It looks like Jett is enjoying this about as much as he'd enjoy a meal of asparagus and mushrooms, but actually he had fun stirring the cereal in the pot and pealing the banana by himself - which he did for the very first time. Elmo taught him that.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
What's for Dinner When Mom is Sick
cereal in a pot and a banana
It looks like Jett is enjoying this about as much as he'd enjoy a meal of asparagus and mushrooms, but actually he had fun stirring the cereal in the pot and pealing the banana by himself - which he did for the very first time. Elmo taught him that.
It looks like Jett is enjoying this about as much as he'd enjoy a meal of asparagus and mushrooms, but actually he had fun stirring the cereal in the pot and pealing the banana by himself - which he did for the very first time. Elmo taught him that.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Recap
Or: What Can Happen When You are in Your Last Three Weeks of Pregnancy
1. You can get trapped under ground.
2. You can get inappropriately oggled.
3. Your stroller can get stolen.
4. You can get the flu.
Ok, I'm done complaining, that was the end of it.
Future posts will be all about Jett. Happiness coming soon.
1. You can get trapped under ground.
2. You can get inappropriately oggled.
3. Your stroller can get stolen.
4. You can get the flu.
Ok, I'm done complaining, that was the end of it.
Future posts will be all about Jett. Happiness coming soon.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Stolen
Last weekend we bought a double stroller. It has a lot of bells and whistles and is kind of an indulgence, so it took a long time for us to decide to buy it. Hours of internet research and then three hours in the store, to be exact.
The store we bought it from is a toy store in a fancy mall on Michigan Ave. They have great customer service there, and tons of strollers set up for you to try out and push around. Still, we didn't think it would take that long to decide which one to buy. I had resigned myself to a much less-expensive stroller - but thank goodness the less expensive stroller wouldn't fit a newborn. Then I had an excuse to look at the higher-end strollers.
So Charlie manages Jett in the store while I start quizzing the stroller guy on the strollers - weight, width, which can hold both a newborn and a toddler, how easy they are to fold, etc. After about 45 minutes, Charlie and I switch. I occupy Jett at the train table and Charlie test drives all of the strollers.
I'm telling you, it is insane how much time you can spend picking out a stroller.
It's also insane that there is no perfect stroller out there. The one that is narrowest (so it can fit through a doorway) might have the most useless sunshade. The lightest stroller is the hardest to fold. So even before you've purchased a stroller, you're already prioritizing some crucial stroller feature over another equally crucial feature. I know, I know, this sounds insane. I think we spent less time agonizing over our car.
Anyway, after we had both checked out the strollers we eat lunch at Potbelly's to mull it all over. Then again we take turns - one of us rides up and down the escalators with Jett while the other one checks out our top choices. The rest of our decision making process happens in 30 second intervals, between the time that Jett steps off the down escalator and steps on to the up escalator. I think we spent 30 minutes talking in 30 second intervals.
The stroller is fab. It's easy to fold. It will carry two toddlers or a toddler and a newborn. But it's no bigger than a single stroller. Which means when we went to the zoo the next day, we fit through the doors of the primate house with hardly any effort. Steering is dreamy. It floats over small boulders and dances around corners and Jett likes it.
I spent the weekend visualizing my summer with this stroller. The baby laying down, sleeping peacefully, Jett up front, rocking his favorite outfit: pajama shirt, diaper, and shoes, and me, glam mom, walking to the park with my babes in my practical yet glam urban stroller.
Then yesterday, in the middle of the day, I parked my daydreamy stroller behind a closed gate, on my sister-in-law's porch, for 45 minutes, and somebody stole it.
I think the CTA stole my stroller. It was making them look bad.
The store we bought it from is a toy store in a fancy mall on Michigan Ave. They have great customer service there, and tons of strollers set up for you to try out and push around. Still, we didn't think it would take that long to decide which one to buy. I had resigned myself to a much less-expensive stroller - but thank goodness the less expensive stroller wouldn't fit a newborn. Then I had an excuse to look at the higher-end strollers.
So Charlie manages Jett in the store while I start quizzing the stroller guy on the strollers - weight, width, which can hold both a newborn and a toddler, how easy they are to fold, etc. After about 45 minutes, Charlie and I switch. I occupy Jett at the train table and Charlie test drives all of the strollers.
I'm telling you, it is insane how much time you can spend picking out a stroller.
It's also insane that there is no perfect stroller out there. The one that is narrowest (so it can fit through a doorway) might have the most useless sunshade. The lightest stroller is the hardest to fold. So even before you've purchased a stroller, you're already prioritizing some crucial stroller feature over another equally crucial feature. I know, I know, this sounds insane. I think we spent less time agonizing over our car.
Anyway, after we had both checked out the strollers we eat lunch at Potbelly's to mull it all over. Then again we take turns - one of us rides up and down the escalators with Jett while the other one checks out our top choices. The rest of our decision making process happens in 30 second intervals, between the time that Jett steps off the down escalator and steps on to the up escalator. I think we spent 30 minutes talking in 30 second intervals.
The stroller is fab. It's easy to fold. It will carry two toddlers or a toddler and a newborn. But it's no bigger than a single stroller. Which means when we went to the zoo the next day, we fit through the doors of the primate house with hardly any effort. Steering is dreamy. It floats over small boulders and dances around corners and Jett likes it.
