Holding your baby at bedtime is special. It isn't like holding him on the living room floor, or at the doctor's office or in line at the grocery store. No. Holding your baby at bedtime when he is peaceful, warm, secure, still, and contentedly sucking on his pacifier is so gratifying.
I was just down stairs putting Theo to bed for the evening. Or the next 3 hours. As I sat on the bed and gently rocked him, the same boy who five minutes prior was a wiggly screaming little thing, I looked into his eyes which were looking somewhere past me. Everything about his posture said, "I feel safe. There is no place I would rather be." I leaned over and breathed deep, hoping to breath in long enough and hard enough to forever remember that sweet baby smell. As my cheek touched his and I gave him little kisses on his cheek his eyes closed. He was the very image of all things peaceful.
No amount of money could convince Theo to leave my arms. No special toys or treats. He is in a special, unspoiled phase where he doesn't know the excitement of new toys, the sweetness of candy, the false promise money holds to happiness.
As I was holding him I was trying to think of all of the things I would jump out of bed for - and to me sleep leads to peace. Lovely, lovely peace.
Stacey London and Clinton Kelly from TLC's "What Not To Wear" offering me $5,000 in exchange for my current wardrobe.
Done.
Peter Walsh, organizing guru, offering to straighten out my house and help me (and Ryan) purge.
Done.
A meal cooked by Tom Douglas - complete with dessert, of course.
Done.
Oh, wait. I suppose we could just go to the Dahlia Lounge and pay for it.
Done.
Maybe Ryan and I should consider the Dahlia Lounge for our anniversary dinner date. We are not high brow diners - we save our one big spendy meal for our anniversary.
I'm hungry.
A massage by... just about anyone. Well, professional, that is. Creeps need not apply.
Does all of this say I don't value sleep and peace or that I'm hungry and in need of a new wardrobe?
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Dirty Looks
After Jessica left today I thought it would be a good idea if we went outside for a bit. I had a duvet cover to return to Bed, Bath & Beyond and Gavin likes to ride the train so I loaded my cute crew into the Bob and we took the train downtown.
It was pretty smooth sailing getting there. Today was the first time I didn't walk up Pine (or Pike.. I think it's Pine) and go to the 5th Ave and circle the block and find a city ambassador in a yellow jacket to point me in the direction of BB&B. I took a right out of the elevator and went straight to 3rd Avenue. It's the small things that make me happy. Like going the right direction to a store I've been to a million times.
As I was pulling the bag with the duvet cover out from under the stroller I remembered I forgot something: the receipt. Fortunately, I made the purchase with a debit card so the clerk was able to find the transaction and give me a refund; in cash because I bought it two days ago. Unfortunately he only had $5 bills. Even with the 20% off coupon I used and it already being on sale it was a lot of $5 bills that he gave me.
On our way back toward the transit tunnel we stopped to listen to the Out to Lunch band perform. It was a fun rock/ska band. I don't remember their name. People were generally enjoying the music. Swaying a bit, bopping their heads... and then there was this dude who brought new meaning to the afternoon music lunch series namesake:
Did he hear the band, go home and get his colorful scarves and come back to dance? Or did he already have them and had the good fortune of being at the right place at the right time?
Gavin did not like the band. He did not enjoy it when I took him out to "dance". (Yes, the quotation marks are necessary any time I reference myself and dancing). Since the G was not enjoying the impromptu concert and dancing session my mommy radar went off: a meltdown will ensue if food is not proffered soon.
Some Starbucks carry a kid friendly snack box. It has cheese, crackers, raisins, and some sort of teddy graham cracker. Both Starbucks I stopped at did not so at the second place I found some mostly nutritious food items and we sat outside on 5th Ave to enjoy the "air" (in city, on street - the air can only be so fresh). When I offered him milk he screamed.
Oh boy. If that's how things were going to start...
After he had a few crackers the milk was suddenly welcome. Sandwich, yogurt, crackers, milk. Good stuff. Theo had some milk. We had lots of people staring and saying, "how cute."
I thought, "Uh huh. Just you wait."
It started on the way back to the train. Gavin was walking. He let go of my hand. Not cool. Crowded city sidewalks are not the place to test boundaries with this mama. I told him if he let go one more time he was going back in the stroller.
