Newsletter: month 7

Sweet JB,



This news letter is going to be short this month.



But I didn't want to miss at least posting some pictures of you.



You got a 2nd ear infection this month.



But you are not taking medicine as easily this time



You are sitting up







You are talking: da-da-da



You are starting to experience more separation anxiety.



And you will start to cry when we leave the room now...





You smack your lips when you are eating.



You spit out bananas.



You like spinach and potatoes and other veggies.



You don't like fruit (babyfood)



Your tiny feet stink after a day in socks.



You like to look at board books



You have started putting your arms up to be picked up.



We have stopped using the carrier car seat and put you into the bigger one in the rear-facing position.



You are in 6 to9 month or 6-12 month clothes depending on the brand.













You had your church dedication this month.




Your Mommy and Mama love you

Overheard on the morning commute

T's cell phone: Ring ring.

(Call is from "wife" who happens to be driving in front of me as we left for our respective work destinations in our respective cars only moments earlier.)

t: Hello.
kt: Yo. I've got your wallet.
t: oh, good to know.

(we pull over and she one-arms it to me through 2 open car windows.)

t: Thank God you remembered, that could have been bad...
k: I found it in my purse when I went to get my lipstick... You're lucky I'm serious about that shit!

Softball

Last night was our first softball practice... My first since 2006 as I did not play at all when I was pregnant. It was the perfect night weather-wise and felt good to get out there! The soreness this am feels good.

I've mentioned the team here and here, and here. I've played on this team for many, many (too many to mention years)... And yet, yesterday was the first time I ever remember taking an infield practice. Some of players have decided they are too old and should "retire to the sidelines." This saddens me a little but coincides perfectly with our family's recent need for field-side child care.

Also, my sister has joined Kt and me on the team. Yesterday's practice marks the 2nd time in her life Web has grabbed a glove and taken the field. The 1st was when i was in jr high school and we only had 8 players. Her 7 inning stint in right field prevented a forfeit.

I was proud of her last night. She hit decent, laughed at herself, and I could tell she spent 80-90% of the practice mentally calculating her personal "improvement strategy."

I love summer-time.

Overheard in our kitchen: 7:12am

Mom #1: I can't believe I stepped over that swiffer 3 times before noticing it was in the middle of the floor
Mom #2: (cough, cough, sniffle, sneeze)
Mom #1: It's kind of good, because if a burgler broke in s/he would take a look around and leave, assuming we had already been hit.
Mom #2: That's why I keep my office looking a wreck too.

Eye Infection

I am a sufferer of chronic sties. At first I blamed myself- it seemed an obvious indication of poor hygiene and too much sticking of dirty fingers in my eyes. But then I paid more attention and kept my hands away from my eyes and started "washing" my eyes with baby shampoo, and while the frequency decreased, I continued to get them- in both eyes, on both lids, randomly.

I work in a facility that has a huge percentage of Puerto Rican (mainly) women, and since starting there 4 years ago I've learned a lot about food: I've learned the way(s) I like my Yucca cooked, the flan recipes that I prefer, and that there are many varieties of beans and many ways to prepare beans that my family never exposed me to. (That make beans D-lish-ous!) I've also learned a little about PR culture and one fact has been pointed out to me again and again: A sty means that you have "with held something from a pregnant woman." I've been accused of harming or with holding from people so often, that I have started embracing the reputation: "Look, I cannot give a pregnant woman everything she wants from me," I tease. "Some things just cross a line." wink, wink, nudge, know-what-i-mean?

All kidding aside, last year when I was pregnant I had the worst of my sties surgically excised in an un-covered by insurance opthomological teaching-moment (for the new resident) that I paid the cost of a new 22" flat screen TV for. Since then though- during the worst of my pregnancy and 5 months at home with the baby... really no sties to speak of.

When I returned to work, I got 3 in five weeks, and this week, I got a really nasty conjunctivitis. Katy and I've decided that this is (for some reason) how my stress manifests itself:

Kt: Maybe this is symbolic about your eyes, how you take in the world, what you see or are forced to see, how you keep or protect yourself...