I spent the weekend visualizing my summer with this stroller. The baby laying down, sleeping peacefully, Jett up front, rocking his favorite outfit: pajama shirt, diaper, and shoes, and me, glam mom, walking to the park with my babes in my practical yet glam urban stroller.
Then yesterday, in the middle of the day, I parked my daydreamy stroller behind a closed gate, on my sister-in-law's porch, for 45 minutes, and somebody stole it.
I think the CTA stole my stroller. It was making them look bad.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
Friday, April 18, 2008
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Inappropriate Response
Tuesday morning on the way to work I was trapped underground for two hours. It was hot, dirty, and dark. You may have heard about it. Mechanical problems on a train in front of ours.
Thankfully I had a seat, a magazine, and cell phone reception. Actually, a number of people on my train car were thankful for my cell phone reception. Most importantly, I thank god that I didn't have to pee.
When they finally told us we could leave the train we had to walk along a narrow walkway about 6 feet above the train tracks - but still underground. It was flithy. And dark. And there was debris on the walkway. And I'm 36 weeks pregnant, which meant that someone carried my backpack for me and less people complained when my back-pack carrying friend insisted that I cut in front of most people standing in line, waiting to get out of the train tunnel. Pregnancy has it's privelages.
We had to climb up a winding, wet, dirty, staircase. Then we had to climb up a ladder and through a hole in the sidewalk that is usually covered by a grate that requires the fire department to open.
So Tuesday morning I got on the bus at say 7:50 or 8:00 and made it through the hole that opened up onto the side walk at 10:15. I got to work by 10:45, after walking the rest of the way there.
Then the president of the CTA blamed the riders for the fact that it took so long to rescue us from a sealed capsule in the middle of the earth. Classy.
At the end of the day a friend and I got home by sharing a cab.
Wednesday morning I got back on the train and surprise, surprise, it was practically empty compared to rush hour standards. How the rest of the usual train riders got to work I do not know, but I should have been with them. I sit down in an aisle seat facing forward, about 3 rows back from a door, in the middle of the train. This guy gets on at the third stop and still, no one is standing in the aisles, there is still lots of room on the train. But this dude walks up to my seat, kneels down next to it, rests his forearm on my chair, wraps his other arm around his knees so that his fingers are almost touching my bare legs (I'm wearing a skirt today, of course) and looks at me. I am completely pissed because I already had to deal with the CTA yesterday and now this? Are you kidding me? Two days in a row of feeling unsafe on the CTA?
I scoot over in my seat away from the kneeling dude, which means I'm totally invading the space of the guy next to me who is just trying to read his book. I apologize, he sees what's going on, says it's ok, and goes back to reading. Apparently I have to handle this one by myself, which doesn't phase me. I'm so angry now I'm pretty sure I could handle anything thrown at me. I look at the kneeling creep and ask him to stand up please and he just looks at me. I ask him again, all stern and scolding like an angry school marm, and he looks at me like he can kneel wherever he wants, but then he gets up and walks away. No one around me gives any indication that they even saw what transpired, but how could they not? I don't turn around to watch him walk away, and don't see him again on the train or the platform, when I get off two stops later. The rest of the ride I'm silently fuming because as angry and mighty as I am I've had enough of feeling threatened on the CTA.
Then that afternoon a guy from the claims department at the CTA called to get my address so they can send me a claim form to get my coat cleaned. They had noticed the dirty pregnant woman climbing up the ladder and on to the sidewalk and stopped long enough to get my name and phone number. They wanted my address too, but since the CTA employee didn't introduce himself or tell me why he wanted my information, I initially refused to give it to him. Seriously, do they think I'm going to give a stranger my address? Anyway, they were more professional on the phone. They also asked if the baby is ok, which he is as far as I can tell. Nice follow through, I guess. But I'm still pissed.
Wednesday evening I take the bus home from work. I remember when I get home that I had told Jett that I would take him for a ride on the bus. So we head back into the beautiful day to give the Chicago Transit Authority one more chance.
We wait at the corner. And wait at the corner. And wait at the corner, and no bus shows up, although about 542 buses pass us going the other way, which drives Jett crazy because he can't understand why we aren't getting on those buses. But those buses don't lead to the park.
We finally walk west to the nearest major cross road and get on a bus there. Jett is so excited. He hops up onto the bus, I pay our fare, and the bus goes one block before Jett starts panicking and wants to get off. He slides off of his seat, still holding my hand, and drags me to the door, making his panic noises the entire time. I don't know why he is so panicked all of a sudden, but I don't blame him. How could I argue with him?
We get off the bus one block later and walk three blocks home in relative peace, shaking the CTA boogey-monsters off our shoulders.
It's a beautiful day. We enjoy the fresh air and the feel of our feet on the sidewalk. When we get home we'll eat dinner and sit on the couch together and watch Sesame Street. We'll brush our teeth and put on pajamas and fall asleep to the glow of nightlights and the sound of the dishwasher.
Tomorrow we'll wake up and we won't go anywhere that isn't in walking distance.
Thankfully I had a seat, a magazine, and cell phone reception. Actually, a number of people on my train car were thankful for my cell phone reception. Most importantly, I thank god that I didn't have to pee.
