So, you know that really cute pink laptop I got less than three weeks ago? The one with the really fast processor and 4MB of RAM?
Yeah...
The operating system crashed on it and all is lost. And as it's month-end/quarter-end/mid-year-end at work, it couldn't possibly have happened at a worse time.
I'll be bringing it back to work tomorrow to ask one of my buddies in IT to work some magic and reinstall all the good stuff I need.
In the meantime, I'm hitting the hay early because tomorrow is going to be a loooooong day...
The Boy's teachers have remarked that his fine motor skills are very well-developed, and that he may be ready for playdough. Not willing to buy the brightly colored stuff in the bright yellow canisters (only because I'm paranoid that he'll eat it and like it - and I don't know what's in that stuff), I made some of my own.
In case you didn't know, homemade playdough isn't terrible to make, but cleanup can be a pain. My version was a combination of baking soda (2 cups), cornstarch (1 cup) and water (1-1/4 cups), all cooked together until a sticky ball formed. Of course, you need to stir constantly, otherwise you'll end up with a burnt mass of playdough (this did not happen to me, thank God).
Once it cooled, The Boy watched me knead the white pasty stuff with some interest. I took a little piece and offered it to him, which promptly went into his mouth - only to be rejected instantly. I guess baking soda isn't his favorite flavor. At any rate, he lost all interest in the stuff and hurried off to find other toys that didn't taste as terrible.
But now I wonder if I'll be able to get him interested in playing with the homemade playdough. Don't get me wrong - I'm thrilled he didn't want to eat it. But that does me no good if he's not even interested in playing with it!
Chris woke me to let me know that a dog tried to get into the garage when he took out the trash this morning. Apparently, he tried to play with the trash bag, too, so Chris had to make sure he put it in the can before setting it out on the curb. Chris said the dog had a collar and tags, so he belonged to somebody, only at 6AM, there were no humans accompanying it.
Sure enough, when I opened the garage door this morning, I was greeted by a very energetic neighbor:
He let himself into the garage, sniffed around (presumably to make sure we weren't holding out on him), then tried to jump into the car after I safely secured The Boy. I don't think The Boy saw him, though; he was rather engrossed in his This Animal Says... toy. There's no telling what might have happened if The Boy actually spotted the dog.
As you can see from the photo, he's a happy dog (albeit a little tired or bored - I caught him mid-yawn) and clearly has his tags. He also tried to make himself at home in the garage, and I had to keep shooing him out.
Terrified that I might hit the dog (that would be fun to explain to my neighbors, whomever they may be), I backed out really slowly. He was sitting on the grass, watching my car back out of the garage, then eyeing the garage door as it lowered. Thankfully, he didn't try to run in as the door closed (and yes, I made sure that door was completely down before I continued on my way.
I'm not entirely certain this is the same dog Chris encountered earlier this morning. I'm hoping it is, only because I don't want to think about dogs running amock in the neighborhood. All the same, I couldn't help but wonder why he was out - and where are his humans?
Show us something in your house from the 1970s.
I laugh at this question because so much of my parents' old house (the one where I grew up) was decorated in the 1970s and never updated. In fact, I think the old wallpaper was still on the walls when my parents sold it in 2002 or so. Mind you, by then, the green shag carpet had been replaced with a muted tan berber (it made the house look completely different), but the majority of that house was like a time capsule.
[sigh] Good times!
This morning, I counted The Boy's cloth diapers. I'm not sure exactly why I decided I needed to count them, but I do count them from time to time to make sure I have all 15 of them. Again, I'm not certain where they would go since he's only wearing them at home - and the times he goes out wearing them, he's always with Chris or me, anyway - but I think that can just be chalked up to one of my (many) neuroses.
Anyway, I counted them. "There's seven in the stack, he diritied one this morning, he's wearing one now, there's two in the diaper backpack, and there's two in the laundry room. But that's only 13! Where could the other two be?"
Believe it or not, this weighed heavily on my mind for much of the day. We went to visit Shirley this morning (she's moving well, lucid, and as talkative as ever, all good signs), and returned in time for me to take a nap. (The Boy, incidentally, doesn't like to see Mommy napping. He kept poking at my hands - even though I was snuggling Tommy Bear - to wake me.) Then it was time for his nap, then dinner time, then tubby time, then bedtime. And then I had some unwind time to read a book while I had the laundry running.
But thoughts of the missing diapers were still too much, and I finally emptied out (most of the things in) the laundry basket, searching for those two missing diapers. One diaper - fully assembled - was next to the laundry basket on the floor. The other was just in the laundry, just now verified when I moved everything into the dryer and carefully counted the nine diapers coming out of the wash (there's five in the stack, one on him, and nine in the dryer, for the grand total of 15).
Of course, I've got all this folded laundry to put away now, but at least I've accounted for all 15 diapers.
If only I could say the same about his shoe that I managed to misplace two weeks ago...
I'm a little ashamed I didn't stop (or really think) to take pictures, but there it is.
Anyway, I had a house full of little boys and their moms today. It was really just three other little boys and their mothers, but four wee 'uns are a lot to handle - even when the Mommy to kid ratio is 1:1! I have no idea how the teachers manage it at daycare.
My friend Alyne brought her little boy (let's just call him C), Jen brought her little boy E, and Jen's friend Erica brought her little boy J. (One of the moms that I like from daycare initially accepted the invitation but canceled at the last minute because she and her husband were meeting with a realtor today. It wasn't a big deal, and we're still planning on getting together for a playdate, anyway.)
