I Wasn't Kidding...

I wasn't kidding when I said I was going to buy Carolyn a straight-jacket.  Of course, no one would buy a product called "Straight-Jacket for Babies", so they're sold as "Halo Sleep Sacks".

Here's how Carolyn felt about being put in her Halo Sleep Sack:

Here she is literally ten seconds later:

She kind of looks sad.  Or resigned.  Like, "I can't help that I have the weirdest mother in the world who insists on keeping me swaddled because if I'm not, I'm screaming my head off."

Just as a side note here, today to curb her crying, I took her on a car ride and vacuumed for fifteen minutes (even though it only takes three to vacuum the entire downstairs).  Neither one of them worked.  She screamed right through them.  Any other suggestions??

This is Carolyn's preferred sleeping position when not swaddled (this is a rare sight these days):

Don't these little purple socks make you laugh?  They're like knee-high bobby socks on her:

And this has nothing to do with anything, but this is the chair I nurse in during the middle of the night:

I'm in love with it - even if it is shoved in the very last .2 centimeters of available space left in the room.

And speaking of nursing, Carolyn has been fussy, fussy, fussy for the last three days while nursing.  I've done some research and I still I have no idea why.  This morning, she clamped down on my nipple and then whipped her head back to pull off.  I swear to you, she took all of the skin off with it.  It hurts so bad I can't feed her on that side.  It might be the most painful thing that's ever happened to me.  I'm not kidding. 

I now watch talk shows a lot while trying to get Carolyn to stop crying.  You know what's not funny?  People who go on talk shows and try their hardest to be funny.  Like Tracy Morgan yesterday on Oprah.  So not funny.  You know what was funny?  Date Night with Steve Carell and Tina Fey.

I'm anti-Gretchen Wilson.  Also anti-skinny jeans.

Question:  Can anxiety be passed through breast milk?  You know, like cholesterol or something?  Because maybe the reason my baby is so colicky is because her mother is an anxiety riddled fruit cake.

Oh, and I'm pretty sure I smell like a combination of sweat and sour milk.  Just so you know.