When they finally told us we could leave the train we had to walk along a narrow walkway about 6 feet above the train tracks - but still underground. It was flithy. And dark. And there was debris on the walkway. And I'm 36 weeks pregnant, which meant that someone carried my backpack for me and less people complained when my back-pack carrying friend insisted that I cut in front of most people standing in line, waiting to get out of the train tunnel. Pregnancy has it's privelages.
We had to climb up a winding, wet, dirty, staircase. Then we had to climb up a ladder and through a hole in the sidewalk that is usually covered by a grate that requires the fire department to open.
So Tuesday morning I got on the bus at say 7:50 or 8:00 and made it through the hole that opened up onto the side walk at 10:15. I got to work by 10:45, after walking the rest of the way there.
Then the president of the CTA blamed the riders for the fact that it took so long to rescue us from a sealed capsule in the middle of the earth. Classy.
At the end of the day a friend and I got home by sharing a cab.
Wednesday morning I got back on the train and surprise, surprise, it was practically empty compared to rush hour standards. How the rest of the usual train riders got to work I do not know, but I should have been with them. I sit down in an aisle seat facing forward, about 3 rows back from a door, in the middle of the train. This guy gets on at the third stop and still, no one is standing in the aisles, there is still lots of room on the train. But this dude walks up to my seat, kneels down next to it, rests his forearm on my chair, wraps his other arm around his knees so that his fingers are almost touching my bare legs (I'm wearing a skirt today, of course) and looks at me. I am completely pissed because I already had to deal with the CTA yesterday and now this? Are you kidding me? Two days in a row of feeling unsafe on the CTA?
I scoot over in my seat away from the kneeling dude, which means I'm totally invading the space of the guy next to me who is just trying to read his book. I apologize, he sees what's going on, says it's ok, and goes back to reading. Apparently I have to handle this one by myself, which doesn't phase me. I'm so angry now I'm pretty sure I could handle anything thrown at me. I look at the kneeling creep and ask him to stand up please and he just looks at me. I ask him again, all stern and scolding like an angry school marm, and he looks at me like he can kneel wherever he wants, but then he gets up and walks away. No one around me gives any indication that they even saw what transpired, but how could they not? I don't turn around to watch him walk away, and don't see him again on the train or the platform, when I get off two stops later. The rest of the ride I'm silently fuming because as angry and mighty as I am I've had enough of feeling threatened on the CTA.
Then that afternoon a guy from the claims department at the CTA called to get my address so they can send me a claim form to get my coat cleaned. They had noticed the dirty pregnant woman climbing up the ladder and on to the sidewalk and stopped long enough to get my name and phone number. They wanted my address too, but since the CTA employee didn't introduce himself or tell me why he wanted my information, I initially refused to give it to him. Seriously, do they think I'm going to give a stranger my address? Anyway, they were more professional on the phone. They also asked if the baby is ok, which he is as far as I can tell. Nice follow through, I guess. But I'm still pissed.
Wednesday evening I take the bus home from work. I remember when I get home that I had told Jett that I would take him for a ride on the bus. So we head back into the beautiful day to give the Chicago Transit Authority one more chance.
We wait at the corner. And wait at the corner. And wait at the corner, and no bus shows up, although about 542 buses pass us going the other way, which drives Jett crazy because he can't understand why we aren't getting on those buses. But those buses don't lead to the park.
We finally walk west to the nearest major cross road and get on a bus there. Jett is so excited. He hops up onto the bus, I pay our fare, and the bus goes one block before Jett starts panicking and wants to get off. He slides off of his seat, still holding my hand, and drags me to the door, making his panic noises the entire time. I don't know why he is so panicked all of a sudden, but I don't blame him. How could I argue with him?
We get off the bus one block later and walk three blocks home in relative peace, shaking the CTA boogey-monsters off our shoulders.
It's a beautiful day. We enjoy the fresh air and the feel of our feet on the sidewalk. When we get home we'll eat dinner and sit on the couch together and watch Sesame Street. We'll brush our teeth and put on pajamas and fall asleep to the glow of nightlights and the sound of the dishwasher.
Tomorrow we'll wake up and we won't go anywhere that isn't in walking distance.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Twenty-two Months
Happy Birthday, Jett. Yesterday you turned 22 months old.
You are so brave now.
This weekend you wanted to ride your toy truck, which was not meant to be ridden but you somehow manage it, off the couch and I almost let you. If you could have seen the adventurous look in your eyes, you would understand why. Your gleaming eyes are hypnotizing and they make me want to indulge your every desire.
But it is still so hard.
You say so many words and you know a good handful of signs, but still half the time we don't know what you want. That makes for a lot of little cranky moments throughout each day, and some major meltdowns. But sometimes, sometimes everything clicks. And when things click while we have guests over, well that is especially delicious.
Tonight we had friends over for dinner and your behavior was fabulous. You ate all of your peas - you haven't done that in weeks. You had seconds of corn. You ate cottage cheese without throwing any on the floor. You drank your water without asking for milk, and you didn't whine to get our of your chair when you were finished. Then you brushed your teeth when I asked, gave everyone a good night kiss, let me change your diaper, put on your pajamas, and just hopped in to your crib without even taking a book to bed with you. And all in front of company! Oh, I felt like the best momma ever.