He decided to let go as we were crossing 4th Avenue. It was a very sad choice on his part. I took his hand and made our way to the sidewalk so I could safely wrangle him into the stroller. Of course he went limp so I was pushing the stroller out of the street and trying to not completely drag Gavin. It's not like I had a lot of choice. The middle of the street is probably the worst possible place to throw a tantrum.
Safely on the sidewalk I locked the brakes and began the wrestling match. *ding* *ding*
In this corner we have Cranky Pants Gavin! and in this corner we have Fed Up Mama! *ding* *ding*
As I was trying to put Gavin in his seat and he was arching his back and screaming I realized it must look like I'm the worst mom in the world. A man smiled as he must have heard me say, "Yes, this is sad. You chose to let go of Mama's hand in the middle of the street so now you have to ride in the stroller."
The crying on the train was my fault. As I was maneuvering the stroller to be as least obtrusive as possible I squished Gavin's arm against a bar. Oops. I apologized and kissed it but he was tired so mommy kisses are no where near as effective. A not so helpful stranger piped up about how Gavin must be tired. I know he was trying to be nice but I'm the one who gave him a boo boo so I didn't like anyone putting the blame on Gavin. I said, "Yes, he's tired, but I did hurt his arm when parking the stroller."
He kept talking to us. Almost until we got home. He wasn't that bad; I just was feeling awful because I was the source of my son's pain. And I got to do it in front of a bunch of people.
Round two of the meltdown started brewing when Gavin wanted to get out of his stroller. In hopes of staving off a battle in the train I started in with the bribes.
"Stay in your seat and you can push the button on the elevator when we get off the train," I said.
He stayed. I don't think it was so much that he could push the button but that he couldn't get out of the straps.
Once we were off the train and we were near the elevators I let Gavin out and told him he could go push a button. But there was a problem with that.
Some jerk already pushed the button. I mean, really! How dare a complete stranger think he had any right to push the elevator button when unbeknownst to him a grumpy toddler was making his way to push the beloved elevator button. The nerve!
When we arrived the doors were opening. I tried to tell Gavin to stay back and we would get the next one but he couldn't hear me above his indignant screaming. So we boarded the elevator.
"Go push the button, honey. The one with the start next to the 'P'", I said somewhat hopefully. He made his way to the front of the massive elevator and in front of a passenger and his bike to push the already lit up button. He pushed it a fraction of a second before we started to ascend.
"Just in time," said the bike owner (aka the jerk, Mr. Happy Button Pusher himself). He must have known that if Gavin thought he was not the one to command the elevator to go up it would have led to another meltdown.
I smiled at Mr. Jerk and nodded, "Whew." It really was a close call.
But never fear the next meltdown was not far away.
Once at the top Gavin sensed our fun trip was over. The only thing left to do was to go home, get a clean diaper and take a nap. Even though I didn't say, "nap" or "diaper" he is a smart cookie. He knew.
In an effort to stave off the inevitable and to give him a bit more fun before we went home to the house of horror where little boys must take naps and are forced to wear clean diapers I handed him my Orca card to let him tap it to complete our fare transaction.
"Go tap it," I said, pointing to the Orca card tapping station thingy.
He swiped the card from my hand and tapped it. Correctly. The first time. I was very impressed.
The machine made it's boop sound which confirmed all went well. As I congratulated Gavin on doing a good job he must have heard something differently with the boop.
To him "boop" meant: "It's over, kid. Time to have your mom take you out of your own filth and put a clean diaper on you. Then you will have to lay down and close your eyes! Bwahahaha ! BWAHAHAHA!"
Oh, I failed to mention exiting the elevator. We had another scene similar to that on 4th Ave when he let go of my hand. This time he let go of my hand as we were exiting the elevator. Not wanting the stroller with the diaper bag - which had house keys, car keys and wallet to go careening into the busy street - or even just stay up there without me - while we went back to the train level - so I grabbed Gavin's hand and exited the elevator. As we were leaving (me holding on to a screaming toddler by the hand as he went limp) a childless duo entered. They looked at Gavin with big sympathetic eyes. They looked at me with much less sympathy in their eyes. One might even say they looked at me with a big dose of criticism.
