Tuesday, September 30, 2008
12 day radio silence
We're still here. I have about 5 posts half started but incomplete. Lots has happened including the baby's first birthday. Stay tuned...
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Newsletter: Month 12
Dear JB,
Today you are ONE YEAR old!!!
We had a pretty huge party today, that is a good example of the kind of family you were born into. Lots of family, loads of friends, lots of love... You have extremely well intentioned mommies who maybe sometimes don't get the big picture until later. The main menu was chili. There was a white, chicken offering and a standard beef, tomato sauce option. I've been planning the food for weeks, but it occurred to me a few hours into the party that most little kids don't eat chili. Hmmm, well, let's be honest, the first birthday really isn't about you is it?
Your grannies have come for a visit and aside from allowing them to be at your party, the timing is fantastic because you seem on the brink of learning explosions in terms of (about to start) walking, communication, and recognition. Last week, you saw them on the computer and started clapping. You crawled over and put your face up to each of their faces on the screen, as if to hug them. Then you stood up by grasping the top of the imac and peered over the back of the monitor, looking for the rest of their bodies.
This month has a been a little different as your moms have made a big decision to put our house on the market. We are looking to move to decrease the amount of driving we all have been doing. So we are trying to pack some things up and de-clutter, and prepare to live in mental or physical limbo for a while. You are un-phased and luckily don't seem (at this tender age) to absorb the stress experienced around you. This might seem like a silly thing to comment on, but you come from a long line (both biologically and environmentally) of kin that can be affected by even the un-expressed stress of others. So we're relieved that you seem to be Mr. cool about external stressors; I guess that means we are doing a pretty good job shielding you from our anxieties.
Today at the party, you had cake for the first time. You didn't like the whipped cream on your hands and treated it like sand at the beach, trying to "shake" it off the minute you noticed the sensation of something "stuck" to your paws. It didn't occur to you to eat the whipped cream on your fingers until I introduced a small dollop to your mouth and forced you to taste it. Then you were more eager, but still never really tore into the cake we made for you to destroy. We had a clean outfit waiting, but you never got messy or dirty enough (even without a bib) and so you kept the same "Happy birthday to me" onsie on for the entire day.
You are eating 70% real food at this point: steak, ground beef, chicken, veggies, fruit, yogurt. We cut the stuff up into tiny little nibblets and you pincer-grasp or palm it in. You drink whole milk out of a sippy cup, and are down to about 2 bottles of formula a day. You like to feed yourself. If we have a spoon or fork out, you need to hold one too or else you cry, fuss, arch your back, and shake your head dramatically back and forth. So we do a modified eating do-si-do where you take a spoon or fork full and then we give you 2 to4 utensils full and then you forget about the fork and pick up the food for a little bit with the fingers of the hand that is not clutching the JB-spoon, and then we sneak a few more mouthfuls in with the mommy-spoon.
You definitely have a mind of your own and have preferences that are refreshingly innate. By that I mean, if we pay attention to your actions and likes/dislikes now, I think we'll see some that you have always had and will carry with you into adulthood. Example, you don't love shoes, but if your shoes are off, you will struggle and pull and contort yourself to get your socks off. You really don't like having socks on. You don't seem like hats or blankets that much either. People say, to us, "all kids are like that" and it's just not true. I've seen kids that keep their socks on, but you have earned the nick name, barefoot joe. The other night, I watched you tug at the feet of your sleeper, not understanding that they weren't socks but part of the outfit, and I was reminded of the infant JB- "Great Houdini", who wouldn't stay swaddled, no way, no how. You just don't seem to like being wrapped up or contained or covered. That's not to say that you don't like to cuddle or be cuddled. You are very snuggly and like to hug and kiss and put your head down on our shoulders and chests, but if you're not in the mood for that, everyone knows about it.
Another mannerism that we find adorable is how you sit with your feet crossed at the ankles. When you sleep either on your stomach or on your back you do this too. When I had that "scare" not able to feel you move for a few hours toward the end of my pregnancy, they did an ultrasound and you were sitting "like a Buddha" inside of me, ankles crossed over my cervix. It's a pretty mundane thing to mention, but it is decidedly "you". It seems to be your "zero" position, your default, resting, natural pose. I don't know why it's so cute. Something about your chubby, sock-less ankles crossed when you are playing, laughing, crying, talking on the phone, or sleeping makes me squint my eyes and recognize the old-man-soul that might be somehow already (at least partially) realized inside of you.
You are still (and I fear will forever be) obsessed with phones and anything electronic. You hold real phones, toy phones, and any other shaped object that has nothing to do with a phone up to your head and babble into it. You have a different intonation when you are "talking on the phone" and you don't like anyone to intrude. You could play "phone" probably for 10 to 15 minutes, but if an adult tries to hold it for you or keep you from say, calling 911, you really take offense to the intrusion of your constitutional right to play with a phone.
If there is a radio or remote or electronic signing pad at a store, you start "oh. Ohh. OHHhh"ing and motioning toward the device because the desire to talk on the phone never leaves you and everything else in the universe reminds you of this. You place your hand up to your face, fingers touching the bottom of your ear, and the heel of your palm near your chin, and cock your head slightly in the direction of your hand. The pantomime has to be recognized as your first "sign" and first consistently accurate form of communication: "I want that phone".
