Halloween and a Haircut

Happy Halloween, y'all.

Now, as we know, I am not a Happy Halloween kind of girl. But apparently everyone else is.

Case in point, Whimsy sent the Boy this adorable Halloweeny set of feetie pajamas.

The Aunty-in-law sent the bib. Apparently it is requisite that children be dressed up for Halloween as well as gorge themselves on candy and the like.

Now, this time last year, I was getting a very weird phone call. This year, I settled for a haircut.

I know. It's still wet and you can't really tell what it looks like but it's a good 5 inches shorter and it's up off my neck and out of the Boy's reach and that's what counts.

Now if you'll excuse me I have a mess (not of my own making) that I have to go and clean up...Boy, stop spleening me!

Gestures

So, I know that I've said it a lot--the Husband is not romantic.

I was thinking about this this morning because the Husband decided at 7am that he needed to sleep in, so I got up with the Boy and let him sleep a bit. And my conclusion, he's not conventionally romantic.

Once I started looking for them, I found romantic gestures all over the place. So I've decided that once a week I shall spotlight one of the Husband's romantic gestures and you can all go home and hug and smooch your sweethearts alight in the glow of love.

This week's romantic gesture? He bought me fizzy drinks.

Normally, we have a carbonation-free household. It's not for any good reason, it saves money and if it's in the house it's all I drink and what is best for me is water...so, no carbonation.

But! When I get sick I have a really hard time drinking water--it tastes like mucus and grosses me out, so the result is that I don't drink that much and what I need is fluids. So last night, we went to Sams to buy milk and on the way home he stopped so that we could buy some fizzy drinks. Isn't he sweet?

Now for all of you lovely people, go and do something unconventional for the one you love.

Tuesday Morning

Update: I am still sick.

It's just WRONG. The Husband comes home Thursday night, says he's feeling a bit off, takes 2 Tylenol and wakes up fine on Friday morning. I go to be Saturday night, wake up at midnight feeling like DEATH, take 2 Tylenol and keep taking them for days on end. It's now Tuesday and I am still sick. HATE.

The Boy appears to be fine. Also has no interest whatsoever in napping. KILL ME NOW.

Speaking of boys. I knew I was in for it--being the mother of a wee laddie, my sister has 3 boys and I have closely observed her tribulations for years--and then I read this post by Jana over at the Meanest Mom. The Husband keeps shaking his head at me because lately--during bath time--I suds up the Boy and shake my head saying, "I don't know how you guys walk around with those things." His response is typical: "Pretty easily, actually."

And I have nothing further to add on this post by the Krista because when I read it (and I've read it 3 times now) I want to laugh but then I think of the Boy actually doing these things and I need to go and lie down.

Sunday Afternoon

You know what's worse than being sick when you're nursing? Being sick when you're nursing with a cold that the Husband lovingly brought home and shared.

Niiiiiiiiiiice, huh?

Anyway, I'm sitting in the floor of the Boy's room and I was rocking him to sleep for what feels like the frillionth time and thinking about motherhood, so if you'll all indulge me--and if it's too much for you just blame the slight fever I've had all day.

So, I'm rocking the Boy who starts out wide wake, in his drooly pajamas from last night (because I am sick and the Husband sees no point in putting him in clean clothes when he's just going to drool all over them anyway) and he's all snug in his super soft car blanket with his pacifier in his mouth, eyes wide open and we're rocking away and I'm looking at his little face and thinking how he's growing and changing and Heaven be Merciful, he's starting to have a hint of little boy about him and not so much baby and I'm thinking how odd it is to be a mother.

After all, it's my job to keep him fed and healthy and clothed and reasonably content. But it's also my job to remember what his face looks like at every stage. It's my job to remember how soft his skin is and how he likes to be rocked to sleep. I need to remember his different laughs and what makes him crack up. I need to remember all the weird things we tried to calm him like sitting him in the bouncy seat on elevated surfaces (like the table or the bed--the kid loves to be tall) or how he loved to hang upside down off of the couch like a bat.

