Monday, May 23, 2011


We've reached an interesting milestone with our little angel-the one where his day care teachers point out that "his favorite thing is grabbing toys from other kids" and ask me if he's throwing tantrums at home.  Um....yes.  The toy grabbing is bothering me.  I mean, from what I read, and from what they tell me at day care, there's really not a whole lot you can do at this age, because they don't understand sharing.  So we do what day care does-when he grabs something, we take it from him, tell him no, give it back to the kid he grabbed it from, and try to distract him with something else.

This cycle repeats until the kid who had the toy in the first place gets tired of it and abandons the damn thing, at which point, Henry decides he doesn't want it, either.

So we're doing what we can, but nobody wants to have the kid that grabs toys.  At least he's not biting.  Feel free to give advice in the comments section, because I'm really at a loss here.  Or at least assure me that by the time he goes to kindergarten, he will understand what we're trying to say to him.  As Ben put it, "You can't really teach a kid when he doesn't understand the words coming out of your mouth."  But you also don't want the jerk kid that all the other parents talk about who progresses to clocking kids with toys and, I don't know, pushing them into mud puddles.

We've also told the teachers to feel free to put him in a crib or off somewhere during the tantrums to let him thrash it out.  I've assured them that he doesn't get everything he wants at home, and we certainly aren't the kind of parents who let a kid show their ass and act up and just say "OH, isn't that DARLING, he's asserting his independence!"  Um, no.  But I'm not sure they believe us.  Honestly, I think he gets his way more at school than at home, because, despite his occasional crabbiness, he is a pretty funny kid and finds a way to be absolutely adorable right when you're at the point where you curl up into the fetal position amongst the laundry he's thrown out of the basket (again) and cry.  The other day he wrecked the house, then crawled over to me and gave me a hug.

Which is what assures me that though he may look like me, he got his dad's personality 100%.  That's basically the same technique Ben used to get me to forgive him for fights when we were dating.

In other news, you've all read about this rapture thing.  I posted what I felt was a very funny picture involving Randy "Macho Man" Savage on my facebook page, and was told by more than one person that it was NOT FUNNY.  I don't know, I still think it is.  And I like to think God has a sense of humor, or else he probably would have put an end to this whole mess called Earth already.  Let's face it, as a species, we can really be assholes.  But I make fun of pretty much everything, including (and most often) myself.  Ah, well.  People don't appreciate that photoshop, and I don't understand how people on my friends list "like" Sarah Palin.  To each their own.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Crying it Out: Part Deux

We're getting over another double ear infection and cold over here, and I'm faced with another round of breaking bad sleep habits.  Henry had a fever and was just in general feeling pretty crappy, last week I don't think he slept for two hours straight at any point.  Of course, this led to massive exhaustion on my part.  When a coworker talks to you for five minutes and then says "What do you think?"  and after a brief pause, you respond "Um....what?"  it may be time to get some rest.

But of course, now Henry is in the habit of me coming to get him every time he cries, whether it's to administer ibuprofen, change him, feed him, whatever.  He seems to feel fine, so I know we're just going to have to tough it out for another few days and let him work it out.  Today I laid him down for his nap, and he started wailing.  I went to take a bath, and to shave various areas of myself.  Don't want to get too detailed about my personal hygiene, but I think I was in danger of being mistaken for a Sasquatch, shot, stuffed, and placed in the Natural History Museum.

He wailed the entire time.  And he's really worked on his lung capacity-just when you think they can't get any louder, they do.  Finally settled down and, aside from some sniffling, seems to be down for the count now.

In other news, it's wedding season and I'm dress shopping, and I have to say, what the fuck is wrong with people who design clothes?  I just want a normal dress.  A NORMAL DRESS.  The few I've found online are sold out, and everything else looks like a freaking peacock mated with an army tent.  I don't really get empire waist if you're not pregnant.  Because quite frankly, they make you look pregnant even if you're super slim.   And given the slight (maybe not slight) muffin top I'm still rocking, the last thing I need is something to make that area look bigger.  But damn near everything is empire waist-or so short that I may as well just rock a shirt and no pants and call myself fashionable.  (Nobody wants to see that).

Oh well.  I may have to suck it up and actually head out to a store to look for something.  I hate shopping, but here we are.  Online can only get you so far.  At least I can give Henry a chance to test out the screaming on his dad for an afternoon.  Pretty sure he gets that from his side of the family anyway.

Friday, May 6, 2011

We're Back. And I Mean it This Time.

Ok.  So school is over for the semester, and I actually have the summer off. From classes, anyway.  I'll hopefully be posting more often.  And things are getting more interesting, so it all works out!  The only thing that doesn't is that now naps have gotten less frequent, and moving is becoming....more alarming.  The days of "oh, I'll just set him here and do some dishes" are OVER.

I don't really get why people freak out about the first few months of motherhood. I mean, yes, it's a big change and a big family adjustment.  But...the kid can't DO anything.  If you leave them in the crib, chances are, when you get back, they'll still be there.  Not that I'm advocating leaving your kid in the crib for an extended period of time, like for a run to the grocery store or Vegas. I'm just saying if you wanted to do a load of laundry, you could.

Not anymore.  Henry is on the cusp of walking, and is getting into everything.  He has little interest in his toys, and strength that makes me concerned that he's doing Pilates or something in his crib.  The other day he broke a plastic coat hanger in half, and has thrown his baby gate and his scooter admirable distances.

He's figuring himself out, and we're struggling to keep up.  Here comes the issue of discipline-he's at the age where he could really cause himself a lot of harm if he gets into the wrong things (which he loves to do) but doesn't understand the warnings.  And yes, I understand babyproofing and we've done what we can, but this kid has no bounds, and I think the safest thing would be to remove everything from the house altogether.

Except that he'd still find a way to pull himself up and bang his head and fall down, and we've got to learn to deal with that ourselves.  Life takes some knocks.  And I always said I wanted any child of Ben and myself to live a little more like their dad-he's always been much more open to new experiences and choices, even when they've knocked him on his ass a time or two.  My husband has plenty of scars, but I doubt he regrets them much.  Getting beat up is the price of living a full life, and I want my son to have a full life.

Don't you just hate when the world gives you exactly what you wish for?