J: (signs for phone while looking at battery-less remote)
Mommy1: Here you go, that's your remote, but you can use it as a phone if you want
J: (Realizing the remote is busted and neither lights up nor beeps nor talks to him, signs for the phone again) Ohh, ohhh, OHHhhh
Mommy2: Yes that's a phone, good boy.
J: (Throwing non-phone down and signing phone while motioning for the camera)
M2: You can't have that
J: (Starting to get fired up)
M1: But honey, that's not a phone
J: (picks up the battery-less, remote-phone and starts babbling wildly like a tiny dictator phoning his top general or Dick Cheney consulting with his laywer) OHhhh oooooh, oooh-ahhhh, ahhhhh, ma-ma-ma. Ohhh-ooooh, oh-oooooh, oooh-owh, ah-ah-ah. La-la ooh-oh, ma-ma-ma
We can't get you to sign for anything except milk and phone, but your behavior on the "phone" reassures us that you are grasping larger concepts. This month, 1.5 weeks after we listed our house with a realtor, the economy started to crumble. As a disturbing form of comic relief, your mommies have thought it hysterical to voice over: SELL, SELL, SELL, SELL EVERYTHING. Whenever you go all "tiny-dictator" on the "phones".
Even though you are not walking, you are getting so mobile and maneuver yourself around quite effectively. You will stand for a few seconds at a time (up to about 30) and maybe a little longer if you are holding something like a ball or toy. Then when you realize that you are not holding on (say when you throw said toy) you get a little panicked look in your eye and bend your knees sinking down to the floor quietly. Not very adventurous a creature just yet.
You still love bathtime, and now stand naked at the side of the tub (with one of us right next to you) you bang on the side of the tub excitedly waiting. As the water runs, you try to find a way to get into the tub. Switching from right to left, you get your legs about 4/5ths of the way up the tub wall and sometimes get your toes just onto the top. You obviously can't get any of the leverage you need to get over the wall. It looks like a twitchy, pudgy gymnast warming up. But if the leg exercises go on too long without one of us putting you into the tub, you eventually look at us and shout: "AAAHHHHHHGH!!" Which seems to mean, "Don't just kneel there, HELP ME GET IN THE MOTHERLOVING TUB!"
As much as you love the tub, you have grown to resist the changing table. We don't know what this is all about as we think we are very gentle and loving towards you when you are on the table. We try to distract you, give you toys, make animal noises, etc. but the sessions nearly always end with you crying and me using a sugary sweet tone to say decidedly sarcastic things like, "I know, hard it must be to have to endure being dressed in this clean, soft, sweet smelling 100% cotton clothing item... you poor thing, the horrifying effects of all this love and affection."
For the most part, you are sleeping throught the night. You wake up and we help you find your binki, but just as it's been since early on, you really seem to understand what the night time if for. Even when we were waking up 2-4 times a night, it was just for a quick something. You never wanted to get up and play, and now is no different- that's what we call a "good baby" someone who seems to "get it". I mean throw a hissy fit every night on the changing table as we change you into the softest sleepers known to mankind, i don't care... but if you were the type of kid that decided 3am was your "playtime with mommies" and I'm not sure we would get along this well...
Twelve months has just whipped by, sweet boy. It has been the most gratifying, satisfying, I wouldn't-trade-all-those-sleepless- nights-for-anything-in-the-world year. We haven't changed because of you as much as become more who we know we were supposed to be since your arrival. Even though this is still new and even though an entire year has disappeared before our eyes, it doesn't seem like there was ever a time when you weren't here. We feel like we've been your mama and your mommy for all of our lives... for all of time.
Happy birthday, JB!
We love you with hearts overflowing.
Your mommies
Today you are ONE YEAR old!!!
We had a pretty huge party today, that is a good example of the kind of family you were born into. Lots of family, loads of friends, lots of love... You have extremely well intentioned mommies who maybe sometimes don't get the big picture until later. The main menu was chili. There was a white, chicken offering and a standard beef, tomato sauce option. I've been planning the food for weeks, but it occurred to me a few hours into the party that most little kids don't eat chili. Hmmm, well, let's be honest, the first birthday really isn't about you is it?
Your grannies have come for a visit and aside from allowing them to be at your party, the timing is fantastic because you seem on the brink of learning explosions in terms of (about to start) walking, communication, and recognition. Last week, you saw them on the computer and started clapping. You crawled over and put your face up to each of their faces on the screen, as if to hug them. Then you stood up by grasping the top of the imac and peered over the back of the monitor, looking for the rest of their bodies.
This month has a been a little different as your moms have made a big decision to put our house on the market. We are looking to move to decrease the amount of driving we all have been doing. So we are trying to pack some things up and de-clutter, and prepare to live in mental or physical limbo for a while. You are un-phased and luckily don't seem (at this tender age) to absorb the stress experienced around you. This might seem like a silly thing to comment on, but you come from a long line (both biologically and environmentally) of kin that can be affected by even the un-expressed stress of others. So we're relieved that you seem to be Mr. cool about external stressors; I guess that means we are doing a pretty good job shielding you from our anxieties.