And someday he will come to me and want to know all of the names that the Husband and I called him when he was small and it will be my job to say, Stinker, Boy, Son, Little Love, Mon Petit Prince, Moy Malenkii, Moy Ciin, Mon Petit Fils, Pooper, Droolmeister, Puddles, Cameron-Man, I-Love-This-Boy, Cameron-Stop-Spleening-Me, Why-Won't-You-Sleep, Little Wrinkle, but mostly The Dude.

I'm watching his eyelids droop and pop open, droop and pop open and hoping that I remember all the things I love about every age so that someday when he asks me to tell him stories about when he was little I have plenty of happy, funny, quirky things to tell him and not just how I judged a good day from a bad day by the number of onesies he went through, or how long his naps were.

I think I need more Tylenol. Also probably more water and a nap.

I know it's terribly morbid and melancholy of me but I find myself picking up the Boy and holding him and rocking him and thinking how quickly the time is passing. He's getting so big so fast that I almost feel like he's leaving me behind. All of this melancholy is compounded by the fact that in all rationality I just didn't like being a mother so much, not at first, when I was sore from being cut open and he was crying crying crying all of the time. And now that I'm arriving at a place where I like being a mother, he's growing so fast that it almost feels like I won't really have time to enjoy it before he's out the door and on with the rest of his life.

I know. I'm over-reacting, I'm descending posthaste into sentimentality, I really need to go take that Tylenol and lay down. I need to go kiss my boy one more time while he's too small to run away.

What Worked

Thanks for the comments/suggestions. I only got one that was somewhat smarmy (though, I'm willing to believe it was well-intentioned) and it was summarily deleted.

So the Boy slept through the night again last night and here's what worked. (Sorry, Sarah! Um, growth spurt? With James? Too much excitement in your house? It'll get better, you have great kids!)

New (thicker!) pajamas with socks and a onesie underneath and double weight flannel. He started off in a hat but he had done away with that after a couple of hours.

Also the Husband turned up the heat a notch. It's still a brisk 65 degrees in the apartment (as opposed to the 60 that we are content to keep it) but it's better than nothing.

Incidentally, Target has some of the cutest pajamas I've found anywhere. They're heavier cotton than Gerber's and they're reasonably priced. I bought 3 sets last night that are so cute that I want to wear them.

Flukes

Well, turns out that Miracle of the Day was just a fluke. It's no big deal, it--like most miracles--was totally unexpected and provided just enough of a reprieve to give me a flicker of light at the end of a very long tunnel of sleeplessness.

The Boy is back to getting up at least once and in the case of last night twice during the night. I think he's still cold, when I changed him at 2am he had goosebumps straight out of the swaddling and he was in a onesie and feetie pajamas.

So I'm sending out an SOS for ideas on how to keep this Boy warm. I've talked to the Husband about turning the heat UP (we've already turned it ON). I've thought about putting a flannel blanket UNDER his pack and play sheet and then swaddling him in double weight flannel. I've thought about FLEECE pajamas (he only has 1 pair, but we could get more) and THEN the swaddling in double weight flannel. I've even thought maybe if I slap some socks and a hat on him and THEN his pajamas and THEN the swaddling maybe THAT would be enough. The thing is, we're trying NOT to have a catastrophic electricity bill so turning the heat UP is going to be our If All Else Fails measure--I least that's my guess based on 4 years of living with the Husband (aka Ebeneezer--about certain things).

And now to cast a humorous light on this otherwise perplexing situation, I give you Dickens. (Dudes, I CAN'T wait to read this to the Boy this year!)

"Scrooge had a very small fire, but the clerk's fire was so very much smaller that it looked like one coal. But he couldn't replenish it, for Scrooge kept the coal-box in his own room; and so surely as the clerk came in with the shovel, the master predicted that it would be necessary for them to part. Wherefore the clerk put on his white comforter, and tried to warm himself at the candle; in which effort, not being a man of strong imagination, he failed."

Miracle of the Day

So, I may have mentioned this before, but I cannot remember just now because I am all a-dither with excitement.

