High Needs Kids, High Needs Parenting

See how happy?

Felix loves to smile at people. He has a big grin for anyone who will smile back, especially old ladies. Virtually every time we go out, someone says, “What a happy boy! Is he always so happy?”

Short answer: no. Felix is a high-needs baby. Probably like most parents of high-needs babies, and also because he’s my first, it took me a while to figure it out. I knew he wasn’t “like” other babies, but I didn’t know that he fit into any particular category. I watched other babies fall asleep without nursing, without a fuss; watched them sit in high chairs throughout a whole meal, perfectly content with a toy or two; heard about how they sleep through car rides; go two hours without nursing; watched them play on the floor while their mom made dinner – all things my baby is not capable of doing.

Introductions

First things first - the introductions.

[Digression (So soon? Yes): I never know whether or not to apostrophize the “things” in that phrase. First thing is first, or first things are first? Someone google this and let me know. I can’t be bothered.]

My name is Susan. No one calls me that. My nickname is Susie. No one calls me that. I’m mostly known as Suze.

[Digression (AGAIN? Yes): There has been much familial debate on how to properly spell my name. Suz? Sooz? The winner was finally declared - Süz. This is often impractical, and so I usually settle for Suze.]

Important things, that is to say, a brief existential roadmap: I am 26. I have been married for four (So young! Yes). His name is John. That is his actual name and also how he is mostly known. I grew up near Houston, I went to college in Austin (now home), we moved to San Francisco after getting married, and moved back to Austin shortly after our Wee One was born. Felix. Or Monster, F-Bomb, Wee One, Boy - all as he is mostly known.

So that neither of us is disappointed - this will not be a “journey through the new and scary world of motherhood!” type of adventure. Because that chick-lit, mom-in-stilettos, do-it-all, have-it-all crap makes me want to barf. Find the man, get the ring, have the baby! GROSS. I’m not exactly sure how I’m any different, because I have done those things in that order, BUT I AM, goddammit. Anyway, this will most likely end up involving a proportionate amount of each of my interests and doings...which, shit, means it'll probably be a mommy blog.  Can we at least call it something else?  Parenting blog.  Family blog.  Anything but mommy blog.  Oh, I shudder.

Hey, I heard blogging is a cool way for stay at home moms to avoid getting bored and getting hooked on Valium. Internet, it’s called, right? I hear it’s like a computer billboard.