Today at the party, you had cake for the first time. You didn't like the whipped cream on your hands and treated it like sand at the beach, trying to "shake" it off the minute you noticed the sensation of something "stuck" to your paws. It didn't occur to you to eat the whipped cream on your fingers until I introduced a small dollop to your mouth and forced you to taste it. Then you were more eager, but still never really tore into the cake we made for you to destroy. We had a clean outfit waiting, but you never got messy or dirty enough (even without a bib) and so you kept the same "Happy birthday to me" onsie on for the entire day.
You are eating 70% real food at this point: steak, ground beef, chicken, veggies, fruit, yogurt. We cut the stuff up into tiny little nibblets and you pincer-grasp or palm it in. You drink whole milk out of a sippy cup, and are down to about 2 bottles of formula a day. You like to feed yourself. If we have a spoon or fork out, you need to hold one too or else you cry, fuss, arch your back, and shake your head dramatically back and forth. So we do a modified eating do-si-do where you take a spoon or fork full and then we give you 2 to4 utensils full and then you forget about the fork and pick up the food for a little bit with the fingers of the hand that is not clutching the JB-spoon, and then we sneak a few more mouthfuls in with the mommy-spoon.
You definitely have a mind of your own and have preferences that are refreshingly innate. By that I mean, if we pay attention to your actions and likes/dislikes now, I think we'll see some that you have always had and will carry with you into adulthood. Example, you don't love shoes, but if your shoes are off, you will struggle and pull and contort yourself to get your socks off. You really don't like having socks on. You don't seem like hats or blankets that much either. People say, to us, "all kids are like that" and it's just not true. I've seen kids that keep their socks on, but you have earned the nick name, barefoot joe. The other night, I watched you tug at the feet of your sleeper, not understanding that they weren't socks but part of the outfit, and I was reminded of the infant JB- "Great Houdini", who wouldn't stay swaddled, no way, no how. You just don't seem to like being wrapped up or contained or covered. That's not to say that you don't like to cuddle or be cuddled. You are very snuggly and like to hug and kiss and put your head down on our shoulders and chests, but if you're not in the mood for that, everyone knows about it.
Another mannerism that we find adorable is how you sit with your feet crossed at the ankles. When you sleep either on your stomach or on your back you do this too. When I had that "scare" not able to feel you move for a few hours toward the end of my pregnancy, they did an ultrasound and you were sitting "like a Buddha" inside of me, ankles crossed over my cervix. It's a pretty mundane thing to mention, but it is decidedly "you". It seems to be your "zero" position, your default, resting, natural pose. I don't know why it's so cute. Something about your chubby, sock-less ankles crossed when you are playing, laughing, crying, talking on the phone, or sleeping makes me squint my eyes and recognize the old-man-soul that might be somehow already (at least partially) realized inside of you.
You are still (and I fear will forever be) obsessed with phones and anything electronic. You hold real phones, toy phones, and any other shaped object that has nothing to do with a phone up to your head and babble into it. You have a different intonation when you are "talking on the phone" and you don't like anyone to intrude. You could play "phone" probably for 10 to 15 minutes, but if an adult tries to hold it for you or keep you from say, calling 911, you really take offense to the intrusion of your constitutional right to play with a phone.
If there is a radio or remote or electronic signing pad at a store, you start "oh. Ohh. OHHhh"ing and motioning toward the device because the desire to talk on the phone never leaves you and everything else in the universe reminds you of this. You place your hand up to your face, fingers touching the bottom of your ear, and the heel of your palm near your chin, and cock your head slightly in the direction of your hand. The pantomime has to be recognized as your first "sign" and first consistently accurate form of communication: "I want that phone".
J: (signs for phone while looking at battery-less remote)
Mommy1: Here you go, that's your remote, but you can use it as a phone if you want
J: (Realizing the remote is busted and neither lights up nor beeps nor talks to him, signs for the phone again) Ohh, ohhh, OHHhhh
Mommy2: Yes that's a phone, good boy.
J: (Throwing non-phone down and signing phone while motioning for the camera)
M2: You can't have that
J: (Starting to get fired up)
M1: But honey, that's not a phone
J: (picks up the battery-less, remote-phone and starts babbling wildly like a tiny dictator phoning his top general or Dick Cheney consulting with his laywer) OHhhh oooooh, oooh-ahhhh, ahhhhh, ma-ma-ma. Ohhh-ooooh, oh-oooooh, oooh-owh, ah-ah-ah. La-la ooh-oh, ma-ma-ma
We can't get you to sign for anything except milk and phone, but your behavior on the "phone" reassures us that you are grasping larger concepts. This month, 1.5 weeks after we listed our house with a realtor, the economy started to crumble. As a disturbing form of comic relief, your mommies have thought it hysterical to voice over: SELL, SELL, SELL, SELL EVERYTHING. Whenever you go all "tiny-dictator" on the "phones".
Even though you are not walking, you are getting so mobile and maneuver yourself around quite effectively. You will stand for a few seconds at a time (up to about 30) and maybe a little longer if you are holding something like a ball or toy. Then when you realize that you are not holding on (say when you throw said toy) you get a little panicked look in your eye and bend your knees sinking down to the floor quietly. Not very adventurous a creature just yet.