I think I'm catching on.
So...so maybe you don't want to change your diaper now. Or brush your teeth now. Or take a bath now. But if I just give you 10 minutes...and am willing to change your diaper while you stand up, and let you brush your teeth yourself, and put bubbles in the bath...you'll come around.
And maybe you don't want a hug right now...but if we play blocks for a few minutes, and build a big tower, you'll jump in to it to knock it over and lay in my lap, and rest your head on my legs, and let me build a tower on your belly.
I'm catching on to you, my sweet little enigma. You and me, we've got a good thing going.
Happy Birthday. We love you.
You are so brave now.
This weekend you wanted to ride your toy truck, which was not meant to be ridden but you somehow manage it, off the couch and I almost let you. If you could have seen the adventurous look in your eyes, you would understand why. Your gleaming eyes are hypnotizing and they make me want to indulge your every desire.
But it is still so hard.
You say so many words and you know a good handful of signs, but still half the time we don't know what you want. That makes for a lot of little cranky moments throughout each day, and some major meltdowns. But sometimes, sometimes everything clicks. And when things click while we have guests over, well that is especially delicious.
Tonight we had friends over for dinner and your behavior was fabulous. You ate all of your peas - you haven't done that in weeks. You had seconds of corn. You ate cottage cheese without throwing any on the floor. You drank your water without asking for milk, and you didn't whine to get our of your chair when you were finished. Then you brushed your teeth when I asked, gave everyone a good night kiss, let me change your diaper, put on your pajamas, and just hopped in to your crib without even taking a book to bed with you. And all in front of company! Oh, I felt like the best momma ever.
I think I'm catching on.
So...so maybe you don't want to change your diaper now. Or brush your teeth now. Or take a bath now. But if I just give you 10 minutes...and am willing to change your diaper while you stand up, and let you brush your teeth yourself, and put bubbles in the bath...you'll come around.
And maybe you don't want a hug right now...but if we play blocks for a few minutes, and build a big tower, you'll jump in to it to knock it over and lay in my lap, and rest your head on my legs, and let me build a tower on your belly.
I'm catching on to you, my sweet little enigma. You and me, we've got a good thing going.
Happy Birthday. We love you.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Happy Birthday Charlie
This post is a few days late...sorry Charlie.
Charlie's birthday was a good day from the start. We ventured out to the park for a picnic lunch. When we were done eating, Jett took Charlie's hand and led him off to the jungle gym for some serious climbing and sliding.
The boys in repose.
I think later Jett had a melt down because we let him skip his nap, so we had to put him to bed at 6pm. But then Charlie's mom came over and did our laundry while Jett slept and Charlie and I went out to eat. I ordered rootbeer at the bar and the bartender cracked up and asked, "You mean, the regular good old fashioned rootbeer?" I said, "Yeah, like the one listed on your menu?" Obviously the bar was blocking his view of my belly. Then we walked home and ate angel food cake, which Charlie's mom frosted in chocolate for us. It was a good day.
Charlie's birthday was a good day from the start. We ventured out to the park for a picnic lunch. When we were done eating, Jett took Charlie's hand and led him off to the jungle gym for some serious climbing and sliding.
The boys in repose.
I think later Jett had a melt down because we let him skip his nap, so we had to put him to bed at 6pm. But then Charlie's mom came over and did our laundry while Jett slept and Charlie and I went out to eat. I ordered rootbeer at the bar and the bartender cracked up and asked, "You mean, the regular good old fashioned rootbeer?" I said, "Yeah, like the one listed on your menu?" Obviously the bar was blocking his view of my belly. Then we walked home and ate angel food cake, which Charlie's mom frosted in chocolate for us. It was a good day.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Where the Air is Sweet
I remember watching Sesame Street when I was kid and thinking that I was missing out because pigeons never came to sit on my windowsill like they did for Bert. I don't think I ever even saw pigeons unless we were on vacation.
Today Jett and I walked around the neighborhood (sans stroller) for about 45 minutes. The only way I got him to walk in the direction I wanted was to tell him that if he walked this way we would see some pigeons. He's so lucky - he has all the pigeons he could ever want. Unfortunately that means that I'm soon going to have to come up with a new tactic for getting him to walk in the direction I want.
Later I needed Jett to get in the car, but he only wanted to stand on the sidewalk and look at the car. Then an older couple passed us on the sidewalk and I had the good sense to ask them to ask Jett to get in the car. From the sidewalk the man pointed at my open car door and in Spanish, politely told Jett to get in. Jett looked stunned, but followed directions.
Today Jett and I walked around the neighborhood (sans stroller) for about 45 minutes. The only way I got him to walk in the direction I wanted was to tell him that if he walked this way we would see some pigeons. He's so lucky - he has all the pigeons he could ever want. Unfortunately that means that I'm soon going to have to come up with a new tactic for getting him to walk in the direction I want.
Later I needed Jett to get in the car, but he only wanted to stand on the sidewalk and look at the car. Then an older couple passed us on the sidewalk and I had the good sense to ask them to ask Jett to get in the car. From the sidewalk the man pointed at my open car door and in Spanish, politely told Jett to get in. Jett looked stunned, but followed directions.
