some stuff
mostly about Howie
-This was week one of operation vertical parent before 8 am and no tv for Howie. Remember I got up with him on
Monday? The first thing he did was ask for the tv. I said, "no. no shows todays." He responded, "no Arpur?
No... Arpur?!" like he just couldn't wrap his little mind around a day with no
Arthur and the rest of PBS kids. Cute, but ineffective. It served as the ammo I needed to stand my ground and leave the television off. It's gone pretty well. He rarely asks for it, although the remote was left within his reach and he got a few minutes of a soap opera on Wednesday. He did get to watch his beloved
George Friday afternoon while I was napping. All in all, a very good week.
The weekend was a bit of a different story. He got a few hours of cartoons each morning. Matt decided weekends are special and some tv is okay. I don't expect Matt to break his Saturday morning cartoon habit of the last 25 years, and since weekends are his mornings, I'm going to stay out of it. However, when both your parents work from home, weekends aren't all that easy to distinguish from the rest of the week. Especially when you're not quite two.
-I don't know if is a product of turning off the tv, or if we never noticed because we were ignoring him, but Howie has developed selective hearing. If we ask something he isn't too keen on, all we get is "huh?"
"Howie, can you get in your chair so we can eat, please?"
"huh?"
"will you get in your chair, please?"
"huh?"
"get in your chair; it's time to eat."
"huh?"
"do you want some oatmeal for breakfast?"
"yeah! oats!"
"get in you chair please."
"huh?"
-He's getting taller. He's almost level with the next slot up for his carseat straps. He's still on the shortest setting. All the 12-18 month pants that we got out last month are suddenly too short. I'm glad he's growing, but how do they do that so fast? It's doubley exciting because now a shopping trip is in order. Woo! Anyone up for hitting the outlets?
Also, can someone explain the difference between 24 mo and 2t clothes?
-the clock. aka, the reason I didn't post this on Wednesday when I started it. I didn't bother to retrieve the camera from Matt's desk downstairs until today. Then, thanks to the bay window directly opposite, I had a hard time getting a decent picture. Without further ado, I give you the clock (and the nearly dead plant):
Isn't that wall just screaming for some paint? The cream face of the clock against the barely beige wall just isn't doing it for me. Support my co-dependency and tell me what you think I should do. just paint? what color? which wall? hang something else on the wall?
stylin'
Howie likes to have his hair done in the morning when Matt is doing his own. Here's how it looks when your dad is your stylist
mugging for the camera after Howie had "fixed" his hair. The screen was flipped around, so he was making faces at himself.
finally
-a day I don't have to work (as in, the job that pays me minor duckets). My job is arguably easy, but I picked up two days in exchange for time for our trip a few weeks ago and worked the last six days in a row. It wiped me out. I've lost my stamina as a working woman. More distant than the memory of a chubby Howie, there was a time when I did both work and school full time. Now 34 hours in 6 days has me completely worn out. I think I'm pregnant or something. Speaking of being tired:
-Finally, a full night's sleep. I don't think I've had that since before Howie was born. We were all in bed by 9 last night and slept until Howie's 6 am boobie call. I had to make myself not think about the time on the clock when I rolled out of bed after feeding him. My brain is programmed to reject 6:30 as a normal hour to rise. Any hopes of making this a regular occurence were dashed when I felt full-on icky by 8, was exhausted by 9 and had a raging headache by 11. It seems by body is rejecting getting up before the sun. It could just be coincidence, but I'm not taking any chances. I napped when Howie did, and so the odds of an early bedtime and a replay tonight/tomorrow are slim. Speaking of time:
-Finally, the big clock is hung. You know, the one I bought over 7 months ago when Matt went to Minneapolis for a conference and so Howie and I had a shopping trip? the one that has been sitting on the ledge by the stairs that whole time and has been out of its box for 6 of those months? Yeah, that one. Matt hung it Friday. It is now the second item we've put up in our living room/kitchen. We've only lived here 19 months. The wall it went on still needs painted, but that might be another 19 months before I decide which way I want to go with that. Speaking of being behind on our house:
-Finally, our bathroom is completely clean. It's been oh, about 7 weeks since I last did that. Now that I'm mostly over the pukey stage, the toilet is finally clean enough to cuddle up to. Cleaning the bathroom has been my sole responsibility since about a month after we were married. That was back when we cleaned it every week. I informed Matt that his methods and standards of bathroom cleanliness did not equal mine. It's the only room about which I'm even a little bit anal. I love me a clean bathroom. It has remained my job these last five and a half years, even when I don't feel up to it for two months straight. You'd think the guy could do a token wipe of the counter or swish of the toilet brush. I'm not complaining... just sayin'...