Fortunately for everyone I was too engaged trying to drag my son to a safe place to give them the stink eye in return. Besides, giving them the stink eye would have only served to reinforce their erroneous belief that I was being a monstrosity.
It was time to once again stuff my beloved first born into the stroller since he didn't want to walk home. He just stood there when I offered him his two choices, "You can hold my hand and walk or you can ride in the stroller. Which would you like to do?"
In the Love and Logic series that preaches the virtues of offering choices they make it sound like your kid will choose one of the options. Ha! Gavin likes to refuse both options or to give us a third option, which, we of course, rarely find to be an acceptable alternative to what we are offering.
The screaming continued as we strolled home. This time the pace was not so leisurely as I wanted the screaming to be over.
I took a short, very short, video of the tail end of his meltdown. It in no way represents the fullness of what he can do. I'm always posting the cute happy photos - which I love to do - but for your viewing pleasure I'm showing you the 5 second clip I took when we got home.
He and his brother are now resting peacefully in their respective cribs. I had two coffees today so I don't need a nap. The silence in the house is heavenly.
It was pretty smooth sailing getting there. Today was the first time I didn't walk up Pine (or Pike.. I think it's Pine) and go to the 5th Ave and circle the block and find a city ambassador in a yellow jacket to point me in the direction of BB&B. I took a right out of the elevator and went straight to 3rd Avenue. It's the small things that make me happy. Like going the right direction to a store I've been to a million times.
As I was pulling the bag with the duvet cover out from under the stroller I remembered I forgot something: the receipt. Fortunately, I made the purchase with a debit card so the clerk was able to find the transaction and give me a refund; in cash because I bought it two days ago. Unfortunately he only had $5 bills. Even with the 20% off coupon I used and it already being on sale it was a lot of $5 bills that he gave me.
On our way back toward the transit tunnel we stopped to listen to the Out to Lunch band perform. It was a fun rock/ska band. I don't remember their name. People were generally enjoying the music. Swaying a bit, bopping their heads... and then there was this dude who brought new meaning to the afternoon music lunch series namesake:
Did he hear the band, go home and get his colorful scarves and come back to dance? Or did he already have them and had the good fortune of being at the right place at the right time?
Gavin did not like the band. He did not enjoy it when I took him out to "dance". (Yes, the quotation marks are necessary any time I reference myself and dancing). Since the G was not enjoying the impromptu concert and dancing session my mommy radar went off: a meltdown will ensue if food is not proffered soon.
Some Starbucks carry a kid friendly snack box. It has cheese, crackers, raisins, and some sort of teddy graham cracker. Both Starbucks I stopped at did not so at the second place I found some mostly nutritious food items and we sat outside on 5th Ave to enjoy the "air" (in city, on street - the air can only be so fresh). When I offered him milk he screamed.
Oh boy. If that's how things were going to start...
After he had a few crackers the milk was suddenly welcome. Sandwich, yogurt, crackers, milk. Good stuff. Theo had some milk. We had lots of people staring and saying, "how cute."
I thought, "Uh huh. Just you wait."
It started on the way back to the train. Gavin was walking. He let go of my hand. Not cool. Crowded city sidewalks are not the place to test boundaries with this mama. I told him if he let go one more time he was going back in the stroller.
He decided to let go as we were crossing 4th Avenue. It was a very sad choice on his part. I took his hand and made our way to the sidewalk so I could safely wrangle him into the stroller. Of course he went limp so I was pushing the stroller out of the street and trying to not completely drag Gavin. It's not like I had a lot of choice. The middle of the street is probably the worst possible place to throw a tantrum.
Safely on the sidewalk I locked the brakes and began the wrestling match. *ding* *ding*
In this corner we have Cranky Pants Gavin! and in this corner we have Fed Up Mama! *ding* *ding*
As I was trying to put Gavin in his seat and he was arching his back and screaming I realized it must look like I'm the worst mom in the world. A man smiled as he must have heard me say, "Yes, this is sad. You chose to let go of Mama's hand in the middle of the street so now you have to ride in the stroller."