Monday, April 07, 2008
What I Learned Last Weekend
1. Not swearing can make you feel like a hero.
Sunday Jett and I hit the park at 9:00 am. After a while Jett came back to his favorite activity from last summer: pushing the stroller (which he calls "car"). I made the mistake of letting him push the stroller out of the park and on towards home. The mistake was obvious immediately, when he wanted to push the stroller on to the street with all of the other cars.
He pushed and pushed his stroller, but the poor kid couldn't get it past me. He cried, he whined, he slumped down on the sidewalk, sweaty, winded, and angry. I suggested that he sit in the stroller, but with that threat he hopped up, and I, fearing that he would bolt in to traffic, scooped him up and slam dunked him into the seat of the umbrella stroller.
Those stupid, useless restraining straps on the stroller. They were nice and relaxed - all pulled out perfectly for a nice and relaxed Jett, who doesn't need any restraining because he is so pleased to sit pretty in the stroller. Those stupid straps weren't doing their job. It was their time to shine and they didn't even know it, hanging all limp and lifeless around Jett's flailing legs and wriggling waist. Jett had half his body out from under them in no time.
As I wrestled him back in the stroller I could feel parents looking at me, and I didn't blame them. We were a sight to behold and a noise to avoid. Jett was a mess of tears, sweat, and snot. I had one forearm across his chest, pressing him in to the stroller, one foot searching for the brakes on the rear wheels to keep the stroller from moving, and both hands slowly, ever so slowly, feeding the buckles of the stroller straps back towards the seat of the stroller, one little nylon ripple at a time....
2. Tantrums can start and stop without warning.
As soon as I got the straps just tight enough to keep Jett from sliding out of the stroller to a dangerous degree, I kissed Jett on the head and started pushing my sweaty, red-faced, snot-covered, tear-stained baby home. Two steps in to this walk Jett cheerily announces "all done!" and chats with me all the way home. As if two seconds ago he wasn't tearfully announcing to every parent and child on the playground that I was preventing him from fulfilling his reasonable and otherwise attainable lifelong dream of playing Frogger on Damen Avenue.
Is he kidding me?
3. No, he is not kidding.
He will walk an entire mile, while pushing a stroller, two days in a row - as long as you let him dictate exactly where he will walk.
Now if only I could fit in the stroller....
Sunday Jett and I hit the park at 9:00 am. After a while Jett came back to his favorite activity from last summer: pushing the stroller (which he calls "car"). I made the mistake of letting him push the stroller out of the park and on towards home. The mistake was obvious immediately, when he wanted to push the stroller on to the street with all of the other cars.
He pushed and pushed his stroller, but the poor kid couldn't get it past me. He cried, he whined, he slumped down on the sidewalk, sweaty, winded, and angry. I suggested that he sit in the stroller, but with that threat he hopped up, and I, fearing that he would bolt in to traffic, scooped him up and slam dunked him into the seat of the umbrella stroller.
Those stupid, useless restraining straps on the stroller. They were nice and relaxed - all pulled out perfectly for a nice and relaxed Jett, who doesn't need any restraining because he is so pleased to sit pretty in the stroller. Those stupid straps weren't doing their job. It was their time to shine and they didn't even know it, hanging all limp and lifeless around Jett's flailing legs and wriggling waist. Jett had half his body out from under them in no time.
As I wrestled him back in the stroller I could feel parents looking at me, and I didn't blame them. We were a sight to behold and a noise to avoid. Jett was a mess of tears, sweat, and snot. I had one forearm across his chest, pressing him in to the stroller, one foot searching for the brakes on the rear wheels to keep the stroller from moving, and both hands slowly, ever so slowly, feeding the buckles of the stroller straps back towards the seat of the stroller, one little nylon ripple at a time....
2. Tantrums can start and stop without warning.
As soon as I got the straps just tight enough to keep Jett from sliding out of the stroller to a dangerous degree, I kissed Jett on the head and started pushing my sweaty, red-faced, snot-covered, tear-stained baby home. Two steps in to this walk Jett cheerily announces "all done!" and chats with me all the way home. As if two seconds ago he wasn't tearfully announcing to every parent and child on the playground that I was preventing him from fulfilling his reasonable and otherwise attainable lifelong dream of playing Frogger on Damen Avenue.
Is he kidding me?
3. No, he is not kidding.
He will walk an entire mile, while pushing a stroller, two days in a row - as long as you let him dictate exactly where he will walk.
Now if only I could fit in the stroller....
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Why I Only Remember the Last 15 Minutes of Each Day
No, we have to change your diaper before you can play.
No, we have to change your diaper, I think you are leaking through.
No, you can not roll around on the changing table like that.
No, because that is poop!
No, now you have to take a bath.
No, you can not watch a Baby Einstein video, it is only 7:30 in the morning.
No, you can not watch a Baby Einstein video, it is only 7:31 in the morning.
No, you can not watch Elmo on the computer, it is only 7:32 in the morning.
No, I know you've been asking for an hour, but we are not turning on the tv yet.
No, do not throw your chicken nuggets on the floor.
No, I did not eat your last chicken nugget, that was your second-to-last chicken nugget, your last chicken nugget is on the floor.
No, you can not have it back, that is impossible.
