Friday I had a plan. It was a five-days-in-the-making rant about how I'm either a horrible mother or Gracie is a horrible two year old or that we are somehow equal in our terribleness and not fit to call each other by our titles: mother and daughter.
It had been a rough week filled with tears (on both ends) and temper tantrums (on both ends). My whole hearted attempts to follow Matt's sage advice failed. To just slow down to her pace and if things take longer, then so be it. I was trying so hard, except nothing was changing except the fact that we were now adding over an hour onto our days. Which meant we ate a lot of frozen pizza for dinner last week.
But instead of writing a much more in depth account of the happenings of the week Friday morning, I mothered: I cleaned up puke and I changed more liquid diapers than should be allowed.
It is funny what a grounding and centering thing caring for a truly sick child is. I would take her pain and discomfort upon myself 100 times over to spare her the slightest pain, but it is in those pretense free moments at 3am that your remember your calling. And that she does indeed need you, wrapped in your arms in a search for comfort.
Then 24 hours later after doses of Tylenol, kiddie Pepto-Bismo and dozens of freeze pops with only 1/4 eaten before melting, she is fine. Happy. Giddy over the prospect of riding with daddy on the big choo choo train from Baltimore to DC for their 36 hour date.
And I am left to reflect on her new found health as I am curled into a ball, clutching my own stomach for a new 24 hour period and wondering how I am going to keep down food that I know her little sister needs me to eat.
Such is the life of a parent. Such is the life of a mother. And every moment is worth it.
Showing posts with label Crankiness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Crankiness. Show all posts
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Tuesday Morning Blues
So you know back here, when I talked about Gracie not sleeping (and Matt yelled at me for making public threats against our daughter on my blog, not that anyone else would know about that... and besides, I was only kind of serious.)
Well, she's still not sleeping. It's only been a week, but it has been a hellish week. I take that back, it's been on and off for more than a month, but it's only been every night for the hellish week.
At first we kept chalking up the sleeplessness to teething. Remember this chart? I actually refer back to it often and it is probable that she's getting her back molars, which by all accounts, is painful. Shouldn't they have already come in though? How long can you blame bad sleep on teeth?
So last night we drew our line in the sand. Back to basics. We cannot be a co-sleeping family. I take up 2/3 of the bed and Matt is a very, very light sleeper. Every movement, every noise wakes him up and Gracie makes circles like Curley from the Three Stooges when she sleeps. We had to put an end to this, so we decided it's time for Night One of Operation Cry It Out.
According to Matt, the initial screaming only lasted 25 minutes. It makes sense, that is how long Gracie always took as an infant. Even then it was gut wrenching, but we knew at exactly minute 25 the exhaustion would give out. It did this time too, but there is a major difference between the screams of a pissed off 11 month old and a pissed offer 21 month old.
At 11 months old you are filled with self doubt. As a parent you question whether your doing the right thing. The cries are shrill and wild and a little bit fearful. At 21 months, we are confident that we are dong the right thing and Gracie knows exactly what she is doing too. We had previously stopped letting her cry it out because it would inevitably lead to barf. There was no vomit last night, just anger and confusion and all the air in the room being redirected through her lungs.
After awhile Matt went into her room, but following the guidelines never took her out of the crib. After the initial bellow, they came like reverse contractions. 30 seconds of screaming - pause for 2 minutes - 30 seconds of screaming - pause for 4 minutes - 30 seconds of screaming - pause for 6 minutes....
He laid on the floor near her until she finally fell asleep. He is a much stronger parent than I am. I would have cracked in the initial 25 if I had gotten out of bed. It is said that it takes 5 to 7 days to change sleep patterns. One down, hopefully not many more to go.
Well, she's still not sleeping. It's only been a week, but it has been a hellish week. I take that back, it's been on and off for more than a month, but it's only been every night for the hellish week.
