Officially freaked!

We babysat last night. The child in question is a 3 1/2-month-old known for being a good sleeper and a cheerful baby. Apparently, it was opposite day at the Odegaard household!

Baby was comfortably fed, diapered, swaddled and on her way to a deep sleep when her parents left. I remembered being disappointed that I wasn't going to get any "baby time," as she would very likely sleep soundly until her parents returned. In fact, she hadn't napped well that afternoon, so she was doubly guaranteed to spend the evening in dreamland.

Five minutes after her parents left, she fussed a little. And a little more. And a little more. I waited a full minute before heading upstairs to calm her (or so I thought...).

As soon as Baby laid eyes on me, she started crying even louder. I scooped her up and proceeded to use the tried-and-true soothing techniques I'd learned from a great DVD, Happiest Baby on the Block. One by one, they all failed.

Time to resort to our universal baby calmer: the fish tank. The light and smooth motions of the fish always seem to attract the attention of our friends' kids, and everyone from a three-month-old to a two-year-old have loved to just stare at it.

It worked! Temporarily, anyway. I'd accomplished the task of quieting the baby, but she certainly wasn't sleeping. At least it was some relief.

At this point, Matt had gotten dinner ready, so we took turns eating and trying to keep the baby calm. Soon, the fish tank, a really cool fuzzy book, our ceiling fan and other things failed us, one by one. We checked the diaper: dry. We tried a bottle: she sobbed between sips.

This is when I started to notice our parenting styles come to light. Scientific, ultra-patient Matt rationalized that nothing was actually wrong with the baby, and was prepared to wait it out. I freaked, blamed myself for causing the poor child emotional turmoil that would haunt her the rest of her life, and hoped that the baby's parents would still be friends with me.

The freaking out led to the best idea I'd had all evening: I called a friend with a 5-month-old. Hearing the cries over the phone, she knew the baby was very tired, but couldn't necessarily calm herself down at this point. Her guidance helped us coax the little one to sleep within 5-10 minutes--using the same DVD techniques I'd tried earlier! Whew! Problem solved, right?

But then, we noticed we were one cat short of our pair of cats. The missing cat is a regular Houdini when it comes to sneaking wraith-like into small, hidden places, only to appear hours later. She also yearns with a passion to be outside. A quick, yet thorough, search of the house yielded two possibilities: either she was in the room with the baby or roaming the neighborhood (Matt had been grilling and going in and out a lot). Neither was appealing! Do we risk waking the baby to try to find our cat? Do we start combing the neighborhood? We decided to risk the baby's room.

Matt ventured in with his trusty flashlight. Our other cat immediately recognized the beam as a toy and went happily romping in with him, only to get tossed rather harshly out. He looked all over the room for a full 5 minutes, successfully not waking the baby. No cat. we searched every other room, top to bottom, several times. No cat. Matt walked outside around the house. No cat!!!

I went into the baby's room to look for myself. No cat. Matt went back in. Cat!!! She had been wedged in between the two mattresses of our daybed, completely hidden from view. He'd only found her by sticking his hand in. I heard the small meow of protest on the baby monitor when he pushed her out.

The rest of the evening was, fortunately, uneventful. I was finally able to be soothed with ice-cream. I learned several things:

1. I might be frustrated, tired, and confused as a new mom, but I will not be bored.
2. At least I'll have the home-field advantage with Baby Girl.
3. Matt's patience knows no end whatsoever. This will come in handy.

Anybody else want us to babysit? :)