Yes, it is time to brush your teeth - did you just walk right in to the bathroom?
Yes, it is time to put on your pajamas - are you smiling?
Yes, of course we can read one more book.
Yes, you are awfully cute when we get to this part in the book.
Yes, I will give you a kiss and a hug and a high-five and the rock.
Yes, I love you too. Good night.
No, we have to change your diaper, I think you are leaking through.
No, you can not roll around on the changing table like that.
No, because that is poop!
No, now you have to take a bath.
No, you can not watch a Baby Einstein video, it is only 7:30 in the morning.
No, you can not watch a Baby Einstein video, it is only 7:31 in the morning.
No, you can not watch Elmo on the computer, it is only 7:32 in the morning.
No, I know you've been asking for an hour, but we are not turning on the tv yet.
No, do not throw your chicken nuggets on the floor.
No, I did not eat your last chicken nugget, that was your second-to-last chicken nugget, your last chicken nugget is on the floor.
No, you can not have it back, that is impossible.
Yes, it is time to brush your teeth - did you just walk right in to the bathroom?
Yes, it is time to put on your pajamas - are you smiling?
Yes, of course we can read one more book.
Yes, you are awfully cute when we get to this part in the book.
Yes, I will give you a kiss and a hug and a high-five and the rock.
Yes, I love you too. Good night.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Frustration
Conversation between Jett and me when I get home from work:
Jett: Baby!
Me: You want to play with your baby?
Jett: Baby!
Me: Where is your baby?
Jett: Baby!
Me: (Finds doll in crib). Here's your baby! Do you want to hold the baby?
Jett: (Points at TV in obvious frustration). Baby!
Me: Oh. You want to watch Baby Einstein. Great.
Jett: (Climbs up on to couch. Pushes one pillow towards end of couch). Mama! (Puts one pillow on his lap). Jett! Baby!
Me: (Turn on Baby Einstein video. Think it's so sweet that Jett wants me to sit next to him on the couch. Lay down on couch next to Jett. One hair on my head touches Jett's leg).
Jett: No! Mama, No! (Pushes me away, as if he is in pain). Off!
Jett: Baby!
Me: You want to play with your baby?
Jett: Baby!
Me: Where is your baby?
Jett: Baby!
Me: (Finds doll in crib). Here's your baby! Do you want to hold the baby?
Jett: (Points at TV in obvious frustration). Baby!
Me: Oh. You want to watch Baby Einstein. Great.
Jett: (Climbs up on to couch. Pushes one pillow towards end of couch). Mama! (Puts one pillow on his lap). Jett! Baby!
Me: (Turn on Baby Einstein video. Think it's so sweet that Jett wants me to sit next to him on the couch. Lay down on couch next to Jett. One hair on my head touches Jett's leg).
Jett: No! Mama, No! (Pushes me away, as if he is in pain). Off!
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Happy Easter
I hope you all had a happy Easter. We did, even though so many of our minutes were used up wiping Jett's nose, eyes, and covering his mouth when he coughed. But that's kind of the standard around here so we won't dwell on it.
Otherwise we had a fabulous weekend. Jett and Charlie swam in the hotel pool. Actually, Jett spent most of his time walking up and down the steps into the pool, first waving to Grandma and Grandpa, then gripping my hand to get in to the pool, and finally gripping Charlie's hand to step down to the last two steps. He let Charlie walk into the pool with him, and Jett had fun hanging out in Charlie's arms for a while. But the pool was small and there were lots of kids, and after a few rides in Charlie's arms, Jett was pretty confident that he could swim over to those other kids without anyone's help. He used one hand to try to push Charlie away, and the other hand to grip his shoulder so he wouldn't actually leave him alone in the water. Oh, the drama!
On Easter day we visited the Garfield Park Conservatory, which is the only place in Chicago that feels like Spring. The flowers were blooming, the fern room was humid and warm, and Jett, seeming to appreciate everything, walked through all of it while holding my hand, which was a pretty sweet Easter present.
Our Easter had a few traditional elements too. Like Easter baskets! Jett loved his basket from Grandma and Grandpa, mostly because Jett pulled from it a zip-up bag with Elmo's face on it - ELMO! and inside the bag were three toy cars - CARS! He is sleeping with two of those cars right now, and after Charlie and I left his room tonight we heard him saying good-night to them.
Jett and Ellie hunted for Easter eggs this afternoon, and even though it only took about 2 minutes to hide the eggs, we put twice as much effort in to hiding the eggs as Jett and Ellie did in finding them. They did however, like throwing them.
Happy Easter!
Otherwise we had a fabulous weekend. Jett and Charlie swam in the hotel pool. Actually, Jett spent most of his time walking up and down the steps into the pool, first waving to Grandma and Grandpa, then gripping my hand to get in to the pool, and finally gripping Charlie's hand to step down to the last two steps. He let Charlie walk into the pool with him, and Jett had fun hanging out in Charlie's arms for a while. But the pool was small and there were lots of kids, and after a few rides in Charlie's arms, Jett was pretty confident that he could swim over to those other kids without anyone's help. He used one hand to try to push Charlie away, and the other hand to grip his shoulder so he wouldn't actually leave him alone in the water. Oh, the drama!