At first we kept chalking up the sleeplessness to teething. Remember this chart? I actually refer back to it often and it is probable that she's getting her back molars, which by all accounts, is painful. Shouldn't they have already come in though? How long can you blame bad sleep on teeth?
So last night we drew our line in the sand. Back to basics. We cannot be a co-sleeping family. I take up 2/3 of the bed and Matt is a very, very light sleeper. Every movement, every noise wakes him up and Gracie makes circles like Curley from the Three Stooges when she sleeps. We had to put an end to this, so we decided it's time for Night One of Operation Cry It Out.
According to Matt, the initial screaming only lasted 25 minutes. It makes sense, that is how long Gracie always took as an infant. Even then it was gut wrenching, but we knew at exactly minute 25 the exhaustion would give out. It did this time too, but there is a major difference between the screams of a pissed off 11 month old and a pissed offer 21 month old.
At 11 months old you are filled with self doubt. As a parent you question whether your doing the right thing. The cries are shrill and wild and a little bit fearful. At 21 months, we are confident that we are dong the right thing and Gracie knows exactly what she is doing too. We had previously stopped letting her cry it out because it would inevitably lead to barf. There was no vomit last night, just anger and confusion and all the air in the room being redirected through her lungs.
After awhile Matt went into her room, but following the guidelines never took her out of the crib. After the initial bellow, they came like reverse contractions. 30 seconds of screaming - pause for 2 minutes - 30 seconds of screaming - pause for 4 minutes - 30 seconds of screaming - pause for 6 minutes....
He laid on the floor near her until she finally fell asleep. He is a much stronger parent than I am. I would have cracked in the initial 25 if I had gotten out of bed. It is said that it takes 5 to 7 days to change sleep patterns. One down, hopefully not many more to go.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Pushing Back
Grace is starting to push. Figuratively and literally.
This is on top of the hitting and throwing. Thankfully she is not biting yet, but I say yet because biting is rampant in her daycare class and I assume she will get on board with that soon enough.
It makes me feel like such a horrible parent A) that she feels the need to lash out at me and B) that I don’t know how to deal with it.
She doesn’t hit Matt. She just hits me. I’ve been trying to be more firm with her. She drops her hands, cowers back and waits until I drop my guard. Then she attacks again.
When she is doing something she knows is wrong, like standing tippey toed on the kitchen chairs while trying to fish the jar of chewable vitamins off the microwave, she calls for my attention. ‘Sit Doowm!’ She exclaims and does such as soon as I turn around to reinforce it. Then stands right back up as soon as my back is turned.
I don’t get it. It is making me crazy.
Last night, after the typical diaper wrestle – dry the butt – put on cream – fend off kicks – keep her from flipping over and smearing the expensive cream all over the table – give in and let her flip - place her back down on the table – get diaper on – stuff arms into the pajamas – fend off kicks – stuff feet into the pajamas – zip up pajamas – BIG HUG – she changed the ending on me. Instead of BIG HUG she put her hands on my breast bone and pushed me away with all her might.
I wanted to crumple.
I know she doesn’t mean it. I know she is just beginning the toddler phase of self assertion. I know this. On a cerebral level. My heart was filling with rage and tears though.
So I handed her off to Matt without a word. No good night kisses. No night-night games. I was done.
Now that I’m writing this though, I guess I acted the child just as much as she was. At least Grace had an excuse.
This is on top of the hitting and throwing. Thankfully she is not biting yet, but I say yet because biting is rampant in her daycare class and I assume she will get on board with that soon enough.
It makes me feel like such a horrible parent A) that she feels the need to lash out at me and B) that I don’t know how to deal with it.
She doesn’t hit Matt. She just hits me. I’ve been trying to be more firm with her. She drops her hands, cowers back and waits until I drop my guard. Then she attacks again.