You still love bathtime, and now stand naked at the side of the tub (with one of us right next to you) you bang on the side of the tub excitedly waiting. As the water runs, you try to find a way to get into the tub. Switching from right to left, you get your legs about 4/5ths of the way up the tub wall and sometimes get your toes just onto the top. You obviously can't get any of the leverage you need to get over the wall. It looks like a twitchy, pudgy gymnast warming up. But if the leg exercises go on too long without one of us putting you into the tub, you eventually look at us and shout: "AAAHHHHHHGH!!" Which seems to mean, "Don't just kneel there, HELP ME GET IN THE MOTHERLOVING TUB!"
As much as you love the tub, you have grown to resist the changing table. We don't know what this is all about as we think we are very gentle and loving towards you when you are on the table. We try to distract you, give you toys, make animal noises, etc. but the sessions nearly always end with you crying and me using a sugary sweet tone to say decidedly sarcastic things like, "I know, hard it must be to have to endure being dressed in this clean, soft, sweet smelling 100% cotton clothing item... you poor thing, the horrifying effects of all this love and affection."
For the most part, you are sleeping throught the night. You wake up and we help you find your binki, but just as it's been since early on, you really seem to understand what the night time if for. Even when we were waking up 2-4 times a night, it was just for a quick something. You never wanted to get up and play, and now is no different- that's what we call a "good baby" someone who seems to "get it". I mean throw a hissy fit every night on the changing table as we change you into the softest sleepers known to mankind, i don't care... but if you were the type of kid that decided 3am was your "playtime with mommies" and I'm not sure we would get along this well...
Twelve months has just whipped by, sweet boy. It has been the most gratifying, satisfying, I wouldn't-trade-all-those-sleepless- nights-for-anything-in-the-world year. We haven't changed because of you as much as become more who we know we were supposed to be since your arrival. Even though this is still new and even though an entire year has disappeared before our eyes, it doesn't seem like there was ever a time when you weren't here. We feel like we've been your mama and your mommy for all of our lives... for all of time.
Happy birthday, JB!
We love you with hearts overflowing.
Your mommies
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Plotting to leave the neighborhood
We put our house on the market.
There are a lot of really exciting things about that and a few really sad things. Our friends here in Town-that-thinks-it's-a-city are some of our closest. It is ironic that we are planning a move back to the town that I grew up in, but my oldest, closest friend lives right here in Town-that-thinks-it's-a-city. There is considerably more "diversity" and "culture" here that we are leaving behind (aka- gays and yummy restaurants). But the decision was based mainly on a daily work commute that has become unacceptable to both of the adults in our house. "Decreasing our carbon footprint" has entered into the discussion as has the conversion of some of that wasted time on the highway into some semblance of a daily cardiovascular workout.
Now that the decision has been made, I am less anguished (less afraid it might be a wrong decision) and more EX-cited about the actual moving (I love moving!) and also the end result (less driving everyday).
Our lawn obsessed, (formerly) nicotine-addicted neighbors asked us a six weeks ago if we minded if they mowed our lawn and power-washed our house. They posed the question to Katy who does more of the laundry and dishes than the yard maintenance type work around here. I'm sure I would have gotten offended, defensive, and huffily refused the unsolicited "favor". In the way of an explaination, you need to understand a few blue-collar fears were ingrained in me early on: 1) ownership is 9/10 of the law - if people encroach on your space, they are probably trying to take it and 2) Liability, liability, liability... if people get hurt on your property, they will leave you bankrupt and property-less.
But katy responded to the neighbor in a SarahPalin-esque non-blink:
"Knock yourself out," she told them.
Their rationale was as telling as the request: "We're putting our house on the market." Apparently, the small amounts of mildew on the siding on the back of our house (please recall, I powerwashed the thing myself a season ago when i was 8 months pregnant and prepping for kate-a-palooza) and our lawn (admittedly, I keep it about 1/2 inch longer than theirs as a rule) was at serious risk for decreasing the value of their property. (Comparison has been noted on this blog in the past.)
What surprised me even more than the announcement that they had bought a home in North Carolina and were moving, and then even more than the "If you can't keep a home (and a yard) as we do than we'll just keep it for you" self-enslavement, was the fact that they maintained the every-other day lawn service until this past week. I'm not exaggerating, it was at least every other day... our lawn never even approached a length that my conscience would allow me to burn gasoline to trim it.
Before you get all, "these people sound really reasonable," you should know they readily admitted to us that they have been calling the town on the neighbors across the street and they are "about to be fined" because the paint job on their home is unacceptable. I guess it is unintuitive (to me) obnoxiousness like this that keeps our property values in good standing, but I've never really thought about "telling" on someone to the town if their house makes them look like they are a little down on their luck. The cats and the inhabitants of that house (not to mention the gutters and paint job) have led to kt and I referring to that place as "the group home" since shortly after we moved in. But the truth is, I've always taken some silent comfort int he fact that because of the group home, there is no one that could point to my house and say, "Them!" Unless they were talking about how hot we are or the fact that we pretty much forget we are G.A.A. and kiss through a greeting in the driveway every morning and evening.