I think I want that
What? Sarah McLachlan's new
Christmas Album. I saw her promoting it on The Tonight Show Wednesday night. Even though the song she sang (River) was a little depressing for a Christmas song, the rest of the playlist has me excited. I love her music. and to have her singing Christmas songs? even better.
I've always loved Christmas music. I own more Christmas albums than the rest of my music collection combined. I think it goes back to my mom breaking it out November 1st. She claims one month just isn't enough. I usually hold back and start listening Thanksgiving weekend (that's partially for Matt's sake). I love the Christmas season and the memories and feelings that the music brings back. It's even more special to me now that we have Howie.
He was born the first part of December and the music always takes me back to that week. Especially vivid are the memories of driving in the car on the cold mornings, both on the day he was born and a week later when we finally got to bring him home. I was shivering from the cold and from excitement. It also reminds me of the one hour a day we would leave the hospital in the days after I was discharged, but when we were still sleeping there. They closed the nicu during shift changes and we would run home to scarf down dinner, check messages and grab anything we would need for the next day. Christmas music was our soundtrack for that time.
The station we listened to must have used the same playlist every day, because the same songs always seemed to be playing. There's a song by Vanessa Williams (of whom I am generally not a fan) that brings back powerful memories of the uncertainty of that time. All the emotions of being a new mom coupled with Howie being sick never failed to make me tear up when I heard it. For all they played it the year he was born, I only heard it a few times last year. It's probably a good thing because I would have either been a blubbering mess by the end of the season, or not effected by it at all anymore.
As much as I love Christmas music, I do think less is more. When scanning the stations in our rental car, I came across a station playing Carol of the Bells. It was Labor Day weekend and I figured it must be a song that had lyrics added and has been adapted to suit the Christmas season and it was a classical station playing the instrumental, non-Christmas version. I was surprised to learn that, because I hadn't ever realized it, but soon discovered I was way off track. I had found a station that plays nothing but Christmas music, all day, everyday.
Now, that is more than a little excessive to me. It would be like eating home-made caramels all year and Thanksgiving dinner every week, or filling your house with lovely decorations and yummy Christmas-y smells all the time. As much as I love those things, I think it would take away part of the fun and anticipation of the holiday season. There are some things for me that are so uniquely special to that season, that I don't want to detract from that.
So, department stores might set up their displays in September, my grocery store may already be selling eggnog, and some of you probably have half of your shopping done, but I'm going to wait. Like eating the whole pan of brownies while it is still hot, I'm going to leave all things Christmas for the proper season. Rather than spread it out and get tired of it, I want to enjoy it all together and have each piece add to the others.
Yes, I'll still buy that new cd, but maybe not just yet.
Do you remember...
when I had a fatty baby?
Yeah, me neither.
too little, too late
sorry kid, those five drops you sqeeze out into your potty chair don't count if you do it while I am cleaning pee out of the carpet. No praise, high-fives, cheers, or applause for that one- just a mom swearing under her breath asking why you couldn't have done that in the first place.
On the upside, I did learn a new parenting skill. If there are several steps leading up to a task or event, you need to list them all for your child from the start. For example, don't just suggest a bath and go on about how nice and fun a bath would be if you want your kid to try sitting on the potty first. Otherwise, your naked toddler may run screaming from the bathroom and sob in the corner about how you promised a bath, he wants a bath, and you didn't say potty, just bath. Actually, he may just say, "tub. tub! no potty, tub!" but you get the point.
So, a 22 month old will not listen to reason that his diaper from two hours ago is still dry, he's naked anyway and as soon as he gives it a try, he can get in the tub. Nope, he'll just cry in the corner until he pees on the floor because you didn't prepare him that sitting on the potty would come first. One more lesson learned the hard way.
taking the crunchy thing a little far
When did that happen?