When she is doing something she knows is wrong, like standing tippey toed on the kitchen chairs while trying to fish the jar of chewable vitamins off the microwave, she calls for my attention. ‘Sit Doowm!’ She exclaims and does such as soon as I turn around to reinforce it. Then stands right back up as soon as my back is turned.
I don’t get it. It is making me crazy.
Last night, after the typical diaper wrestle – dry the butt – put on cream – fend off kicks – keep her from flipping over and smearing the expensive cream all over the table – give in and let her flip - place her back down on the table – get diaper on – stuff arms into the pajamas – fend off kicks – stuff feet into the pajamas – zip up pajamas – BIG HUG – she changed the ending on me. Instead of BIG HUG she put her hands on my breast bone and pushed me away with all her might.
I wanted to crumple.
I know she doesn’t mean it. I know she is just beginning the toddler phase of self assertion. I know this. On a cerebral level. My heart was filling with rage and tears though.
So I handed her off to Matt without a word. No good night kisses. No night-night games. I was done.
Now that I’m writing this though, I guess I acted the child just as much as she was. At least Grace had an excuse.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Mother's Day 2.0
Babies OBVIOUSLY don't get the point of Mother's Day.
Maybe it's just me, but I kind of come at it like birthdays and Valentine's Day. If you don't expect anything, it's a nice surprise when you get something. (Yeah, I know. There is a lot of childhood trauma wrapped up in that statement.)
Anyway...
It is now 8:03 PM. I wondered today - out loud - why we ever wanted children. Until approximately 6:45 pm tonight. Grace is just shy of 19 months old. She doesn't know today from any other day in the year, except for the fact that Daddy made the pancakes this morning. (Which I swear she did raise an eyebrow to - as in Hey, what are you doing to my pancakes? :)
Grace was a basket case today. We are chalking it up to an ear infection - she's been tugging on her ears for days. Then, as always, 5 pm on Friday hits and she started running a temperature. Still, she was horrible today.
Today consisted of:
Crying for no reason.
Begging to be picked up and then insisting upon being put back down. Then demanding to be picked up again.
Refusing to have a diaper change and then rolling around and smearing the poo everywhere as soon as said diaper was unfastened.
Not wanting milk and then screaming when you put it back in the fridge.
Similarly, screaming for food and then feeding it to the dog when presented.
It was a brilliant day.
Then we opened a bottle of wine and for whatever reason, it suddenly got better. I did feel sad, knowing in the moment of the wine cork pop, that I would not be calling a fellow Mama for post-dinner drinks tonight, but c'est la vie. The wine turned all of our moods around. That was worth the sacrafice.
Suddenly Grace was gigging. Sure it was because Matt was punting her Pedipeds over her like in make shift football form, but so what.
She was happy. I was happy. WE WERE HAPPY.
Now tonight, Mother's Day 2.0 is closing with a bang. I will suck down the rest of my wine, and drift off to dreams of a teenager who tells me "I love you mom. What can I do to make this day better for you?"
I know it is a dream, but it is my wine and my dream - so I can do with it as I wish.
Maybe it's just me, but I kind of come at it like birthdays and Valentine's Day. If you don't expect anything, it's a nice surprise when you get something. (Yeah, I know. There is a lot of childhood trauma wrapped up in that statement.)
Anyway...
It is now 8:03 PM. I wondered today - out loud - why we ever wanted children. Until approximately 6:45 pm tonight. Grace is just shy of 19 months old. She doesn't know today from any other day in the year, except for the fact that Daddy made the pancakes this morning. (Which I swear she did raise an eyebrow to - as in Hey, what are you doing to my pancakes? :)
Grace was a basket case today. We are chalking it up to an ear infection - she's been tugging on her ears for days. Then, as always, 5 pm on Friday hits and she started running a temperature. Still, she was horrible today.
Today consisted of:
Crying for no reason.
Begging to be picked up and then insisting upon being put back down. Then demanding to be picked up again.
Refusing to have a diaper change and then rolling around and smearing the poo everywhere as soon as said diaper was unfastened.