The crying on the train was my fault. As I was maneuvering the stroller to be as least obtrusive as possible I squished Gavin's arm against a bar. Oops. I apologized and kissed it but he was tired so mommy kisses are no where near as effective. A not so helpful stranger piped up about how Gavin must be tired. I know he was trying to be nice but I'm the one who gave him a boo boo so I didn't like anyone putting the blame on Gavin. I said, "Yes, he's tired, but I did hurt his arm when parking the stroller."
He kept talking to us. Almost until we got home. He wasn't that bad; I just was feeling awful because I was the source of my son's pain. And I got to do it in front of a bunch of people.
Round two of the meltdown started brewing when Gavin wanted to get out of his stroller. In hopes of staving off a battle in the train I started in with the bribes.
"Stay in your seat and you can push the button on the elevator when we get off the train," I said.
He stayed. I don't think it was so much that he could push the button but that he couldn't get out of the straps.
Once we were off the train and we were near the elevators I let Gavin out and told him he could go push a button. But there was a problem with that.
Some jerk already pushed the button. I mean, really! How dare a complete stranger think he had any right to push the elevator button when unbeknownst to him a grumpy toddler was making his way to push the beloved elevator button. The nerve!
When we arrived the doors were opening. I tried to tell Gavin to stay back and we would get the next one but he couldn't hear me above his indignant screaming. So we boarded the elevator.
"Go push the button, honey. The one with the start next to the 'P'", I said somewhat hopefully. He made his way to the front of the massive elevator and in front of a passenger and his bike to push the already lit up button. He pushed it a fraction of a second before we started to ascend.
"Just in time," said the bike owner (aka the jerk, Mr. Happy Button Pusher himself). He must have known that if Gavin thought he was not the one to command the elevator to go up it would have led to another meltdown.
I smiled at Mr. Jerk and nodded, "Whew." It really was a close call.
But never fear the next meltdown was not far away.
Once at the top Gavin sensed our fun trip was over. The only thing left to do was to go home, get a clean diaper and take a nap. Even though I didn't say, "nap" or "diaper" he is a smart cookie. He knew.
In an effort to stave off the inevitable and to give him a bit more fun before we went home to the house of horror where little boys must take naps and are forced to wear clean diapers I handed him my Orca card to let him tap it to complete our fare transaction.
"Go tap it," I said, pointing to the Orca card tapping station thingy.
He swiped the card from my hand and tapped it. Correctly. The first time. I was very impressed.
The machine made it's boop sound which confirmed all went well. As I congratulated Gavin on doing a good job he must have heard something differently with the boop.
To him "boop" meant: "It's over, kid. Time to have your mom take you out of your own filth and put a clean diaper on you. Then you will have to lay down and close your eyes! Bwahahaha ! BWAHAHAHA!"
Oh, I failed to mention exiting the elevator. We had another scene similar to that on 4th Ave when he let go of my hand. This time he let go of my hand as we were exiting the elevator. Not wanting the stroller with the diaper bag - which had house keys, car keys and wallet to go careening into the busy street - or even just stay up there without me - while we went back to the train level - so I grabbed Gavin's hand and exited the elevator. As we were leaving (me holding on to a screaming toddler by the hand as he went limp) a childless duo entered. They looked at Gavin with big sympathetic eyes. They looked at me with much less sympathy in their eyes. One might even say they looked at me with a big dose of criticism.
Fortunately for everyone I was too engaged trying to drag my son to a safe place to give them the stink eye in return. Besides, giving them the stink eye would have only served to reinforce their erroneous belief that I was being a monstrosity.
It was time to once again stuff my beloved first born into the stroller since he didn't want to walk home. He just stood there when I offered him his two choices, "You can hold my hand and walk or you can ride in the stroller. Which would you like to do?"
In the Love and Logic series that preaches the virtues of offering choices they make it sound like your kid will choose one of the options. Ha! Gavin likes to refuse both options or to give us a third option, which, we of course, rarely find to be an acceptable alternative to what we are offering.
The screaming continued as we strolled home. This time the pace was not so leisurely as I wanted the screaming to be over.
I took a short, very short, video of the tail end of his meltdown. It in no way represents the fullness of what he can do. I'm always posting the cute happy photos - which I love to do - but for your viewing pleasure I'm showing you the 5 second clip I took when we got home.