Long ago when I was pregnant with Howie, I saw
this quiz on a message board. At the time, I scored about 40, or sprinkled with granola- based purely on what I thought my parenting would be like.
Sheri was jell-o, but we decided we could probably still be friends anyway. I recently saw it again and to my surprise broke 100. I'm pretty crispy and on the cusp of love that whole-grain crunch. If I had a little more righteous indignation about circumcision or gave myself 10 points for holding out against the chicken pox vaccine I would have crossed the line, no question.
How the heck did I get so crunchy? I've always had the tendancies. We are the freaks of the neighborhood. I've compared us to butterfinger candy bars or yogurt dipped granola where you can't tell just how crunchy they are from the outside. We live in the suburbs, maintain standards of personal grooming, are college educated (at least Matt has the pieces of paper) and have/had corporate jobs. Yet, we recycle like mad (for over 6 months we were the only ones in the development with a bin), only have one pseudo-hippy car, cloth diaper, co-sleep, babywear, have a push lawnmower and Howie's still nursing at 22 months old- and those are the short lists.
I'm sure his allergies and temperment early on bumped us up quite a bit. The exclusive breastfeeding in the first 6 months, buying organic and baking our own bread (well, sometimes) are all direct results of avoiding dairy and soy. The co-sleeping and babywearing could probably fall under the allergy umbrella, too. While not a direct need for his health, they were necessary for our mental stablility. His boob addiction where we're speeding toward age two and the fact that I'm already pregnant again factored in there as well.
I don't view that quiz as scientific or comprehensive by any means, but the results are pretty clear. I'm a crunchy granola tree-hugger. Can we still be friends?
What does it all meme?
I was tagged for a meme by
No Cool Story (which isn't true, she has many a great story). She assigned me 4 words about which I have to write the first thing I think of.
celebrity - guilty pleasure. Yeah, celebrities are mostly dumb and self important, but I like reading about them. I check out the gossip mags in the line at the store. I don't subscribe to any, but you can bet that I don't go for
Good Housekeeping or
Fit Pregnancy while I'm waiting in the dr's office.
definite - something I rarely feel. For the most part, I'm wishy-washy and noncommittal. I'm not a fan of polls that ask you to list your favorites. Mine change, and change often. I'm the worst at picking restaurants. I guess it's a good thing that Matt and I rarely go on dates any more. It was really tiresome to choose on a weekly basis the first few years we were married.
strength - I'm probably the last person who should be talking about strength. Physically, I've turned to mush over the last three years or so. That's due mostly to my lack of strength in other areas. Wake up early to work out? bah. Have a healthy snack instead of the assorted baked goods that are perpetually stacked on my counter? ha! Let's not even get into how I went to school for 7 years and still have no degree or that I can't seem to get my whole house clean on the same day. strength, discipline. nope, not me.
dessert - usually a favorite subject of mine, but I'm so not feeling it these days. Sugar isn't my regular companion during the first trimester. However, I found some caramel corn in the pantry that Tedi brought home from work. I couldn't stay away from it. It was amazing to start, but was made even better because some of the pieces were coated in milk chocolate. I even searched for it online and learned that I'll never buy myself a bag. It's crazy expensive. If I get fatter off that, I won't be able to afford the new wardrobe I'll need. That being said, if anyone wanted to buy me a gift- Matt, for example, as a small token of his appreciation for gestating his child, the stuff was called
Moose Munch by Harry and David. Everyone knows calories don't count if it's a gift.
I'm not tagging anyone because I don't want to think of any words for them.
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in other news:
Howie seems to be completely recovered. Thanks for the well wishes. He was much better Saturday. It was a nasty bug, but relatively quick one. The only lingering effect seems to be renaming his stomach. He was playing with a baby brush on Sunday morning. "brush my hair, my ear, my back, my arm" and then "my hurt" as he brushed his tummy. He told us a few more times today that it hurt, but I think he's talking about the past and just has a pretty strong imprint on how miserable he was.
little sickly sickerson
note- a somewhat disgusting post about a toddler with a gastrointestinal virus.
Howie has had a long couple of days, and ours as his parents have been almost as bad. He's been truly sick so few times that I don't deal with it well. It started Thursday morning with his stomach making awful noises. He clutched it and told us that it hurt so many times over the next two days that he started to consistantly get the r sound in there. Cute, but oh so sad.