Not wanting milk and then screaming when you put it back in the fridge.
Similarly, screaming for food and then feeding it to the dog when presented.
It was a brilliant day.
Then we opened a bottle of wine and for whatever reason, it suddenly got better. I did feel sad, knowing in the moment of the wine cork pop, that I would not be calling a fellow Mama for post-dinner drinks tonight, but c'est la vie. The wine turned all of our moods around. That was worth the sacrafice.
Suddenly Grace was gigging. Sure it was because Matt was punting her Pedipeds over her like in make shift football form, but so what.
She was happy. I was happy. WE WERE HAPPY.
Now tonight, Mother's Day 2.0 is closing with a bang. I will suck down the rest of my wine, and drift off to dreams of a teenager who tells me "I love you mom. What can I do to make this day better for you?"
I know it is a dream, but it is my wine and my dream - so I can do with it as I wish.
Monday, May 4, 2009
The Smell of Wet Wool
Before I could even sit down at my desk today I was asked about my weekend.
Did you go to the Sheep and Wool Festival? How was it? He inquired.
My response? Horrible.
Grace loves making animal noises, so I figured why not go see some sheep. The festival was free and minutes away from my house.
It was pouring rain, but I was prepared for that.
I dressed in capri’s and my super cute donkey boots and outfitted Grace with the knock-off Crocs I bought for the upcoming summer. Neither one of us own a proper rain coat, but we’d be fine with an umbrella. Most of the exhibits are in pavilions anyway.
I was shocked at how many cars there were in the mud filled parking lot. Given the crowds and the aforementioned mud, I decided to skip the stroller.
*Mistake #1*
About ¾ of the way to the first pavilion filled with sheep, my lower back started to spasm. Grace in my left arm, the umbrella being held over us with my right and my spine in an unnatural position sloshing though puddles.
The sanctuary of our first pavilion didn’t last long. Grace was excited about the sheep for about 10 seconds.
Then one looked at her and Baa-ed.
She started backing away from the animals, finger out wiggling back and forth, with a trail of shrill No No No’s to go with it.
Up Mama. Up. No No No. All Done. No Mama. Up up.
Silly me. I thought she would be excited over the animals.
*Mistake #2*
So we wound our way through craft pavilions filled with yarns in every imaginable hue and texture. It was beautiful, except for the fact that my back was spasming again because Grace refused to walk - in fear of the sheep that are now 100 feet away, not to mention caged and leashed.
Why didn’t I bring the front-pack baby carrier that we’ve only used 2 or 3 times?
*Mistake #3*
After two pavilions, Grace starts to relax and wants to walk.
Fantastic!
Except she no longer wants to be picked up for transport between the pavilions or hold my hand in the crowds. After several smiles from strangers and declarations of her beauty, she has a melt down right in the middle of an entrance.
I can see the smiles melt off strangers faces and she proceeds to have her first official toddleresque lay-down-on-the-ground-screaming-and-flailing-in-a-public-place tantrum ever.
Whatever.
I could care less about the strangers faces, but have you picked up on the fact that we are in an agricultural environment? Her back was now coated in the filth of rainy days and barnyard animals. Which then transferred to me when I hoisted her off the ground.
*Mistake #4*
On the way back to the car she started to do the arching pissed-off baby yoga in my aching arms and I gave in. I put her down on the ground. I crouched down, trying to keep her head dry with my umbrella (and getting poured on myself) while she happily splashed in puddles and got admiring coos from passerbys. (The knitting crowd is an easy target.)
Anyway, in the middle of all the splashing and cooing - splat - down she went. Thankfully it was right before a big puddle, but the shins of her pants are soaked and covered with mud. I gave up on the umbrella and collapsed it for the next portion of the adventure.
Picking up a pissed-off, muddy, wet child who is screaming, doing baby yoga and kicking me in the stomach for my efforts.