The good news: LO(F)NA neighbors sold their house after only 8 days on the market at about 30K more than we bought our place for. So, we feel confident as we approach the sale of the property that we won't lose money on our house.
There are a lot of really exciting things about that and a few really sad things. Our friends here in Town-that-thinks-it's-a-city are some of our closest. It is ironic that we are planning a move back to the town that I grew up in, but my oldest, closest friend lives right here in Town-that-thinks-it's-a-city. There is considerably more "diversity" and "culture" here that we are leaving behind (aka- gays and yummy restaurants). But the decision was based mainly on a daily work commute that has become unacceptable to both of the adults in our house. "Decreasing our carbon footprint" has entered into the discussion as has the conversion of some of that wasted time on the highway into some semblance of a daily cardiovascular workout.
Now that the decision has been made, I am less anguished (less afraid it might be a wrong decision) and more EX-cited about the actual moving (I love moving!) and also the end result (less driving everyday).
Our lawn obsessed, (formerly) nicotine-addicted neighbors asked us a six weeks ago if we minded if they mowed our lawn and power-washed our house. They posed the question to Katy who does more of the laundry and dishes than the yard maintenance type work around here. I'm sure I would have gotten offended, defensive, and huffily refused the unsolicited "favor". In the way of an explaination, you need to understand a few blue-collar fears were ingrained in me early on: 1) ownership is 9/10 of the law - if people encroach on your space, they are probably trying to take it and 2) Liability, liability, liability... if people get hurt on your property, they will leave you bankrupt and property-less.
But katy responded to the neighbor in a SarahPalin-esque non-blink:
"Knock yourself out," she told them.
Their rationale was as telling as the request: "We're putting our house on the market." Apparently, the small amounts of mildew on the siding on the back of our house (please recall, I powerwashed the thing myself a season ago when i was 8 months pregnant and prepping for kate-a-palooza) and our lawn (admittedly, I keep it about 1/2 inch longer than theirs as a rule) was at serious risk for decreasing the value of their property. (Comparison has been noted on this blog in the past.)
What surprised me even more than the announcement that they had bought a home in North Carolina and were moving, and then even more than the "If you can't keep a home (and a yard) as we do than we'll just keep it for you" self-enslavement, was the fact that they maintained the every-other day lawn service until this past week. I'm not exaggerating, it was at least every other day... our lawn never even approached a length that my conscience would allow me to burn gasoline to trim it.
Before you get all, "these people sound really reasonable," you should know they readily admitted to us that they have been calling the town on the neighbors across the street and they are "about to be fined" because the paint job on their home is unacceptable. I guess it is unintuitive (to me) obnoxiousness like this that keeps our property values in good standing, but I've never really thought about "telling" on someone to the town if their house makes them look like they are a little down on their luck. The cats and the inhabitants of that house (not to mention the gutters and paint job) have led to kt and I referring to that place as "the group home" since shortly after we moved in. But the truth is, I've always taken some silent comfort int he fact that because of the group home, there is no one that could point to my house and say, "Them!" Unless they were talking about how hot we are or the fact that we pretty much forget we are G.A.A. and kiss through a greeting in the driveway every morning and evening.
The good news: LO(F)NA neighbors sold their house after only 8 days on the market at about 30K more than we bought our place for. So, we feel confident as we approach the sale of the property that we won't lose money on our house.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Hissy fit #927
They are changing the kid's schedule at day care. To move into the one year old room, they need to take only one nap per day and eat once with 2 "snacks". For three days now JB's done it. They "keep him awake" through his normal AM nap and then put him down after an 11am lunch. He sleeps from about 11:30 until 2pm.
Tonight, after a get-home-at-6pm-and-immediately-eat dinner, JB played for about 15 minutes and then crawled up the stairs into the bathroom, with me chasing right behind.
It almost seemed like a "PUT.ME.IN.THE.TUB.RIGHT.NOW." march, but he made a detour to play "open-and-close" with doors and drawers in the vanity. He doesn't understand about handles and slammed his knuckles several times without any yelps or hint that he'd experienced a modicum of pain.
When I put him in the tub, he grew very upset with me for stopping him from pouring water down his own mouth. I was merely attempting to prevent the subsequent cascade of coughing and choking. And so i distracted him with a toothbrush for his 2 enormous top teeth and his two tiny bottom ones. He liked this and "brushed" for a few minutes and then began to brush the toys and the tub, etc. All hell broke loose when I tried to get the dang toothbrush back. He screamed and cried until I took him out of the tub; throughout the dressing and diapering procedures; until he got a few sips of milk and demanded with his slumped-over head to be put into his crib.
I imagine it was at that toothbrush-extracting moment in the tub that the exhaustion of the day overtook him and he just broke down, but I swear it looked for all the world like he thought he was in charge around here.
Tonight, after a get-home-at-6pm-and-immediately-eat dinner, JB played for about 15 minutes and then crawled up the stairs into the bathroom, with me chasing right behind.