On Easter day we visited the Garfield Park Conservatory, which is the only place in Chicago that feels like Spring. The flowers were blooming, the fern room was humid and warm, and Jett, seeming to appreciate everything, walked through all of it while holding my hand, which was a pretty sweet Easter present.
Our Easter had a few traditional elements too. Like Easter baskets! Jett loved his basket from Grandma and Grandpa, mostly because Jett pulled from it a zip-up bag with Elmo's face on it - ELMO! and inside the bag were three toy cars - CARS! He is sleeping with two of those cars right now, and after Charlie and I left his room tonight we heard him saying good-night to them.
Jett and Ellie hunted for Easter eggs this afternoon, and even though it only took about 2 minutes to hide the eggs, we put twice as much effort in to hiding the eggs as Jett and Ellie did in finding them. They did however, like throwing them.
Happy Easter!
The best Easter eggs have Cookie Monster inside them.
COOKIE MONSTER!
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Still Drawing in the Cardboard Box
Remember when I put Jett in a cardboard box and gave him a bunch of crayons to keep him company? That box has avoided a trip to the recycling bin because it is still Jett's pallet of choice.
The reason it has lasted so long is because we only use washable crayons, and washable crayons come off of everything, including cardboard. So, Jett draws a picture, invariably sits down on the picture, and literally ends up wiping off the picture with his bum, leaving blank space on which to draw a new picture.
Every morning the first thing Jett does when he gets out of his crib is walk over to the cardboard box and ask for the crayons (by pointing and saying "na!"). Then he hands me a crayon and tells me to sit. Then he hands Charlie a crayon and tells him to sit. We all sit and draw until one of us gets hungry enough to eat, or has to leave to go to work. It's our morning routine.
The reason it has lasted so long is because we only use washable crayons, and washable crayons come off of everything, including cardboard. So, Jett draws a picture, invariably sits down on the picture, and literally ends up wiping off the picture with his bum, leaving blank space on which to draw a new picture.
Every morning the first thing Jett does when he gets out of his crib is walk over to the cardboard box and ask for the crayons (by pointing and saying "na!"). Then he hands me a crayon and tells me to sit. Then he hands Charlie a crayon and tells him to sit. We all sit and draw until one of us gets hungry enough to eat, or has to leave to go to work. It's our morning routine.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Anecdotal Evidence
If you've been reading these posts periodically since December, you know that Jett has had a runny nose off and on since then. Sometimes it's seemed like a legitimate cold, and other times it seemed more like an allergy. How can I tell the difference? Because he keeps itching his face.
He takes the back of his hand and wipes it, obsessively, across his eyes, his ears, his mouth, his nose. It just looks like his face itches. This is especially problematic because it isn't easy to keep this kid's nails short enough to prevent him from scratching himself on the eyelid, cheek, and nose. You'd think with nails that long that he'd just itch his face with his fingers like the rest of us might - who knows why he uses the soft skin on the back of his hands to itch his face, but he does, and it looks, well, bothersome.
Some people named Charlie might say that he doesn't use the back of his hands to itch his face because, simply, he is not itching his face. He just has a habit of wiping his face - every feature of his face - with the back of his hand. But if you were named Charlie and that was what you said you would be wrong.
Anyway, sometimes his eyelids are puffy (no, not from all the rubbing, they were puffy before the rubbing). And sometimes his scalp itches. And his nose is almost always runny. And besides, our doctor said it sounds like an allergy and why not try liquid zyrtec, they sell it over the counter now, by the way.
I go to the store to get the zyrtec, but there isn't any infant zyrtec, only children's zyrtec, and that is not for kids under 2. Plus it says it makes kids sleepy, and our doctor said it was non-sedating. I think that I must be looking at the wrong medicine, so I go home, get online, and search for infant zyrtec, which I soon realize doesn't exist.
But what does exist is a website called askthepatient.com or something like that - I can't remember if that is the exact url or not, and I don't want to go back to that website anyway. But I will tell you about it.
It's a website where people can post about their success or lack of success using any number of medicines, including children's zyrtec. I know I shouldn't visit this website. I know it is going to be full of wackos who blame their medication for everything from their caffeine addiction to their cat's shedding problem. But still, I visit the site anyway, and yes, that is exactly what I find.
Except when I start reading about the children's zyrtec, and nearly every parent who writes in with a cautionary tale has the same cautionary tale. Behavioral problems, intense itching and withdrawal when their child stopped taking it. More behavioral problems. There were comments from parents whose kids had great success with zyrtec, but still. This website was slowly starting to sound less wacky and more consistent. Of course, maybe it was just consistent in it's wackiness. That is really the question, isn't it?
Actually, the question I was concerned with was, Am I wacky for taking these accounts into consideration? Or wacky for not taking them in to consideration? Will my pediatrician move me to her mental list of crazy parents if I tell her I'm concerned about something I read from a bunch of strangers on the internet? Or will she consider me a dutiful parent?
You might think it's silly to worry about what your pediatrician will think of you, but it is not. I want my pediatrician to want to spend as much time talking to me as possible. If I come across as crazy, Jett's going to get stuck with the grumpy nurses and the cold stethoscope, just to get me out of the office as quick as possible. I know doctors must have their ways of dealing with difficult parents, and I do not want to know what they are.