*Mistake #5*
We dash through the rain back to our car in the crowded parking lot. It was kind of like being at the mall. I was stalked by and SUV looking for a closer parking spot.
So I'm trying to make a pissed-off, muddy, wet child who is in full blown snot-filled hysterics, sit still so I can buckle her into her car seat - with a car humming and eyes boring holes into the back of my head watching this whole scene take place.
I really did think about just letting her lie on the floor for the 12 minute car ride home.
*Did Not Make Mistake #6*
I wanted to, but I didn't. I held her down until she relaxed enough to snap the belts closed. Then spent 3 more minutes trying to peel off my coat - sweat soaked on the inside and rain soaked on the outside.
And that - dear coworker - was my hour at the Sheep and Wool Festival.
No, no I don't think we'll be going back next year.
Did you go to the Sheep and Wool Festival? How was it? He inquired.
My response? Horrible.
Grace loves making animal noises, so I figured why not go see some sheep. The festival was free and minutes away from my house.
It was pouring rain, but I was prepared for that.
I dressed in capri’s and my super cute donkey boots and outfitted Grace with the knock-off Crocs I bought for the upcoming summer. Neither one of us own a proper rain coat, but we’d be fine with an umbrella. Most of the exhibits are in pavilions anyway.
I was shocked at how many cars there were in the mud filled parking lot. Given the crowds and the aforementioned mud, I decided to skip the stroller.
*Mistake #1*
About ¾ of the way to the first pavilion filled with sheep, my lower back started to spasm. Grace in my left arm, the umbrella being held over us with my right and my spine in an unnatural position sloshing though puddles.
The sanctuary of our first pavilion didn’t last long. Grace was excited about the sheep for about 10 seconds.
Then one looked at her and Baa-ed.
She started backing away from the animals, finger out wiggling back and forth, with a trail of shrill No No No’s to go with it.
Up Mama. Up. No No No. All Done. No Mama. Up up.
Silly me. I thought she would be excited over the animals.
*Mistake #2*
So we wound our way through craft pavilions filled with yarns in every imaginable hue and texture. It was beautiful, except for the fact that my back was spasming again because Grace refused to walk - in fear of the sheep that are now 100 feet away, not to mention caged and leashed.
Why didn’t I bring the front-pack baby carrier that we’ve only used 2 or 3 times?
*Mistake #3*
After two pavilions, Grace starts to relax and wants to walk.
Fantastic!
Except she no longer wants to be picked up for transport between the pavilions or hold my hand in the crowds. After several smiles from strangers and declarations of her beauty, she has a melt down right in the middle of an entrance.
I can see the smiles melt off strangers faces and she proceeds to have her first official toddleresque lay-down-on-the-ground-screaming-and-flailing-in-a-public-place tantrum ever.
Whatever.
I could care less about the strangers faces, but have you picked up on the fact that we are in an agricultural environment? Her back was now coated in the filth of rainy days and barnyard animals. Which then transferred to me when I hoisted her off the ground.
*Mistake #4*
On the way back to the car she started to do the arching pissed-off baby yoga in my aching arms and I gave in. I put her down on the ground. I crouched down, trying to keep her head dry with my umbrella (and getting poured on myself) while she happily splashed in puddles and got admiring coos from passerbys. (The knitting crowd is an easy target.)
Anyway, in the middle of all the splashing and cooing - splat - down she went. Thankfully it was right before a big puddle, but the shins of her pants are soaked and covered with mud. I gave up on the umbrella and collapsed it for the next portion of the adventure.
Picking up a pissed-off, muddy, wet child who is screaming, doing baby yoga and kicking me in the stomach for my efforts.
*Mistake #5*
We dash through the rain back to our car in the crowded parking lot. It was kind of like being at the mall. I was stalked by and SUV looking for a closer parking spot.