It almost seemed like a "PUT.ME.IN.THE.TUB.RIGHT.NOW." march, but he made a detour to play "open-and-close" with doors and drawers in the vanity. He doesn't understand about handles and slammed his knuckles several times without any yelps or hint that he'd experienced a modicum of pain.
When I put him in the tub, he grew very upset with me for stopping him from pouring water down his own mouth. I was merely attempting to prevent the subsequent cascade of coughing and choking. And so i distracted him with a toothbrush for his 2 enormous top teeth and his two tiny bottom ones. He liked this and "brushed" for a few minutes and then began to brush the toys and the tub, etc. All hell broke loose when I tried to get the dang toothbrush back. He screamed and cried until I took him out of the tub; throughout the dressing and diapering procedures; until he got a few sips of milk and demanded with his slumped-over head to be put into his crib.
I imagine it was at that toothbrush-extracting moment in the tub that the exhaustion of the day overtook him and he just broke down, but I swear it looked for all the world like he thought he was in charge around here.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Babysitting
Last night, Nana and I picked up the girls, fed them, and put them to bed because Mommy was out of town, and Daddy was working late. The babies (JB and Cam) went down first, and Mac was very sweet and listening well as I was trying to get her to bed without any crying or screaming that would wake the kids.
"Let's go brush your teeth," I whispered
"Okay." she responded quietly. We put tooth gel on her brush and she brushed for about 30 seconds and then offered me the brush, "Your turn."
"My turn?" I took the brush and pretended to polish my pearly whites.
"No silly," Mac giggled, "You brush my teeth, TT."
"Oh." I was glad I was awake enough to not have actually put the brush in my mouth! It was a page out of Amelia Bedelia.
"Let's go brush your teeth," I whispered
"Okay." she responded quietly. We put tooth gel on her brush and she brushed for about 30 seconds and then offered me the brush, "Your turn."
"My turn?" I took the brush and pretended to polish my pearly whites.
"No silly," Mac giggled, "You brush my teeth, TT."
"Oh." I was glad I was awake enough to not have actually put the brush in my mouth! It was a page out of Amelia Bedelia.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
I'm Jean Valjean and I approved this message...
Perfection.
Back in the day, I was intensely addicted to Les Miserables. I feel like this video is where the past intersects with the future. :)
(hat tip: Joe)
Blog post title also "borrowed" from Joe.
The terrible "Ones"???
JB has turned a corner...
Our little contented angel is gone. He's showing all the signs of stubborn defiance, irrational opinions, and frustrated contempt.
He's developed a 6th sense for the forbidden:
He won't stay seated in the tub.
He'll scale a mountain of toys to get to the only dangerous thing in a 11 x 11 foot room.
He will jump and flail about on the changing table if you have the audacity to attempt to clean his ass.
He will scream, arch his back and missile launch the sippy cup at you if you dare to offer him milk at the wrong moment- when he isn't interested.
Yesterday, he teased me all morning by refusing to acknowledge me. He screeched when I tried to touch him or pick him up. He reached, cried and whined only wanting Katy to hold him.
Last night, after almost giving himself a concussion in the tub and throwing a hissy fit because I wouldn't let him play with the drain or the hot water faucet, he screaming all the way thru the injustice of having to get changed into soft, cotton pajamas. When I was just-about-ALL-DONE with his nonsense, he sucked down a bottle, whimpered in contentment, and waved good night to the animals in his room...
He only let's us see him wave if we've been really, really good...
It's another example of how he has us by the (non-existent) balls,
but it's adorable.
Our little contented angel is gone. He's showing all the signs of stubborn defiance, irrational opinions, and frustrated contempt.
He's developed a 6th sense for the forbidden:
He won't stay seated in the tub.
He'll scale a mountain of toys to get to the only dangerous thing in a 11 x 11 foot room.
He will jump and flail about on the changing table if you have the audacity to attempt to clean his ass.
He will scream, arch his back and missile launch the sippy cup at you if you dare to offer him milk at the wrong moment- when he isn't interested.
Yesterday, he teased me all morning by refusing to acknowledge me. He screeched when I tried to touch him or pick him up. He reached, cried and whined only wanting Katy to hold him.
Last night, after almost giving himself a concussion in the tub and throwing a hissy fit because I wouldn't let him play with the drain or the hot water faucet, he screaming all the way thru the injustice of having to get changed into soft, cotton pajamas. When I was just-about-ALL-DONE with his nonsense, he sucked down a bottle, whimpered in contentment, and waved good night to the animals in his room...
He only let's us see him wave if we've been really, really good...
It's another example of how he has us by the (non-existent) balls,
but it's adorable.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Eggs-zosted
It's nearly 11pm and I am wiped out.
I haven't blogged in a bit because I've been reading a lot: Blogs, magazines, papers, and I've read 6 books since vacation. I know that doesn't sound like much, but I am a serious reader, often reading 3 or 4 books at a time and since the baby was born, i've found it difficult to focus or care about books... Don't get me wrong, I'm not reading anything too heavy, but it's all I can do to get my part of the family chores done, try to watch my bff, Rachel Maddow, during the first week of her new show, and "rush" back to a few pages of my book(s) before I fall asleep.
This week has been silly nuts.