T: Um... when are you going to be finished with that Eat.Pray.Love book?

Kt: Yeah, play dumb if you want, I know you buy into this stuff a little...

T: I think when I was dipped into the dangerous but protective river Styx, they were holding me by my eyeballs like a bowling ball.

Kt: You're not right.

Not meant to be...

I've been looking for the right sized, silver hoop earrings for the better half of a year.
I finally found them less than 2 weeks ago. My last pair of hoops stayed in my ears- with me practically never taking them out at all- for several years. When one of those broke, the first few days without my earrings in were like the first few showers after an extreme haircut.

So finally, I find the pair I like. I buy them. I put them in...

And yesterday, JB sticks his hand up, puts his finger thru the hoop (very impressive, developmentally) and pulls. The earring falls to the ground, through the slats of the ground-level deck...

Bye-bye, earring.
I think it's time to start baby-proofing the house too.

A few things

1. We had a lovely visit from the womb whisperer and her luvahh this weekend. We ate yummies and went to bed early.

2. JB is in number 3 pam.pers now... it is a kind of inconsequential reminder of how he is already growing up... I don't think I would be sad about this at all except as some of you may know, the pam.pers have little sesame street characters on the waistband. On number ones, big bird, elmo, ernie, and bert, etc are babies. On size two they are "toddler-looking" and on size three, they practically look like themselves. I am opposed to this type of "rapid-aging" of the characters. When I see the JB's new diapers, I cringe- these kids are all growzed up ("F").

3. The boy got another ear infection last week. This time in his left ear. He is on day 7 of his second 10-day course of antibiotics. He is doing well, but his appetite is markedly diminished. The crying, sad, feverish first few days last week were followed by a few days of puking. He was good at developing a warning system: a weird outcry, followed by a fake-sounding cough, and an abbreviated gurgle immediately proceeded projectile splatter. Web was christened last Friday when she baby sat in the morning, and at church on Sunday there was actually a splashing sound when about 40cc of swallow hit the floor. mmm... tasty. I don't know if the antibiotics or the mucus are throwing his GI tract for a loop, but yesterday at school, he required a full costume change. They sent him home with 2 crap-filled shirts, a pair of socks, pants, a soiled sheet, and a story that alleged it took 3 staff members to stage the clean-up.

4. My gram turned 84 last week and we attended a big bash for her. At that time, I saw Mac place an order for the first time. It went something like:

Waitress: (clearing the table)
Papa: Can I please have a coke?
Waitress: Of course. Can I get anything else for anyone at this time?
(silence) Waitress turns to walk away
Mac: (calling after her) I have some milk too...

I'm not going to lie, this kid stuns me. She's two! No one else ordered milk. No one asked if she wanted anything to drink... In this 45 second exchange she was paying enough attention to know that beverage orders were being placed. Ridiccockulous.

5. I am all tuckered out. My wife is being patient and supportive beyond the call of duty. We went to bed at 8:45 last night and I'm in bed as soon as I hit publish here. The events at work last week might be having their cumulative effect. I can't say I don't like my job because I do, but I'm back to daily headaches. I'm back to decreased milk production. I had to terminate an employee yesterday and there is a never-ending list of other "issues" that we are dealing with. blah. blah. blah.

6. My kid gets cuter every day... seriously. He's awesome.

Overdue

The newsletter is finally done.

One smart cookie

Last Thursday, I had dinner at my parent's house.

Even though my sister had eaten there the night before, she brought her family to Nana and Papa's (I think) because I hinted hard that it would be nice to see them there.