He and his brother are now resting peacefully in their respective cribs. I had two coffees today so I don't need a nap. The silence in the house is heavenly.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Zoo
Here are some photos of our zoo outting yesterday morning. Pictures include a few animals, two really happy and really cute boys. Not pictured is the ugliness of leaving the zoo. Oy.
Gavin looking at the zebras in the distance.
Theo not sleeping. Sunglasses don't belong over eyes! They belong in the mouth. Duh.
He had so much fun in this little structure. He could have spent all day in there.
A goat in the petting zoo Gavin half heartedly pet.
Showing off his feathers to a pygmy goat.
Theo is sleeping.
Gavin looking at the zebras in the distance.
Theo not sleeping. Sunglasses don't belong over eyes! They belong in the mouth. Duh.
He had so much fun in this little structure. He could have spent all day in there.
A goat in the petting zoo Gavin half heartedly pet.
Showing off his feathers to a pygmy goat. Bird brain.
Hanging out with his mama while Gavin played on the giant worm.
Pony? Gavin didn't really care. Theo really liked the mule in the next stall over.
You could tell he really wanted to play inside but was a little intimidated.
That was as high as he went.
Enjoying the waterfall.
Enjoying life.
Crackers and strawberries. Life is good.
This picnic blanket is the BEST because it is HUGE! Zips up and stores nicely. (Bed, Bath & Beyond - $9.99 after $10 off coupon).
Hanging out with his mama while Gavin played on the giant worm.
Pony? Gavin didn't really care. Theo really liked the mule in the next stall over.
You could tell he really wanted to play inside but was a little intimidated.
That was as high as he went.
Enjoying the waterfall.
Enjoying life.
Crackers and strawberries. Life is good.
This picnic blanket is the BEST because it is HUGE! Zips up and stores nicely. (Bed, Bath & Beyond - $9.99 after $10 off coupon).
Short video of baby cuteness:
Monday, June 21, 2010
Epic Feat
Why does it seem that when you are in a hurry you can't find a parking space even remotely close to where you need to be?
Today I went to Bed, Bath and Beyond downtown. We drove because I didn't feel like hauling the loot home whilst pushing a stroller and navigating urine soaked elevators in the bus tunnel. Oh, I don't think I ever mention that little part when I talk about how much I love living in the city and taking the train places. Wow. The homeless use the elevators as a discreet place to relieve themselves. I can understand the desire to have some privacy but urine in an enclosed space... It doesn't matter how quickly someone comes and dumps a bucket of water on it. It's there to stay.
But writing about stinky elevators isn't why I'm writing. I'm writing because I did something amazing today. Truly amazing.
On our way to BB&B we passed the Dahlia Bakery (upon reading "Dahlia Bakery" the skies should have opened and a host of heavenly voices streamed down). As I looked at the store front sign I saw a huge parking spot right outside of the store. Then another parking spot. All of these parking spots were beckoning me to come hither.
I even looked in my rear view mirror and saw that I had plenty of time and room to do some maneuvering to get the giant minivan into one of the aforementioned spots that were so close to a little bit of Heaven on earth.
I thought of the fig bar I enjoyed there last fall with my friend Jenn (thanks and curses for showing me the Dahlia Bakery) and thought it would be nice to enjoy another fig bar right about now.
Then I thought of my butt. Well, I actually thought of my grandma arms and too far out to call it a post partum belly-belly.
With eyes focused straight ahead I kept driving.
And that was amazing. No forces beyond my control forced the van to the side of the road. No forces beyond my control made me unload the kids from the van.
So my arms and belly may not have shrunk any today they at least didn't grow any, either.
Today I went to Bed, Bath and Beyond downtown. We drove because I didn't feel like hauling the loot home whilst pushing a stroller and navigating urine soaked elevators in the bus tunnel. Oh, I don't think I ever mention that little part when I talk about how much I love living in the city and taking the train places. Wow. The homeless use the elevators as a discreet place to relieve themselves. I can understand the desire to have some privacy but urine in an enclosed space... It doesn't matter how quickly someone comes and dumps a bucket of water on it. It's there to stay.
But writing about stinky elevators isn't why I'm writing. I'm writing because I did something amazing today. Truly amazing.
On our way to BB&B we passed the Dahlia Bakery (upon reading "Dahlia Bakery" the skies should have opened and a host of heavenly voices streamed down). As I looked at the store front sign I saw a huge parking spot right outside of the store. Then another parking spot. All of these parking spots were beckoning me to come hither.