Last weekend was a rain-out... 3 parties all canceled for hurricane residuals that never really arrived. Katy and I worked hard around the house, cleaning dresser drawers and organizing the attic; and we enjoyed the boy. He is very into hugging and laughing right now, when he is not biting, poking eyes, throwing food, yelling nonsensical words, and whining to get his (I'm-not-at-all-clear-whatthefuck-you-are trying-to-say) point across.
Tuesday brought a call from day care: "He's been screaming for an hour, tugging on his right ear, inconsolable, not at all like him..." Oh, that again?
Katy picked him up and brought him for an ear check. Yes, fluid. Yes bulging of the eardrum. But let's wait 48 hours and see what happens without antibiotics.
FINE with the mommies! We hate the 10 days of pink shit getting spit back out at us twice a day.
I brought JB back today and Dr. Filibuster (he's super friendly and kind but talks a lot) was happy we held off for now: Left ear much better. Right ear still with some fluid that seems to be getting a little more viscous, but improved from tuesday... blah, blah, blah.
You would never know that jb is "sick". There is no fever and only a slight decrease in his happy-dude-persona. Except there is the crying at night thing... For the last week or so, he's been waking a few times a night crying. Not waking and then crying, but just crying. Crying in his sleep, or crying so hard that he wakes himself. What is it? Pain? gas? teeth? ears? WHY THE HELL ARE YOU CRYING YOURSELF AWAKE TWICE A NIGHT?!?
Oh, sorry for the outburst, but I think these mid-night crying jags are contributing to the eggs-zosted-ness I am feeling.
A few more things that need more time than I am willing to put into them right now:
1) Sarah Palin - wtf?
2) We have decided to put our house on the market and move to Mid-point, town of my childhood. The decision making process went something like this:
March
K: If you are this stressed at your job, maybe you should look for a new one.
April
K: When are you going to start looking for a new job? I'm sick of all of this driving and you leaving the house at 7am never getting home before 6 or 7pm.
June
T: I can't decide if I hate my job or I hate the commute...
K: Why don't you change both?
July
T: I can't wait for vacation...
Last week
K: You need to quit your job and find one closer to home.
T: I'm not going to quit my job. It's a good job, I don't know what else I might want to do. I'm comfortable and have gained enough tenure and credibility to tinker with my schedule if I need-
K: Okay, then we are moving to Mid-point. This situation is no longer acceptable.
T: (thinking she means move maybe next spring) okay, sounds good.
Katy opens the hall closet and a realtor falls out, dropping the glass she had sandwiched between her ear and the door, and picking up a sign to plant in the front yard...
This is only a slight exaggeration. The house isn't listed, but my wife has made up her mind and our friends who are a mortgage broker and a realtor are involved. We have a little work to do this weekend on our house and we have already started looking at places to buy which is probably a mistake b/c it is not a great idea to risk "falling in love" with a place that might be gone before you can even place a bid (because your house is not even listed.) More on that as it develops...
3) Our yard-obsessed neighbors have been mowing our lawn for the last 4 weeks- ask me about it... The story is hilarity...
4) 15 minutes of fame- extended remix... Tonight we were interviewed by a crew that work for some Italian news show. I don't' know the name, but it is (allegedly) the "20/20 of Italy." They have a 15 minute segment about some aspect of American culture, and this week it's "the gays" and our marriage problems... They tracked us down after reading about us in the NYT. It was kind of different from the documentary. There were strangers in our house, big lights in our living room, extension cords running to various rooms, body mics, etc.
They were very nice and we think it went well... Will give more info when we have it.
5) Ellen and Portia. Since we are talking about marriage, I have a confession to make... Last night, (when maybe I should have been posting, or sleeping) I wrote an email to Ellen DeGeneres- thanking her for her humble, generous willingness to be out and open at various stages of her life. Unlike many celebrities, or celebrities, I believe this woman has done more to change the world and make "our people" safe and more accepted than any civil rights legislation could. I mean, look at this video:
Is there anything that seems as sweet and normal and healthy as these two getting hitched?
I love her! More, really, I admire her and feel indebted to her... She's used her fame as an opportunity to be honest and unapologetic, without taking herself too seriously.
I haven't blogged in a bit because I've been reading a lot: Blogs, magazines, papers, and I've read 6 books since vacation. I know that doesn't sound like much, but I am a serious reader, often reading 3 or 4 books at a time and since the baby was born, i've found it difficult to focus or care about books... Don't get me wrong, I'm not reading anything too heavy, but it's all I can do to get my part of the family chores done, try to watch my bff, Rachel Maddow, during the first week of her new show, and "rush" back to a few pages of my book(s) before I fall asleep.
This week has been silly nuts.
Last weekend was a rain-out... 3 parties all canceled for hurricane residuals that never really arrived. Katy and I worked hard around the house, cleaning dresser drawers and organizing the attic; and we enjoyed the boy. He is very into hugging and laughing right now, when he is not biting, poking eyes, throwing food, yelling nonsensical words, and whining to get his (I'm-not-at-all-clear-whatthefuck-you-are trying-to-say) point across.
Tuesday brought a call from day care: "He's been screaming for an hour, tugging on his right ear, inconsolable, not at all like him..." Oh, that again?