Other items on the sad scale include him throwing up for hours Thursday evening. He would wake up, whimper "help", vomit, and then his eyes would roll back and he'd pass out again. That's not good state for over protective parents. We were a little freaked out and spent the evening alternately cuddling and rocking him and exchanging wide-eyed glances that said, "holy crap. what the heck are we supposed to do now?"
We scared him by thrusting a bowl in his face so many times that by the end of the evening he would swallow the vomit back down. So sad. Almost equally so was him crying softly for a towel after puking on his bedding in the middle of the night. It was more than I could take when he woke begging for a glass of water, which basically rebounded off his stomach and came right back up, and then cried for more to drink. I handed him over to Matt to rock him to sleep at that point. We did get some sprite to stay down the next time he woke. That greatly improved sleep for all of us and slowed the rate of growth of the mound of laundry at the foot of our bed.
We're well versed in the habits of sleeping with a puking kid after the first year of his life. Co-sleeping with a projectile vomiter desensitizes you a little. We stacked flannel receiving blankets under us and kept a pile of quilts handy to cover us. We'd strip off a layer of flannel and replace the quilt if necessary and go back to sleep. We're pretty good about guiding the direction of his mouth and don't think much about cupping our hands in front of a gagging child. Lucky for us, he hadn't eaten much and it wasn't all that different from the milk allergy barfing we got to experience when he was still only breast feeding.
He was doing better Friday. At least the lethargy and vomiting were gone, but he was still very much a sick boy. He still clutched his stomach at regular intervals and we kept him in disposable diapers all day. Given the frequent, frothy and putrid state of the contents of said diapers, I'm diagnosing
rotavirus - likely from the shopping cart Wednesday. It was the kind with the plastic car on the front for kids to ride in. Against my better judgement, I skipped it wiping with the clorox wipe. This is not going to help me curb my germaphobic tendancies.
I was actually glad to see all the pooping. He tore apart a headphone set on one of our flights last week. I discovered one foam ear piece in his mouth and the other was nowhere to be found. We've been paranoid ever since that he swallowed it and were worried that this was all caused by some sort of blockage. I'm pretty confident in saying that isn't the case.
Here he is watching Pooh twice in a row- note the barf bowl still on the table:
and the way I spent the day- all from the night before:
luckily, Matt folded it all while i worked.
reuinted
welcome home. it's about dang time.
Where we at?
This is the question Howie has greated me with for the last four mornings. The first three days I answered, "at our friends' house" and today it was "home" to which he replied with a grin, "home, home, home, home, home!" Home was also the word he said as they opened the cabin door on our arrival last night and he chanted "we home" as we got him ready for bed at 1 am. I think he's glad to be back.
We left very early Friday morning and spent three days with our good friends in the Washington DC area. We had visited last summer and spent several days hitting the main tourist points, so this was a nice relaxing time. We did go to an Ikea and the zoo, but we spent the rest of the time talking and laughing late into the night, eating more than we should and sleeping late. It was lovely. It may have been wise to save the money rather than take a quick trip, but it was rather affordable and less expensive than therapy. Matt and I were both in need of a mental health break and this was just the thing for us.
Howie traveled like a dream. He does much better on a plane than in a car. You know you are blessed with a great kid when two single male flight attendants come up to you individually after a flight to compliment you on how well he traveled. Of course, it may have been the televisions and the excitement of being on a plane, but I don't think their magic would have held out for a cumulative 16 hours in 4 days, not to mention another 5 hours in airports.
So, we're home. I finally have a legitimate excuse for a blogging absence of more than a day or two, other than the feeling like death for the last month. In that vein, I am feeling so much better. Or, I was while we were traveling. The improvement was like night and day and so very appreciated. I am feeling a little icky today, but that may be the late nights of the past few days catching up with me, or the associations around my house of all the times I recently felt sick, or maybe the few hours reading email and blogs so far today.
I'm quite sure there is a tie between the amount of time I spend with a computer monitor and how I feel. So, since I have to work tonight and spend a few more hours enjoying the glow from the screen, I'll leave you with a photo of Howie as we were leaving the zoo. I think we wore him out.