So I'm trying to make a pissed-off, muddy, wet child who is in full blown snot-filled hysterics, sit still so I can buckle her into her car seat - with a car humming and eyes boring holes into the back of my head watching this whole scene take place.
I really did think about just letting her lie on the floor for the 12 minute car ride home.
*Did Not Make Mistake #6*
I wanted to, but I didn't. I held her down until she relaxed enough to snap the belts closed. Then spent 3 more minutes trying to peel off my coat - sweat soaked on the inside and rain soaked on the outside.
And that - dear coworker - was my hour at the Sheep and Wool Festival.
No, no I don't think we'll be going back next year.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Single Parenting
Matt flew to Green Bay Saturday morning so first news from the Midwest:
1) Matt is charmed. We bought a 1st class ticket for the flight because it was only $15 more than a regular old chump ticket, and hey, if your going to pay that much money you might as well get some snacks. Well, Matt got a whole lot more than that.
Being the chatty, superstar, sports aficionado that he is, Matt had the good fortune of being seated next to a referee flying out to officiate the Green Bay v Houston game. Over the course of a few hours and a few drinks, they apparently become best friends and he’s offered network seats to the game. Which he of course has to turn down. So business cards are exchanged and now Matt has an in for free awesome tickets to games he wants to go to. PLUS he was served MIXED drinks BEFORE the plane even left the runway.
2) While again, not related to PaPa’s health, his brother Rob, bought a Lotto Scratcher ticket on a whim Friday. Won $10,000. No big deal.
3) PaPa is making improvements. As of this morning, they plan to try and take him off the ventilator. The latest chest X-Rays show the same amount of infection in his lungs, but the respiratory sounds are getting much clearer. The same X-Rays are also indicating that there may be some heart issues, but nothing that they are concerned about right now. The bad news is the doctors are saying that he will be lucky if he’s out in two weeks…. So if you do the math, he might be spending Christmas in the hospital.
On the upside, Matt & Jeanine raided PaPa’s house and cleared out the offending cigars. They were actually able to collect all unopened packages of Swisher’s and return them at the local grocery store. You’ve got to love small towns at times.
Given everything, Gracie and I had a fairly good weekend. Well, except for a few highlights:
1) Gracie is always on the move. I am getting to the point where if I know the baby gate is up on the stairs I just let her run loose and play. We are pretty much baby-proofed. Unless it gets quiet. If more than a minute goes by without noise I know she is into something she’s not supposed to be in.
Case in point, she had stood up and grabbed a glass ornament that I thought was out of reach on the tree. While the glass was still blessedly in tact, she was scraping the glitter swirls off the ornament with her teeth. Although I will admit, the glitter all over her face/mouth/tongue was pretty funny.
2) Saturday night my body decided to kick me one more time. Thankfully, my version of the flu only lasted a few hours, and they were nighttime hours.
I will always remember when I was checked into the hospital to be induced into labor with Grace, my OB asked me what I had eaten for dinner. “Oh I was good. I kept it light. I just had a salad for dinner!”
She looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, probably not the best choice. If you have a second kid remember this – Only eat things that you won’t mind seeing come back up. Oatmeal is my favorite. Let’s just hope you keep it all down through your labor.”
I always thought that was a crazy thing to say. As I was revisiting my healthy salad on Saturday night / Sunday morning those words kept echoing in my head.
3) Sunday morning we went to the mall to Christmas shop. The 20 minute nap she took on the way home completely destroyed her sleep schedule for that afternoon. Normally she sleeps from 11:30 – 2:00. Yesterday, it was 1:15 to 1:45. I apparently added insult to the injury of making her nap by having Tim & Jen over to watch the Bears game when she woke up. This lead to very cranky pants for the following 45 minutes.
Given everything though, I think my first weekend of single parenting went smoothly. At least there was no blood to accompany either of our tears.
1) Matt is charmed. We bought a 1st class ticket for the flight because it was only $15 more than a regular old chump ticket, and hey, if your going to pay that much money you might as well get some snacks. Well, Matt got a whole lot more than that.