Katy picked him up and brought him for an ear check. Yes, fluid. Yes bulging of the eardrum. But let's wait 48 hours and see what happens without antibiotics.
FINE with the mommies! We hate the 10 days of pink shit getting spit back out at us twice a day.
I brought JB back today and Dr. Filibuster (he's super friendly and kind but talks a lot) was happy we held off for now: Left ear much better. Right ear still with some fluid that seems to be getting a little more viscous, but improved from tuesday... blah, blah, blah.
You would never know that jb is "sick". There is no fever and only a slight decrease in his happy-dude-persona. Except there is the crying at night thing... For the last week or so, he's been waking a few times a night crying. Not waking and then crying, but just crying. Crying in his sleep, or crying so hard that he wakes himself. What is it? Pain? gas? teeth? ears? WHY THE HELL ARE YOU CRYING YOURSELF AWAKE TWICE A NIGHT?!?
Oh, sorry for the outburst, but I think these mid-night crying jags are contributing to the eggs-zosted-ness I am feeling.
A few more things that need more time than I am willing to put into them right now:
1) Sarah Palin - wtf?
2) We have decided to put our house on the market and move to Mid-point, town of my childhood. The decision making process went something like this:
March
K: If you are this stressed at your job, maybe you should look for a new one.
April
K: When are you going to start looking for a new job? I'm sick of all of this driving and you leaving the house at 7am never getting home before 6 or 7pm.
June
T: I can't decide if I hate my job or I hate the commute...
K: Why don't you change both?
July
T: I can't wait for vacation...
Last week
K: You need to quit your job and find one closer to home.
T: I'm not going to quit my job. It's a good job, I don't know what else I might want to do. I'm comfortable and have gained enough tenure and credibility to tinker with my schedule if I need-
K: Okay, then we are moving to Mid-point. This situation is no longer acceptable.
T: (thinking she means move maybe next spring) okay, sounds good.
Katy opens the hall closet and a realtor falls out, dropping the glass she had sandwiched between her ear and the door, and picking up a sign to plant in the front yard...
This is only a slight exaggeration. The house isn't listed, but my wife has made up her mind and our friends who are a mortgage broker and a realtor are involved. We have a little work to do this weekend on our house and we have already started looking at places to buy which is probably a mistake b/c it is not a great idea to risk "falling in love" with a place that might be gone before you can even place a bid (because your house is not even listed.) More on that as it develops...
3) Our yard-obsessed neighbors have been mowing our lawn for the last 4 weeks- ask me about it... The story is hilarity...
4) 15 minutes of fame- extended remix... Tonight we were interviewed by a crew that work for some Italian news show. I don't' know the name, but it is (allegedly) the "20/20 of Italy." They have a 15 minute segment about some aspect of American culture, and this week it's "the gays" and our marriage problems... They tracked us down after reading about us in the NYT. It was kind of different from the documentary. There were strangers in our house, big lights in our living room, extension cords running to various rooms, body mics, etc.
They were very nice and we think it went well... Will give more info when we have it.
5) Ellen and Portia. Since we are talking about marriage, I have a confession to make... Last night, (when maybe I should have been posting, or sleeping) I wrote an email to Ellen DeGeneres- thanking her for her humble, generous willingness to be out and open at various stages of her life. Unlike many celebrities, or celebrities, I believe this woman has done more to change the world and make "our people" safe and more accepted than any civil rights legislation could. I mean, look at this video:
Is there anything that seems as sweet and normal and healthy as these two getting hitched?
I love her! More, really, I admire her and feel indebted to her... She's used her fame as an opportunity to be honest and unapologetic, without taking herself too seriously.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Weekend
We had such a nice weekend.
2 major events we were to attend were rained out and we did a lot of work around the house and spent a lot of time together.
JB climbed up a fight of stairs for the first time.
He "pretended" to share some imaginary "things" with his mommies.
He laughed and laughed and took good naps.
We played in the rain a little and that was a blast.
2 major events we were to attend were rained out and we did a lot of work around the house and spent a lot of time together.
JB climbed up a fight of stairs for the first time.
He "pretended" to share some imaginary "things" with his mommies.
He laughed and laughed and took good naps.
We played in the rain a little and that was a blast.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Corn and corn pot
Sorry that you'll probably see some of these in a newsletter... they were too cute to wait.
First you grow and pick the corn...
Then you find a pot to cook it in...
Who me? Spill your iced coffee?
I don't know what you're talking about...
First you grow and pick the corn...
Then you find a pot to cook it in...
Who me? Spill your iced coffee?
I don't know what you're talking about...
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Let's go polar bear hunting
Hilarious...
"How did you get my number? I only hand it out to people i've met more than twice"
"...the guard who used to shock my pee hole every tuesday"
"I'm gonna put a smile on, look real pretty, talk about being a hockey mom and...Take this shit home"
Hahahahahahahhahahha... Greatest spoof I've seen in a while
The thing that sends a shiver down my spine is that I think i trust her more than John McCain. Not "trust her" with my civil rights or my children/ nieces' futures or anything, just trust that she is what she says she is... or rather that she says what she thinks she is.
I miss the DNC- need my "hope" fix...
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