Wild Wednesday

I am starting "Wild Wednesday" because Jude and I have been watching a lot of nature shows, and I find myself completely enthralled by some of the creatures out there. Jude is, too...in his way. He likes the colors and the sounds...watches for a bit, then turns to me and smiles, then watches again. Perhaps I am raising an animal enthusiast.

Today's installment belongs to the female Strawberry Poison Dart frog, because she is not only beautiful, but is also a very good mother (and I LOVE her blue legwarmers).



Watch and smile... :)

Who has been slightly exploiting the fact that her son can say "mom" at 2 months old? Certainly not me. In fact, I do not tell anyone who will listen or brag a little bit about it either.

I have not singlehandedly eaten an entire container full of Christmas goodies, nor have I been known to sneak and smuggle even though there is no one around to catch me. Such a heinous act. Tut-tut.

I do not giggle when my son notices the television, and I do not think it's even funnier when he zones out while staring at it. I make sure to put a stop to his TV watching right away, and I definitely don't change it to Spongebob just for him. Uh-uh.

I do NOT allow my son to sleep in his Boppy pillow because he will not sleep in his crib. I do not have the Boppy pillow so rigged up that it is the perfect bed, and he does not sleep like a dream in it.

I am not even ashamed.

Nope...not me.

Stealth Poop and Momma Fail...

Let me just start this post by saying that I am really a very good mother. My child is happy and healthy, very intelligent and well adjusted. He knows his needs will always be met...I am at his beck and call. 3am, and I have a bottle warming. He even looks like he is gonna poop and I am warming the wipes. Snuggles and songs and books and conversations are a constant thing. I dance like a fool for him (which seriously frightens the dog and various other people who catch sight of this ritual), I make up stupid songs for him, I love him so much my heart hurts...

But...

All mommies screw up sometimes, right?

8-/

Yesterday was a nice, calm day. Jude had been going through a growth spurt which made him cranky and hungry and just plain miserable, but yesterday? He was lovely. Didn't say boo...napped like a champ.

At suppertime, he sat with us in his baby chair and looked around happily. I jiggled the kitchen lamp so that he could watch the light patterns on the ceiling, he talked to himself and played with his toys.

After supper I fed him and he fussed a little. No big deal.

At around 9pm, I decided to change his diaper and put him down for the night, and what did I find?

Poop, that's what.

Poor little man had been wearing a poopy diaper for who the heck knows how long. I didn't smell it. I didn't see him scrunch up his face and turn red (pooping is usually a production). But, there was definitely poop. I apologized profusely as I rocked him to sleep and felt like a terrible mother.

Jude, thinking that his mother sucks.

But, today was the real momma fail.

Jude came to Walmart/grocery store with us for some last minute Christmas shopping. He loves his carseat, and usually sleeps the entire time we are out...including the transfers from car to cart, etc.

Well, we were out too long, I guess (epic fail #1) and he woke up hungry. I had decided to wait with Jude in the car instead of hauling him into yet another cart, so when he began crying, I jumped into action and grabbed the bottle we'd brought along just in case. Jude took a few long, hard and very relieved draws on the nipple and then let go and screamed louder! What the heck? Then I realized...the formula was cold (epic fail #2).

So, how do you warm a bottle in the car when the car is not running and you are wrangling a very angry, snowsuited infant? You shove it in your cleavage. And, when that doesn't work because your boobs are just not what they used to be, your armpit. Uh huh. I so did it, and it worked. I love it when success comes out of failure.

And while I am confessing...I have been known to help Jude to suck the thumb he very dearly wants to suck. He can get his hand there no problem, but he always forgets to stick out his thumb. So, I stick it out for him and he munches away.

Yes, I am an enabler.

Sue me.

*Siiiigh*

Babylegs!!

I just couldn't wait, so Jude got a pair early...



Oh my. Something about encasing those little frog legs in baby legwarmers makes my heart sing.

Flipper-pits...

Aside from being a wonderful pseudo-swear word...("Awwww, Flipper-pits!")...it is also the part of a manatee's body from which its young feed. Apparently, they have nipples in their pits! What could be more awesome?

The Sarcastic Fringehead has been replaced for now. Manatees are now banging their pudding-noses on my funnybone, and have subsequently nestled deeply into my heart.



