I’m going to have to make a hat out of tinfoil and start wearing it every day. Tinfoil is supposed to block others from reading your mind, right? Because if that’s the case, I think I’ll have to make more than one.
I bet right now, you are wondering if I’ve lost touch with reality, aren’t you?
Well, I haven’t. But I’m pretty sure Nathan is so in-tune with me that he is starting to read my thoughts. Not in a coherent way… not like I’m thinking about the color red and so he will, too. More like, if he’s sound asleep and I start thinking about him, he wakes up. Or if we’re all asleep and I have a dream about him, he wakes up. Or sometimes if I just think about his name in my head, HE WAKES UP.
In order to keep him asleep, I have to try to refrain from thinking too deeply about him.
I’ve also noticed that we both get fussy simultaneously. When I am in a bad mood, so is he. When he is in a bad mood, so am I. When one of us is happy, so is the other. It’s like our emotions and feelings are feeding off of each other, constantly linked. His emotions seem to be like a mirror-image of my own.
Other moms have always told me that children are linked to their parents like that. But I never knew it was so strong. It’s like a little piece of my soul has detached itself from me and has formed its own body.
I can’t let Nathan see me become frustrated. If I do, the poor little guy loses his cool. And trust me, it’s not fun when Nathan loses his cool. You’d think the end of the world is rapidly approaching. But even when I strain to hide any negative emotions, SOMEHOW HE STILL KNOWS.
It makes things difficult.
Especially breastfeeding. He’s going through his difficult breastfeeding phase again. He only likes to nurse laying down in bed. If I try to sit anywhere, he acts like I’m torturing him. But then while we’re laying in bed, he’ll stop feeding and fling himself away, flailing his little arms and legs around in a fit of protest against, well, that’s the problem.
I DON’T KNOW.
It’s so stressful when your child doesn’t want to eat. I try to sing to him, rub his little head, give him gentle kisses… but so far, it doesn’t phase him. I try not to let him see how anxious it makes me when he flails around instead of eating, but my little mind reader picks up on it anyways, upsetting himself even more.
I’m trying to make it to a year. That’s three more months. I will consider myself very fortunate if Nathan continues to breastfeed much longer than twelve months. Until then, I’m thinking about making that tinfoil hat.