I even looked in my rear view mirror and saw that I had plenty of time and room to do some maneuvering to get the giant minivan into one of the aforementioned spots that were so close to a little bit of Heaven on earth.
I thought of the fig bar I enjoyed there last fall with my friend Jenn (thanks and curses for showing me the Dahlia Bakery) and thought it would be nice to enjoy another fig bar right about now.
Then I thought of my butt. Well, I actually thought of my grandma arms and too far out to call it a post partum belly-belly.
With eyes focused straight ahead I kept driving.
And that was amazing. No forces beyond my control forced the van to the side of the road. No forces beyond my control made me unload the kids from the van.
So my arms and belly may not have shrunk any today they at least didn't grow any, either.
Monday, June 14, 2010
How 'Bout
I'm starting to think we say a couple of things a lot in our house based on what Gavin says.
When Theo is upset I say, "Oh, Honey," as I try to soothe him. Gavin says it to him as well but usually when he's trying to tickle him. He sees his brother being cute - because, hey, that's about all he does right now (aside from crying, screaming and pooping - and heck, even sometimes those are cute, too) - and Gavin comes up with his shoulders scrunched up, fingers outstretched, eyes squinty and says, "Oh, Honey (or "Oh, Bruva") and proceeds to tickle Theo.
It is insanely adorable.
Oh, and when I tell Gavin he is adorable he says, "Adobo."
Tonight at dinner he was telling us he had a fork and spoon in his hand. Only when he says 'fork' it doesn't sound at all like 'fork'. Think, no 'r' and a definite 'u' sound in there. The 'f' and 'k' are clear as day. 'Spoon' is 'foon' but that's not nearly as funny.
So... he says "fork and spoon." But it sounds like "f**k 'n foon".
Ryan and I snickered like Jr. High kids.
This afternoon Gavin was wanting to only eat the fruit salad I made the night before. Fearing some super messy diapers I put the kibosh on fruit noshing. "More fooht," he asked.
"How about carrots and hummus?" I responded.
"How 'bout... fooht?" he squeaked back at me.
We settled on some crackers.
When Theo is upset I say, "Oh, Honey," as I try to soothe him. Gavin says it to him as well but usually when he's trying to tickle him. He sees his brother being cute - because, hey, that's about all he does right now (aside from crying, screaming and pooping - and heck, even sometimes those are cute, too) - and Gavin comes up with his shoulders scrunched up, fingers outstretched, eyes squinty and says, "Oh, Honey (or "Oh, Bruva") and proceeds to tickle Theo.
It is insanely adorable.
Oh, and when I tell Gavin he is adorable he says, "Adobo."
Tonight at dinner he was telling us he had a fork and spoon in his hand. Only when he says 'fork' it doesn't sound at all like 'fork'. Think, no 'r' and a definite 'u' sound in there. The 'f' and 'k' are clear as day. 'Spoon' is 'foon' but that's not nearly as funny.
So... he says "fork and spoon." But it sounds like "f**k 'n foon".
Ryan and I snickered like Jr. High kids.
This afternoon Gavin was wanting to only eat the fruit salad I made the night before. Fearing some super messy diapers I put the kibosh on fruit noshing. "More fooht," he asked.
"How about carrots and hummus?" I responded.
"How 'bout... fooht?" he squeaked back at me.
We settled on some crackers.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Fog
If you know me you know I really enjoy writing. It took me a while to realize how much I like to write. In school I thought writing assignments in English classes were ridiculously easy so I enjoyed them. While the class toiled away to write a poem in whatever style we were learning about I put pen to paper and bam! was done. Then I had the rest of the period to read whatever novel I was working on, "Gone With the Wind", or more realistically, a Philipa Carr romance novel. It was Jr. High, after all.
These days I want to sit down and click away on the keyboard and spill my guts but I can't. For two reasons. The first reason being the stuff is waaaay to personal. Too personal? From the woman who told the world about near crippling nightmares and the breast biopsy that got infected? Yep. Too personal. Nothing going on physically (not at the moment anyway - my face is healed and I only have one tiny scar on my chin as proof of my days scaring the kids in the drive throughs on 4th Ave). Nothing with me and Ryan - just stuff I'm working through. Maybe I'll write a book about it one of these days. After I've conquered... the stuff ... and it feels like ancient history.
