Uh-oh!” over and over again with a look of panic on his face, looking between me and the ipad as if to say “Mom!  You have to fix it!” and then smiles and relaxes as the next song starts.

Both babies love steak dinner.  Who doesn’t?  Mr. C devoured baked potato, sautéed broccoli and red peppers and steak.  Miss M hasn’t been feeling all that well this week so she didn’t eat much at all.  She has had restless nights, low fevers and loss of appetite.  I finally identified the issue when I saw one of her 2 year molars peeking through her gums when I brushed her teeth a couple of days ago.  Teething is so rough.  This little girl just can’t seem to catch a break.  I sliced up some cheddar cheese just to get her to eat something.  She loves cheese.  As soon as she saw me take the brick of cheese out of the fridge, her face lit up and she exclaimed “Cheese!” a new, more proper pronunciation of the word.  Up until yesterday, she had always called it “chiz.”  She is really growing up quickly.

After dinner, we had an appointment to attend that was a 30 minute drive away.  Hubby and I worked together to get both babes cleaned up.  A fresh sweater for Miss M since she had smeared Greek yogurt from her baked potato all over it and clean pants for Mr. C since he had piled half of his dinner in his lap.  Miss M frantically wailed “Bee! Bee!” as she got to the car, realizing we had forgotten her blanket.  I ran in to grab it to avoid a meltdown.  We buckled the babes into their car seats and off we went.  Mr. C was restless in his car seat.  While Hubby drove, I spent most of the drive turned around backwards, reaching back to tickle him and play peek-a-boo with him in the mirror.  On the way home, he was even more restless.  He screamed hysterically the entire way.  Nothing would soothe him; not my passenger seat theatrics, not any of the kids’ music CDs in the car, not his sippy cup.  Nothing.  Miss M sat quietly in her car seat with her blanket bunched up around her and her thumb in her mouth.  She was exhausted.  I managed to gain some temporary relief from the screaming and settle him down by handing him my water bottle.  I remember doing the same thing with Miss M.  There is something about how tall it is with water swooshing back and forth inside the clear walls that mesmerizes them.

When we got home, Miss M was a bit cranky.  She didn’t eat any dinner so I brought her into the kitchen to give her a snack figuring she would be hungry now or during the night if she didn’t get something into her tummy.  Mr. C had a snack too because he’s a tank and regardless of how much he ate at the last meal, would never say no to food.  He was still a bit out of sorts.  We suspected he was tired and didn’t appreciate spending an hour in his car seat after dinner instead of the usual walk around the neighbourhood and bath.  Miss M ate some apple, peanut butter on crackers and raisins.  Mr. C ate the same.  As I peeled the lid off of a cup of yogurt and handed it to her, I remarked to Hubby that they were really tired and were actually pretty clean, so perhaps after they finished their snack, we could skip bath time tonight.  No sooner had I uttered those words, then Miss M scooped one spoonful of yogurt into her mouth and then flipped the container upside down onto her head, laughing as she wore it as a little hat..with yogurt dripping down her hair and cheeks.  Scrap that.  I’ll start the tub.  That girl is in a new phase where everything goes on her head during meal time.  She pulls her bib off and wears it on her head, her plate, food, anything she can get her little sticky hands on ends up on her head.

After their baths, both babes went down to bed easily.  Hubby read Miss M her bedtime story while I rocked and read a book to Mr. C.  They were exhausted and went right to sleep.  Hubby and I decided that since he was home at a reasonable time, that we would have a mini, at-home date night.  We ate nachos and enjoyed a couple of beers.  About 2 hours later, Mr. C woke up screaming at the top of his lungs.  We both paused, speechless, holding our breath, staring at the stairs for a few seconds to decipher what the scream meant and if he would fall back asleep.  No.  It was a panicked scream, like he was in pain.  I ran upstairs and expected to open the nursery door to find Mr. C standing up in his crib.  He wasn’t.  He was still lying down, his sleepy eyes barely open, crying in pain.  I picked him up and his tired eyes tried to adjust to see me.  His back arched and his tummy was hard.  He had gas pains.  Gas pains are the worst.  Poor little guy.  I immediately felt guilty, recalling the evening and realizing that he ate a bunch of broccoli and peppers and then sat still in his car seat for an hour tonight.  That in itself was recipe for disaster.  As I carried him down the stairs so he wouldn’t wake up Miss M, he let out a couple man-sized toots but it wasn’t enough.  I laid him on the couch between Hubby and I and started pumping his legs like he was riding a bike and rubbing his tummy.  Hubby tried to make him laugh to distract him from the pain but was unsuccessful.  He tried to offer him a bottle but it was quickly swatted away.  After 10 minutes or so of leg pumping, I asked Hubby to run a warm bath for him.  Gas pains are awful.  They hurt so bad, little ones don’t understand and as a parent, you feel so helpless watching your baby in such agony.  A warm bath should offer some relief.

We went upstairs with a still hysterical Mr. C, arching his back in pain.  I knew he wasn’t going to get into the bath tub by himself so I handed him to Hubby, stripped down myself, took him back and got in the tub with him.  I sat him on my lap and poured warm water over his swollen belly with a  wash cloth while Hubby tried to distract him with an Elmo bath toy.  It worked.  The warm water offered him some relief and he started to relax.  Hubby stood Elmo on the side of the bath tub then flicked him into the tub exclaiming “Woah! Elmo had a big dive!”  Mr. C immediately stopped crying and started laughing through his teary eyes.  I continued to pour warm water down his tummy and Hubby continued with his 1 man (1 puppet?) theatrical performance.  Mr. C started letting out all kinds of gas and it bubbled up to the surface of the water.  It’s funny how you get desensitized to things like this after a little time in motherhood.  Here I was sitting in the tub, feeling relieved (not disgusted) to see baby fart bubbles all around me.  And here was my husband, on his knees at the side of the tub playing with an Elmo bath toy, making our son crack up while it happened.

We got out of the tub and Hubby diapered and dressed Mr. C while I got dressed myself.  Mr. C was a new man.  He felt great!  Thank goodness.  The bath had worked.  I apologized to him for feeding him gassy veggies and then strapping him in a seat.  He seemed forgiving.  He felt so great that there was no way he was going to bed.  We brought him downstairs and let him play for a little bit to work out any other gas he might have and let him relax a bit.  I think he was incredibly excited to have Mommy and Daddy all to himself while his sister slept.  He was so happy and giggly, crawling back and forth between us then standing up banging on the end table, trying to pull the lamp off.  (He already has a nasty purple bruise on his forehead from trying to do the same thing earlier in the day.)  He had the time of his life while Hubby and I sat, staring at him, energy depleted, beer warm on the table, our bed calling our name.  We were tired.  It was almost midnight, after all.

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

After he had burned off some energy, we brought Mr. C up to his crib and tucked him in.  He happily obliged and went right to sleep.

This was an interesting twist on an at-home date night.  Who knew a few baby farts could be so disruptive?

Sweet dreams little man!

Sweet dreams little man!

andbabymakes3imean4 is one mom’s adventures while tap dancing on the brink of insanity with 2 babies, 11 months apart.  If you liked this post, please subscribe to my blog or like my page on facebook to be the first to know of future posts.  Thanks for reading! xo

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