Once upon a time, the Husband and I were visiting la familia in Savannah and the FIL was flipping through the TV channels and happened upon a televangelist who was talking (in all caps) about how you have to EXPECT THE MIRACLE! BECAUSE MIRACLES ARE HAPPENING EVERYDAY SO IF YOU EXPECT THE MIRACLE THEN YOU WILL RECEIVE!!!

Dudes. The Boy SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT!!!!

Here's the longer story.

Remember how I am a DUMB Mom? Yeah, well, she strikes again. I'm over it at this point. I consider it a miracle we even had a child, AND kept him alive this long...so my mistakes, yeah, they're just to be EXPECTED if you know what I mean.

My lovely friend, Sarah, was extolling the virtues of having Summer babies to me when I was bemoaning the fact that I would be 9 months pregnant in JULY in THE SOUTH, and she was all, "It's GREAT!!! All you need is a t-shirt and a diaper! No coats! No fleecies! No snowsuits!" And she was very very correct. It was brilliant! Especially at the end of the day when he was all Spit-up-Stinktastic and I could strip him down to just his diaper and give him a quick wipes bath. But alas, the Summer, it has ended.

Now, the Husband and I, we love us some Fall weather. We crack the doors and windows and we bask in the cool (i.e. COLD) fresh air. And lo, we are CHEAP so we don't turn the heat on in our apartment until it becomes FRIGID (i.e. weeks BELOW freezing). So, I was a bit baffled when our lovely Boy who had been getting only up once a night started getting up every 3-4 hours (and sometimes every 2)! He's grown out of his lovely layette gowns and into his full-on FEETY pajamas, and we would swaddle him up in a single piece of flannel every night.

It has sort of maybe got down below 40 the past week of nights when he was waking up every 2-3 hours...and it only just occured to me Sunday night, that...um...well, maybe he was a bit cold. I'm no genius here, but when I get up the 4th time with my wee Boy and his hands feel like ICE, it might be a sign that feety pajamas and a single weight flannel are just not sufficent to keep him warm.

Last night I filled him fully of delicious Mama-Cream, situated him in his feety pajamas and swaddled him up tight in a DOUBLE weight flannel blanket and lo, HE SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT. 7 PM to 6:30 AM. Needless to say I have covered his face with kisses!

We just won't think about the kind of leaking or PAIN which occured in Bed Sweet Bed because of the Boy's neglect because OH THE JOY, HE SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT!!!

Now you! What's your miracle of the day?

One More for the Road

Kristin tagged me. And she said I didn't have to do it, but just to show that the Meme GAMES apply to everyone, Whimsy, I'm a-talkin' to YOU, yo, I'm doing it anyway.

Here we go...7 weird things about me:

Right, I've done this one before!


And the Wife trots off for a bowl of ice cream, laughing maniacally as she goes!

Photo-Tagged

Well, now...Sarah over at Los Bradley's tagged me and since I am drowning in laundry and this required very little thought from me, I thought I would go ahead and post it. So, here you go...

1. What am I doing right now?

Well, the real answer is multitasking, but here's what I came up with...

Um, self-explanatory...I am drowning in laundry.

Also, self-explanatory...I'm blogging.

2. My age.

I have reached that age where I prefer not to say.

3. First name.

Again, this being the internet I prefer not to say.
Those of you who know, know and I feel no need to say again...

4. Middle Name...

No harm in admitting...

Hint...it's not Roberta.

5. Last name.

See answer to question 3.

Hint. It's not Roberts.

6. Maiden Name.

Are you kidding me?

Hint. It's not Pipe or Book. But this is a picture of my dad.

7. Favorite food.

Indian food...NOM NOM NOM.

Of course I've been too scared to attempt to ingest this whilst nursing, my kid spits up constantly anyway no matter what I eat, I'd just as soon not have projectile spit up.


8. Bad habit.

Insomnia. GAH!


9. Past pet.

I've had several cats...let me pick one.