The other reason is the fog. My brain is pretty foggy these days. Sure, I can waste time on facebook and occasionally read other people's blogs but that doesn't take much mental acuity.
I've been trying to figure out for how long this state of sleep deprivation I'm in has been going on. I think I try to quantify it to make myself feel better about how little I cook, or clean or do the things housewives are supposed to do.
I figure the poor sleep started almost as soon as I got pregnant with Gavin - that was about January/February 2007. Gavin slept through the night for 2 weeks in February or March of 2008 before finally sleeping through the night somewhere around December/January 2008/2009. That gave me about a month and a half of good sleep before I got pregnant with Theo. Then sleep went back down the crapper.
So... I haven't had good sleep (at least 4 hours at a stretch) since before February 2007 - almost THREE AND A HALF years ago.
Poor me. Poor moms everywhere.
Theo will sleep through the night eventually. I am really looking forward to that eventuality.
In other sleep related news: Gavin is sleeping in his big boy bed! Tonight is the first successful night. It has been two hours and he is asleep and did not tried to escape - not even once! We tried last week and he was leaving his room every few minutes. I would hear his bedroom door open and him say, "Uh, I fink... uh, DIS one!" and he would come running out with the toy he selected - trying the whole time to not smile. You could see how pleased he was with his clever self at selecting just the right toy and his grand entrance into the living room. It was all too cute and very hard to not smile. I did break the stern parent face a time or two which I'm sure made the whole ordeal that much more fun. Until I put him back in his crib.
Tonight I asked him where he wanted to sleep. He said his big boy crib; so I had him point. He wanted the bed so I put him down and we said prayers and sang our usual songs. Then I told him if he left his bedroom I would put him back in his crib.
I hope tomorrow goes just as smooth.
These days I want to sit down and click away on the keyboard and spill my guts but I can't. For two reasons. The first reason being the stuff is waaaay to personal. Too personal? From the woman who told the world about near crippling nightmares and the breast biopsy that got infected? Yep. Too personal. Nothing going on physically (not at the moment anyway - my face is healed and I only have one tiny scar on my chin as proof of my days scaring the kids in the drive throughs on 4th Ave). Nothing with me and Ryan - just stuff I'm working through. Maybe I'll write a book about it one of these days. After I've conquered... the stuff ... and it feels like ancient history.
The other reason is the fog. My brain is pretty foggy these days. Sure, I can waste time on facebook and occasionally read other people's blogs but that doesn't take much mental acuity.
I've been trying to figure out for how long this state of sleep deprivation I'm in has been going on. I think I try to quantify it to make myself feel better about how little I cook, or clean or do the things housewives are supposed to do.
I figure the poor sleep started almost as soon as I got pregnant with Gavin - that was about January/February 2007. Gavin slept through the night for 2 weeks in February or March of 2008 before finally sleeping through the night somewhere around December/January 2008/2009. That gave me about a month and a half of good sleep before I got pregnant with Theo. Then sleep went back down the crapper.
So... I haven't had good sleep (at least 4 hours at a stretch) since before February 2007 - almost THREE AND A HALF years ago.
Poor me. Poor moms everywhere.
Theo will sleep through the night eventually. I am really looking forward to that eventuality.
In other sleep related news: Gavin is sleeping in his big boy bed! Tonight is the first successful night. It has been two hours and he is asleep and did not tried to escape - not even once! We tried last week and he was leaving his room every few minutes. I would hear his bedroom door open and him say, "Uh, I fink... uh, DIS one!" and he would come running out with the toy he selected - trying the whole time to not smile. You could see how pleased he was with his clever self at selecting just the right toy and his grand entrance into the living room. It was all too cute and very hard to not smile. I did break the stern parent face a time or two which I'm sure made the whole ordeal that much more fun. Until I put him back in his crib.
Tonight I asked him where he wanted to sleep. He said his big boy crib; so I had him point. He wanted the bed so I put him down and we said prayers and sang our usual songs. Then I told him if he left his bedroom I would put him back in his crib.
I hope tomorrow goes just as smooth.
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