Someday, I will go to Florida to swim with them. I have no desire to swim with dolphins. Dolphins are like the popular kids. If they were people, they would be cheerleaders and floutists...flitting from place to place in giggling groups. Living out loud.

Manatees would play the tuba. They would be the overweight, funny looking, far-from-graceful bottom-feeders silently sitting at the lunch table closest to the canteen. Much more intriguing than those who live out loud. What is your secret? What are you into? Who are you, really?




To all the manatees out there, (human and not), I love you. :)

He's like the wind...

Slices of Life (and Christmas is Coming!!)

As I sit here, there is a chubby-cheeked baby on the bed beside me. He is talking to himself, flirting with everything he can see and trying to eat his fist. He is 8 weeks old now, which means:

1) Sleeping through the night almost every night.
2) He can now suck his thumb and put his own soother back into his mouth (mostly backwards).
3) His hair is starting to fall out, and what is coming in looks decidedly lighter.
4) He looks more like me.
5) His hands are stinky ALL the time because he is always putting them in his mouth (and I can't stop sniffing them because they smell lovely to me...)
6) He naps in his boppy pillow.



7) He can polish off 5 ounces of formula and still want more.
8) He flirts with EVERYTHING.
9) He says "mumumum" with intent, now...when he wakes up, or when someone else is holding him and he turns his body toward me, scrunching his face up, imploring me to take him back.
10) He is cuter and cuter every single day.


Oh, how I love this child.

The past few weeks we have been competing with Siberia in the "holy-shit-is-it-ever-cold" category. Then, last night the wind started coming from the south and it's gorgeous. I wandered outside at 1am and the temperature was climbing. It had snowed a little, but smelled like rain. The air was almost balmy and I could smell the trees stirring awake...as though surfacing momentarily from a long, deep sleep.

I did all of my Christmas shopping online this year, and I am really happy with what I bought. I did much better than I would have if I'd had to hit the stores with a baby in tow. I especially love my purchases for Jude.

I got 4 pairs of Babylegs:


Not only are these adorable, but they keep those chubby legs warm while making diaper changes easy as pie.

I also purchased the Twilight Turtle so that Jude always has stars. It makes a bedroom into a universe, and when the child is older can be used as a night light. :)



I went a little crazy buying onesies from Threadless.
(Ooooh, onesies. Be still my beating heart...)

So, whether he knows it or not, Jude is going to have a great first Christmas. Complete with several embarrassing Christmas outfits. ;)

Merry Christmas to all... :D

Gratuitous

Riot Gear

Wake up
Put on my riot gear
But in the study of my house
I've got a smoking jacket passed to me from Grand Daddy
It's made of bow and arrow meat

Do do do do do do
Do do do do do do

Come home
Take off my riot gear
Put on my smoke jacket
But in the library of my house I have a laugh
Medieval jokes are just as funny now
If you've got a degree

Heaven help the ones who know
What makes the world go slow

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock

The night comes
Time to go on the town
And in my best
Sashimi dress
And marble arch supporting shoes
I am a vision in my horse-drawn tank

Da da da da da da
Da da da da da da

Stay out
Drinking into the night
And they are saying those same things
And I'm like "Ha, ha, ha, hee, hee, hee"
'Til half-past three
And then it's time for me to go

Heaven help the ones who know
What makes the world go slow
What makes the world go slow

Come home
Take off my tuna dress
Put on my collard greens
And in my sleep
What dreams may come
Before I'm woken by alarms
Put on my riot gear

Regina Spektor


(I am really into this song right now...yum...)

Remember this?

*swoon*

For the past 2 weeks, I have been re-watching this show during Jude's latenight feedings. I'll admit that I really got into it, and even thought about sneaking upstairs to watch more when Jude WASN'T eating a few times.

Seriously...who is more awesome than Dean Cain? And Teri Hatcher as Lois...bang on. The special effects leave a lot to be desired, but heck, it was 1995, and I spent just as much time giggling over what passed for a bolt of lightning back then as I did smiling over the incredibly sweet love story.




I will leave you with the age-old question:




...Clark Kent or Superman?

:)

Megaira

Upon awakening,
she unfurled into a fury.
An owlish grudge against the sun
brought forth a pointed,
poison-tongued,
wild-winged frenzy.