Being the chatty, superstar, sports aficionado that he is, Matt had the good fortune of being seated next to a referee flying out to officiate the Green Bay v Houston game. Over the course of a few hours and a few drinks, they apparently become best friends and he’s offered network seats to the game. Which he of course has to turn down. So business cards are exchanged and now Matt has an in for free awesome tickets to games he wants to go to. PLUS he was served MIXED drinks BEFORE the plane even left the runway.
2) While again, not related to PaPa’s health, his brother Rob, bought a Lotto Scratcher ticket on a whim Friday. Won $10,000. No big deal.
3) PaPa is making improvements. As of this morning, they plan to try and take him off the ventilator. The latest chest X-Rays show the same amount of infection in his lungs, but the respiratory sounds are getting much clearer. The same X-Rays are also indicating that there may be some heart issues, but nothing that they are concerned about right now. The bad news is the doctors are saying that he will be lucky if he’s out in two weeks…. So if you do the math, he might be spending Christmas in the hospital.
On the upside, Matt & Jeanine raided PaPa’s house and cleared out the offending cigars. They were actually able to collect all unopened packages of Swisher’s and return them at the local grocery store. You’ve got to love small towns at times.
Given everything, Gracie and I had a fairly good weekend. Well, except for a few highlights:
1) Gracie is always on the move. I am getting to the point where if I know the baby gate is up on the stairs I just let her run loose and play. We are pretty much baby-proofed. Unless it gets quiet. If more than a minute goes by without noise I know she is into something she’s not supposed to be in.
Case in point, she had stood up and grabbed a glass ornament that I thought was out of reach on the tree. While the glass was still blessedly in tact, she was scraping the glitter swirls off the ornament with her teeth. Although I will admit, the glitter all over her face/mouth/tongue was pretty funny.
2) Saturday night my body decided to kick me one more time. Thankfully, my version of the flu only lasted a few hours, and they were nighttime hours.
I will always remember when I was checked into the hospital to be induced into labor with Grace, my OB asked me what I had eaten for dinner. “Oh I was good. I kept it light. I just had a salad for dinner!”
She looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, probably not the best choice. If you have a second kid remember this – Only eat things that you won’t mind seeing come back up. Oatmeal is my favorite. Let’s just hope you keep it all down through your labor.”
I always thought that was a crazy thing to say. As I was revisiting my healthy salad on Saturday night / Sunday morning those words kept echoing in my head.
3) Sunday morning we went to the mall to Christmas shop. The 20 minute nap she took on the way home completely destroyed her sleep schedule for that afternoon. Normally she sleeps from 11:30 – 2:00. Yesterday, it was 1:15 to 1:45. I apparently added insult to the injury of making her nap by having Tim & Jen over to watch the Bears game when she woke up. This lead to very cranky pants for the following 45 minutes.
Given everything though, I think my first weekend of single parenting went smoothly. At least there was no blood to accompany either of our tears.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Miss Idependent. Almost.
The steps are here and independent walking is just around the corner.
Grace has always been impatient. She is a wonderful, smiling baby 95% of the time. That other 5% though you’d better watch out! That little snippet of evil has been rearing its ugly head lately.
Because she wants to walk.
She is fighting to dance and twirl, run and jump, well ... maybe just toddle and crash for right now, but she is fighting to do it all on her own. And she is so, so, so close.
It is the exact same "Why are you screaming for no reason?" response we got when she was learning how to crawl. One minute she is fine, then next she is screaming like her hair is being plucked out. Only now it is for walking.
I’m sure, if she would try, she could stand alone at the point. She will not try though. Gracie is completely engaged with the exercise of actually taking steps and walking now too. She is the one holding onto me now, not the other way around. Yesterday we made 3 laps around the den and
countless laps at daycare.