The Boy was a little taken aback when everyone arrived at once. He's used to seeing adults coming to our house (usually the same group again and again), but seeing the kids kind of threw him off. It was a good half hour before he was comfortable enough to get off of my lap and join the others. J started playing with toys right away, then E joined in, then C, and finally, after much persusasion, The Boy began playing, too. I found this particularly interesting because this is his house and his toys, but he was very cautious about the whole thing.
Once he warmed up, I enjoyed watching them all play in tandem.
Some observations:
- Kids this age don't really grasp the concept of "mine" or "yours", which is nice. But they also don't understand the concept of not taking something from somebody else, or using something already in use.
- The Boy certainly has his favorite people. He cuddled with Alyne for a good part of the afternoon, but wasn't interested in cuddling with Jen (whom he's seen numerous times) or Erica.
- Kids this age like to do what the other kids are doing. Alyne said that C ate more chicken at lunch today while watching The Boy eat than he did all day yesterday. Meanwhile, The Boy became very interested in certain books on the bookshelf because he watched J continuously take them off the shelf. As soon as J left, The Boy made a beeline for the bookshelf and attempted to take down several of the same books.
- Kids this age will accept boundary reinforcement from anyone. It's not just limited to Mommy. This is a nice thing if all the adults are on the same page and are okay with other Moms enforcing boundaries for their kids. It's also kind of funny to watch.
I also noticed that The Boy is a very careful child in walking and in play. Movements are very deliberate for this child.
Oh, and the most coveted toy of the afternoon? It was the handle of a bucket that houses all of The Boy's Monster Blocks. The Boy managed to take it offf the container after lunch, and the kids each took a turn at creatively playing with it.
Some things will never cease to amaze me.
Thus sayeth The Boy (I think - stuff gets lost in translation, you know).
I hear him in his room, clicking on the buttons of the musical toy in his crib, the base of his mobile long after the circling jungle animals were removed from his far-reaching grasp.
He pauses every now and then to cry out, letting everyone near and far know that he does not want to be in his room, and certainly not in his crib - and that he is certainly not tired. Never mind that he has been rubbing his eyes and is increasingly all around cranky. No, this child does not want to sleep, and all should know what torture I, as his mother, am making him endure by removing him to a quiet, darkened room, for what he clearly does not need or want: rest.
The cries don't last long; they're the cries of a sleepy little boy who continues to insist that he's not at all tired. They're short in duration, stopping for a few minutes before resuming, each time getting a bit quieter.
Eventually, he'll cry himself to sleep. Right now, though, he's strongly protesting the notion that he needs to rest in the middle of the morning.
(Now I can hear him blowing raspberries, something else to keep him awake. This is a new tactic.)
One day, God willing, the tables will turn and he will tell me that I need to slow down, take it easy, maybe rest. I only hope I'm still keen enough to remind him of days like these, days when I have to struggle to get him to sleep for just a few blessed minutes.
What's this? There's silence from the nursery?
Could it be that Mommy does know what she's talking about?
Nah... He must have just changed his mind.
Several months ago, a former coworker gave The Boy a bear wearing a Who T-shirt. Because of the shirt and the fact that I have no originality, we've named the bear "Tommy Bear".
This is the first stuffed animal he actually cuddled, and he has since taken to cuddling with Tommy Bear (and other stuffed animals) when the mood strikes. It doesn't strike very often (he's much more fond of balloons when he's lucky enough to have them, and of balls, which are his new favorite things to carry, toss, and roll), but when it does, it's quite endearing. The snuggling always includes a number of kisses to Tommy Bear's nose.
Tonight, when I put him down, he seemed to have trouble settling. I'm still letting him wean himself from the breast, but I'm no longer giving him a pacifier at night. This started last week, but it's only been a problem for the past couple of nights. Of course, he could also be perfectly fine without the pacifier; after all, he went to bed after 7:30 last night and tonight, so it could very well be a self-soothing issue. Either way, the past two nights haven't been easy on us.
Anyway, after I put him in his crib and finished our nighttime ritual (complete with Goodnight Moon and a song), I dimmed the lights and left the room. For a few minutes, he was fine. But then the crying began, and I knew it was because he was having trouble soothing himself. I waited a few more minutes, then came back into his room, softly hushing his cries, and offered Tommy Bear before one more goodnight, and I left the room.
The crying continued for another five minutes, then The Boy settled once more. I just went into his room to check on him, and he had turned himself around in the crib - but he was sound asleep and holding Tommy Bear's foot.
What interests me most is what tomorrow morning may bring. The Boy could very well be elated to have a friend in his crib, or he may dismiss Tommy Bear altogether and we'd jump right into our routine without a second glance.
I'm just hoping Tommy Bear will be enough to keep The Boy settled so he can soothe himself back to sleep in the event he awakes at 4:30 again.
What is your personal motto?
It's something I learned from Mom:
"This is something I chose."
Repeating that several times keeps me from complaining, because, at the end of the day, whatever it is, it's usually an outcome of a choice I consciously made.
During my carpool this morning, I realized something unique to parents but especially unique to mothers:
We're comfortable talking about our offspring's poop and pee in everyday conversation - and are actually comfortable (sometimes interested) when listening to someone talk about their offspring's poop and pee, as well.
Upon further examination of my own ramblings, I noticed that I've made numerous references over the past year to my son's poop and pee, but I don't think I would have found any of it interesting or appropriate blogging fodder before The Boy was born.
It's true, then. Having a baby changes everything.