Snarling, hissing snakes of hair
would not be calmed.
Only shrieks brought solace
to those infernal,
hungry mouths;
though fire-bellies smouldered still...
beneath the crimson carnage
of scorned flesh and scaly,
wind scorched
winter skin.

And soon, a gentle silence lost itself,
as a pitter patter (flutter-slither)
clattered visciously
in a sun-warmed kitchen...

as an unasked for morning
birthed an illegitimate afternoon.

~M.R

This is an elderly poem. I am putting it here simply to remind myself of where I was 4 years ago...the miserable shell of what was once a human being.

I vow to never find myself surrounded in that darkness again.

*The image above freaks me out. What in heaven's name happened to her...um...girl parts? *shiver*

2 in the bed and the little one said...

Well...he doesn't say much, really.

The occasional accidental "mumumum"...and "hah-GOO!"...and lotsa "waaaaaaah"ing when he is tired but thinks he isn't. But, that is beside the point. This post is not about how much my 7 week old son talks...(even if he IS brilliant) (I mean, really) it is about co-sleeping, and our nocturnal goings-on.

This kid has had sleep issues since day 1. He is so alert that asking him to sleep would be like asking me to roll around in the snow with just a bathing suit on. Wait. I have done that. Bad example.

Put it this way: Sleep, to Jude, is R-I-D-I-C-U-L-O-U-S! And mommy is T-I-R-E-D. In the best of ways, mind you. Somehow I cannot be upset when naptime, for example, looks like this:




He cracks me up, my little dude. But, at 3am, it starts to get a little less funny, and a little more wearing.

Recently, bedtime has been a wrestling match between willful baby and exhausted mommy. I don't even have to tell you who wins. Baby is in his crib dozing by 10pm, awakens at 10:10, mommy obediently trots in to soothe, etc ( because I am not of the "let him cry it out" philosophy), baby dozes again, mommy sneaks out, baby awakens at 10:21, and so on and so on and so on.

And don't even get me started on the calamity that ensues when I try to sneak in to go to bed myself. ("Mumumum...waaaaaaaah...")

As a result of all this, about a week ago I started invouluntarily falling asleep mid-feeding and Jude realized that he REALLY (REALLY!) likes sleeping on my chest. A lot. More than in his lovely crib. Or his cradle. And then, in an effort to get some peaceful shut-eye, I began putting him to sleep on my chest purposely, and loved every second of having him so close...(a far cry from when he was first born and I was terrified to hold him at all, lest I hurt him)

Boy, did I feel guilty. What a terrible mother. I mean, cuddling my baby to sleep and then extending that cuddle all night? Diabolical! Lulling my son (and myself) into a 6 hour, restful snooze? Evil!

I felt so bad that I shamefully googled co-sleeping, and you know what?? A lot of people do the same thing in an effort to get some rest! In fact, some people do it just because they melt at the the feeling of a limp little bundle of sleepiness tucked against them. It is kangaroo care at its finest. There are even studies that suggest co-sleeping in any form promotes normal breathing patterns in infants, effectively reducing sleep apnea. Because, while co-sleeping, a baby and his/her mommy are in perfect sync...the baby imitates mommy's breathing patterns and his/her temperature is regulated by mommy's, provided the baby is in a sleeper without a blanket. So, yay!

The funny thing is....after a week of having my little fella wonderfully close at night, he has begun sleeping like a champ in his crib. No muss, no fuss.

So, that's that.

(and boy, do I miss him...)

About Time...

Look what finally happened...




Yay!!

Animal Farm...

We live in a George Orwell novel...

1. Whatever goes upon two legs is an enemy.
2. Whatever goes upon four legs, or has wings, is a friend.
3. No animal shall wear clothes.
4. No animal shall sleep in a bed.
5. No animal shall drink alcohol.
6. No animal shall kill any other animal.
7. All animals are equal.

Around here, these commandments are broken repeatedly. The dog has more outfits than I do, and the animals clearly sleep in the beds. The cats hunt the denizens of the backyard (especially those with wings), and Squeaker (the elderly matriarch) beats on Rory (the youngish upstart) frequently.

The only thing they don't do is drink alcohol. But if we let them, they would.

Pretty soon they will be walking on two legs and morphing into creatures more like human beings.




If they decide to take over, we are royally screwed.

Oh boy...

If this child ever decides to be bad, I will be helpless. Could you yell at him?





I know I couldn't.