The purchase of her first shoes has come just in time. Cute, aren’t they? ------>>
This development may have begun just in time for a full blown toddler in the Bahamas too. 1.5 more weeks kid!
While I have repeatedly lamented the transition from babyhood to toddlerdom. Now that the toddling is actually here though, I am excited. I am embracing it.
I think we are even ready for it.
Maybe.
Grace has always been impatient. She is a wonderful, smiling baby 95% of the time. That other 5% though you’d better watch out! That little snippet of evil has been rearing its ugly head lately.
Because she wants to walk.
She is fighting to dance and twirl, run and jump, well ... maybe just toddle and crash for right now, but she is fighting to do it all on her own. And she is so, so, so close.
It is the exact same "Why are you screaming for no reason?" response we got when she was learning how to crawl. One minute she is fine, then next she is screaming like her hair is being plucked out. Only now it is for walking.
I’m sure, if she would try, she could stand alone at the point. She will not try though. Gracie is completely engaged with the exercise of actually taking steps and walking now too. She is the one holding onto me now, not the other way around. Yesterday we made 3 laps around the den and
countless laps at daycare.The purchase of her first shoes has come just in time. Cute, aren’t they? ------>>
This development may have begun just in time for a full blown toddler in the Bahamas too. 1.5 more weeks kid!
While I have repeatedly lamented the transition from babyhood to toddlerdom. Now that the toddling is actually here though, I am excited. I am embracing it.
I think we are even ready for it.
Maybe.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Stretchy Fabrics Are My Friend
It is amazing how self perception can affect your mood.
My clothes are still in the ruins of vacation. While the majority of them did get cleaned, nothing was hung up. Everything is wrinkly again so it is easier to just rewash than iron. My work clothes had been piled up in the dirty laundry basket for a week sharing their smells with each other too.
Given this, I was down to the dregs of my wardrobe yesterday. This translates to only being left with items in my closet that I have a problem with. Too small, too big, too short, too stretched out, too casual, too ugly (why did I buy this in the first place?).
So I went with the best of the worst. Which was a combo of too big (shirt that makes me look even heavier than I am) and too short (pants that look like I am expecting a flood, especially when worn with socks, which I did, and were frankly borline too small.)
I was miserable all day. I have no idea why other than I felt schlumpey.
The fact that I really did gain 5 pounds while back in Chicago doesn’t help either.
I pulled out one of my favorite, most comfy outfits for today though. Straight out of the wrinkled clean bin, but I don’t care. It fits well and I feel good in it. Plus most of the wrinkles have already fallen out.
The point of all this?
An explanation of the irrational before my apology to Matt.
Sorry I’ve been moody honey. Things are much better today. As we both know, a new wardrobe does wonders for my world.
My clothes are still in the ruins of vacation. While the majority of them did get cleaned, nothing was hung up. Everything is wrinkly again so it is easier to just rewash than iron. My work clothes had been piled up in the dirty laundry basket for a week sharing their smells with each other too.
Given this, I was down to the dregs of my wardrobe yesterday. This translates to only being left with items in my closet that I have a problem with. Too small, too big, too short, too stretched out, too casual, too ugly (why did I buy this in the first place?).
So I went with the best of the worst. Which was a combo of too big (shirt that makes me look even heavier than I am) and too short (pants that look like I am expecting a flood, especially when worn with socks, which I did, and were frankly borline too small.)
I was miserable all day. I have no idea why other than I felt schlumpey.
The fact that I really did gain 5 pounds while back in Chicago doesn’t help either.
I pulled out one of my favorite, most comfy outfits for today though. Straight out of the wrinkled clean bin, but I don’t care. It fits well and I feel good in it. Plus most of the wrinkles have already fallen out.
The point of all this?
An explanation of the irrational before my apology to Matt.
Sorry I’ve been moody honey. Things are much better today. As we both know, a new wardrobe does wonders for my world.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)