My mom and gram picked up JB at work-camp school and coordinated the timing with my sister's pick up, b/c as I have found it difficult, my mom has found it near impossible to pick one of the grands up and leave 1 or 2 of the others behind. Mom said when they got him, JB looked a little surprised or overwhelmed by the army approaching to gather him up. I reminded them that "surprised" is his default expression:




We have spend the better part of 2 years praising Mac's intellect and my sister and B in law's impressive array of parenting skills. But lately, with ever increasing verbal and cognitive skills, and a new sister and cousin in the picture, Mac has really raised the bar. She is so attentive to the kids and only flashes glimmers of jealousy, somehow stifling impulses to lash out at the adults or the babies. At dinner, Mac was behaving like a 2 year old which for her is "acting up," but the entire time I had to hide my giggles and not show her how impressed I was with her cleverness.

When jb's babbling during dinner got him a little extra attention from Papa, Mac turned to him and banged her hands on his high chair to interrupt his speech. Then she raised a forefinger at him and said, "JB, you be good." I was amused but her mother was not. My sister lifted my niece out of her chair and said, "I need to talk to you for a minute over here." As they approached the stairs i heard Mac pose a question-statement:
Mac: I am going to time out.
Web: No, you are not going to time out, but I want to talk to you
Mac: I not going to time out.
Web: You need to listen to me. JB has a mommy. In fact, he has two mommies. He doesn't need you telling him what to do...

I missed the end of the lesson, but when Mac came back she was all, "Hi, JB... Good boy, JB."

Then after a few minutes, Mac said she was done with her dinner. My sister knows she says this when she wants to get down from the table.

Web: Are you done with dinner?
Mac: yes. done.
Web: If you are done with dinner, you are all done. You can't get down and then eat more later.
Mac understood what my sister was getting at without further explanation. She held her forefinger up (at my sister this time) in the manner of someone saying, "Wait one minute,"
and nodded at Web with, "Just one cookie."

Me: (snickering- trying not to laugh audibly)
Web: No, if you are finished eating, you are finished eating... If you have more asparagus and chicken, you can have one cookie later.
Mac: (forming a peace sign with her fingers and clearly training to be a hostage negotiator, counters with) Two cookies...



She's such a sweetie.

missing my blogging life

So, sadly, I still do not have the 6th month newsletter completed.

It is effecting me emotionally, b/c it is symbolic of all of the things I am "not on top of" right now. Also, the newletter is like a monkey on my back and I can't seem to blog about all the "little things" because that bigger thing is in the way...

(I'm so weird.)

Our house (though filled brimming to the top with love, laughter, sweetness, and general contentment) is by all rational standards filthy in need of some scrubbing.

The baby is sleeping thru the night (sort of) ... Well, waking up once or twice, but going back to sleep without being fed in the middle of the night.

Work for me is heartbreaking. (Surprisingly) It's not because I wish I wasn't working at all. I actually like getting out of the house, and I think that he gets more love and appreciation from me when I see him now (How that's possible, I don't know, as I was loving and appreciating the living crap out of him during my maternity leave.) But because my work seems insurmountable in the "catch up" and because the wave of demands that was kept at bay for a few weeks has crashed over on top of me. I am so disorganized that I want to throw up at several points during the day. Plus, well there's a lot more that I just can't go into...

Due to this work "crisis," the difficulty I am having finding time to pump, and (possibly) the few doses of pseudephed I took earlier in the week my milk production has decreased to 1/2 of the amount I was producing a week ago... We have gone thru our extra/frozen supply and I am back to squeezing out a few ounces in the AM to give the boy what he will need to get through work camp day care. It is fine. But a tiny bit stressful.

Though I should be working all weekend long to try and do some of the billions of things I didn't get to work on this week, I can not wait for the 2 days with my boy and my girl, and I doubt that I will come into the office at all.

On the bright side, katy's women's bball brackets are in good shape. She created 5 versions on line and in one of them, she is ranked 206 out of over 100,000 people... The only problem is, she bet against Uconn in the final game where she surmised LSU would win the championship... WTF.

Her defense is logical: "I couldn't have Uconn winning in every one of my brackets..."
but can you imagine the shit storm if I had bet against Smith?!?

jeebus.