I had a black cat that we had so cleverly named Cat. Man, I loved that cat. She lived 16 years and then left me to go and die. I cried for DAYS over that cat.

10. Grandma's name.

My Father's Mom is:

And my Mother's Mom is:


11. Past love...

Hmmm, this one is a hard one. I'll go with:

12. First Job.


13. Favorite place...

Bed Sweet Bed


14. If I went back to school...

In Comparative Literature, natch.

15. If I could visit any place in the world...

Although, right now I'd settle for anywhere without the ginormous pile of laundry I have to do today.

So, here are the directions:

Directions:
1. Go to Google
2. Do an Image search for your answer to each question
3. Pick a picture off the first page of images that best answers the question.

And I'm a-taggin' Katrina, Whimsy and Samwise. Go!

Wartime News

As many of you know we are currently under siege during yet another Epic Battle of Wills.

I thought you would all appreciate an update from the War front.

The Boy seems to understand the concept of a bedtime. As well as a wake-up time. In fact with a few exceptions he has them down pat. Almost like a fussy little alarm clock.

But the idea of napping at a set point during the day for a set amount of time seems to be beyond our boy wonder, and I find myself wondering if I should just throw in the towel. Call it a day. Sign the damn treaty of Versailles and be done with it. He usually naps. At some point. For varying lengths of time. Usually an hour or more. And there are days...I'm sure everyone has days...where he just refuses to sleep for longer than 30 minutes and he will drag us all to the chasm of HELL before he will nap for longer than 30 minutes. But in the grand scheme of things, they're just days...just occasions, not really a habit.

I'm wondering if my on-going quest for perfection is hampering my enjoyment of our usual days because the occasional days create a flaw in the pattern.

Anyway, the sucker in me, says that I should take what I have and be grateful for it. At some point he will appreciate his naps and they will stretch out. Also, he is just so darn cute...

What to do on a rainy Friday...

Hmmmm.

Make bread?


check! Honey Oat Wheat bread. It made 4 loaves and 12 rolls. NOM NOM NOM

What else?

Right! One cute kid. Check!

Excuse me please, I need to go eat delicious baby cheeks for dinner...wait, that's not right...bread and cheese!

Untitlable

So, I'm having one of those days.

One of those days where I love my boy so much I think my heart will break into a million tiny little pieces.

Ask me again at 4ish this afternoon and I'll probably yawn and say, "All I ever wanted in my whole life was a NAP but my kid hates me and I can't sleep and whine whine whine..."

But for right now, there's this...

Sketches 3

So, we installed one of these on the toilet this weekend in lieu of the cloth diapering which commenced today.

After the installation the Husband comes out of the bathroom and says (with a diabolical smile on his face), "That thing is going to make keeping the cats off of the counter a BREEZE."

3 Months

Well, hello, World. Yes, I have a blog.

As for the Epic Battle of Wills--I am not yet declaring victory, but we are close. So close I can smell it. And I love the smell of a scheduled baby in the morning.

Mostly I wanted to let you all know that we are all still alive.

YAY!

And also, yesterday the Boy was 3 months old. I am so proud of myself for keeping him alive and well this long that I made myself a cake! Chocolate! With ice cream! And we went and had real conversation with lovely friends.

In all seriousness, look at how cute this boy is...

Also, he peed all over himself this morning. Seriously! He peed all over his own face. The Husband and I are terrible parents because we just laughed at him and the Husband said, "See! It doesn't feel good does it? Now stop peeing on US!"

I sense that victory is very near. I'll keep you all up to date on any developments.

QUESTION!

So.

If the Wife wins on wake up, feedings and the morning nap, but the Boy insist on only napping for an hour in the afternoon and then WAILING for an hour and then napping for an additional 40 minutes on TOP of ME, does that mean I win the day?

Also this.

The Husband is getting ready for some fancy pants dinner that he has to attend as part of his program and he came in to where I'm writing this and asked,

"Did you happen to find a packet of Listerine breath strips come through the laundry?"

"Yes." I replied. "They melted in the washer, it was disgusting, but the whites came out minty fresh."

"Huh. Well, um, sorry about that. I think I forgot them in my shirt pocket." He says.

"Uh-huh."

These are the sorts of moments that no one tells you about when you are engaged and preparing to embark upon marriage. That there will be moments when your husband is about to go to a fancy pants dinner with out you (you will be home being spit up upon by an in-the-process-of-being-usurped-by-a-schedule mini-dictator) and you will be questioned about breath strips going through the laundry and perfuming your underwear. You must bear it nobly. Good luck.

Battle of the Boy

Today was decidedly better.

Maybe it was the conference atmosphere, but I feel like I've just won a major battle. And whilst we have not yet vanquished our enemy (the Whatever I Want Whenever I Want it Schedule), I feel like we've at least crested the summit and it will just be a matter of repetition now.

Also, I compromised.

I had originally set the Boy up on an 8am-8pm schedule because it would be oh so nice to have a bit of a lie on Saturdays, but the Boy? Yeah, he thinks that 7am-7pm is much MUCH better and when he does that he naps well, so who am I to judge. Apparently, he's a morning baby.

He's currently asleep. In his bed. And me? I'm drying one last load of clothes before I hit the sack as well. I'm exhausted. We tied 2 quilts today while we listened to conference (and by we I mean the Husband tied them and I played with the Boy). Also, I made cookies. And a cake. And pasta sauce. We're having some friends over for lunch tomorrow and I'm trying to get as much done in advance as I can.

Thank you all for your tips, suggestions and sympathy...it's so nice to know I'm not in this alone.

Death by Screaming

Wow.

So, when we last met, I--your fearless author--was informing you of the forthcoming Epic Battle of Wills part 2 as we try to get the Boy on a schedule.

Wednesday went ok. An hour nap in the morning, 2 hours in the afternoon and down for the count at 7:30 (a bit ahead of schedule but better than late).

Yesterday? Oh dear. It's a wonder we all made it out alive. The Boy launched his first offensive regarding the morning nap, which he would not (WOULD NOT) take. There was weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, there was kicking, there was banging his head against my arm and chest. It was decidedly unpleasant but not unexpected.

Oh how naive I am. I honestly thought that since he hadn't napped that morning he would snooze the afternoon away. I had (perhaps) underestimated my opponent but no more. After the 3 hour screaming bombardment I now know what I am up against. He took no afternoon nap, and he followed up the screaming with yet more screaming in the evening. I attempted to capture photographic evidence of his tactics, but alas, he foiled me again.

As for today? Well, today we went grocery shopping (which means he missed his morning nap) and he howled for an hour before I would put him down for his afternoon nap (thankfully, I was in the shower at the time--thank you Gina!). He slept for 2 and half hours--conceding the battle but not the war, I'm sure--and we have resumed our Epic Battle of Wills. He's currently fussing in his crib. Tonight should prove interesting as we are going out and we are taking him with us.

I'll keep you abreast of further developments. For now, here's one of the highlights of the last day of September. The Boy, the Agnes and the Husband...

The Wife, the boy and the Epic Battle of Wills--part 2

Well.

Remember a couple of weeks ago when I thought that the Boy had set his own schedule?

Yeah.

Not so much now. Apparently that growth spurt from Hell messed him up spectacularly and now he's on the Whatever I Want Whenever I Want it Schedule of suckitude for the Wife. So, I am taking the proverbial bull by the horns.

We are putting this Boy on a schedule starting this week. Oh, I can feel the resistance brewing. I can see it in his wee face, that Boy is plotting his mutiny.

I am planning on the month of October being just about as miserable and unpleasant as a 3 month old can contrive to make it (i.e. PRETTY MISERABLE), but I remain confident that I am both more stubborn and diabolical than he is (after all, I've had several decades worth of practice whereas he is still a novice).

So, if you do not hear from me very often this month, do not despair, just know that there is an Epic Battle of Wills taking place, again. And I will notify you all when I am victorious.

For now, here's a picture of my cute sweet boy when he's getting his way all the time and happy!