So after multiple obsessive conversations about this with Charlie and anyone else who happened to walk in my line of vision during those 24 hours, I left a message for my doctor, telling her what I read online (and hoping she wasn't rolling her eyes at my anecdotal research) and wondering if we shouldn't just stick with the clarinex that Jett has used before (and which I couldn't find any anecdotal information on at all - ignorance is bliss I guess). Then I spent the next eight hours biting my fingernails, waiting for her to call back. And then she did.
And guess what? She just heard similar information about zyrtec from an allergist. In fact, she just took her own daughter off zyrtec (for a different reason) and was watching for withdrawal symptoms. Relief.
Oh, but the story does not end there. Of course I get Jett's clarinex prescription filled, and then don't see him itch his face for three days. Not one drip of snot leaves his nose. His eyelids aren't pink or puffy. He is sleeping great, and I've wasted two hours of time reading that goofy discussion board, 24 hours fretting about the phone call with his doctor, and $23 buying his clarinex. Great. I consider dusting the entire house while he stands directly under every piece of furniture, and then asking him to shake out the dust cloth for me when I'm finished, just to get his juices flowing, but it's Sunday and I'm feeling too lazy for all that work.
But finally, to my great relief, Sunday evening produces puffy eyelids and a runny nose without me having to lift a finger. Out comes the clarinex. His nose was runny again this morning and this evening, so he got more clarinex tonight. I'm keeping a written record of his symptoms to see if this medicine is really working or not. But I don't know what I'm hoping for.
What do we want at this point? More allergy symptoms, to vindicate myself and my efforts? Allergy symptoms that come back when he stops taking the clarinex in two weeks, so at least we know the clarinex is working? Or an absence of allergies, so you know, Jett doesn't have to have them?
This is where I live my life now - midway between madness and making sense. I think I need my own discussion board, where I can vent about my own child's symptoms or lack of symptoms, or slight change of symptoms, or....
oh yeah. right.
He takes the back of his hand and wipes it, obsessively, across his eyes, his ears, his mouth, his nose. It just looks like his face itches. This is especially problematic because it isn't easy to keep this kid's nails short enough to prevent him from scratching himself on the eyelid, cheek, and nose. You'd think with nails that long that he'd just itch his face with his fingers like the rest of us might - who knows why he uses the soft skin on the back of his hands to itch his face, but he does, and it looks, well, bothersome.
Some people named Charlie might say that he doesn't use the back of his hands to itch his face because, simply, he is not itching his face. He just has a habit of wiping his face - every feature of his face - with the back of his hand. But if you were named Charlie and that was what you said you would be wrong.
Anyway, sometimes his eyelids are puffy (no, not from all the rubbing, they were puffy before the rubbing). And sometimes his scalp itches. And his nose is almost always runny. And besides, our doctor said it sounds like an allergy and why not try liquid zyrtec, they sell it over the counter now, by the way.
I go to the store to get the zyrtec, but there isn't any infant zyrtec, only children's zyrtec, and that is not for kids under 2. Plus it says it makes kids sleepy, and our doctor said it was non-sedating. I think that I must be looking at the wrong medicine, so I go home, get online, and search for infant zyrtec, which I soon realize doesn't exist.
But what does exist is a website called askthepatient.com or something like that - I can't remember if that is the exact url or not, and I don't want to go back to that website anyway. But I will tell you about it.
It's a website where people can post about their success or lack of success using any number of medicines, including children's zyrtec. I know I shouldn't visit this website. I know it is going to be full of wackos who blame their medication for everything from their caffeine addiction to their cat's shedding problem. But still, I visit the site anyway, and yes, that is exactly what I find.
Except when I start reading about the children's zyrtec, and nearly every parent who writes in with a cautionary tale has the same cautionary tale. Behavioral problems, intense itching and withdrawal when their child stopped taking it. More behavioral problems. There were comments from parents whose kids had great success with zyrtec, but still. This website was slowly starting to sound less wacky and more consistent. Of course, maybe it was just consistent in it's wackiness. That is really the question, isn't it?
Actually, the question I was concerned with was, Am I wacky for taking these accounts into consideration? Or wacky for not taking them in to consideration? Will my pediatrician move me to her mental list of crazy parents if I tell her I'm concerned about something I read from a bunch of strangers on the internet? Or will she consider me a dutiful parent?
You might think it's silly to worry about what your pediatrician will think of you, but it is not. I want my pediatrician to want to spend as much time talking to me as possible. If I come across as crazy, Jett's going to get stuck with the grumpy nurses and the cold stethoscope, just to get me out of the office as quick as possible. I know doctors must have their ways of dealing with difficult parents, and I do not want to know what they are.
So after multiple obsessive conversations about this with Charlie and anyone else who happened to walk in my line of vision during those 24 hours, I left a message for my doctor, telling her what I read online (and hoping she wasn't rolling her eyes at my anecdotal research) and wondering if we shouldn't just stick with the clarinex that Jett has used before (and which I couldn't find any anecdotal information on at all - ignorance is bliss I guess). Then I spent the next eight hours biting my fingernails, waiting for her to call back. And then she did.
And guess what? She just heard similar information about zyrtec from an allergist. In fact, she just took her own daughter off zyrtec (for a different reason) and was watching for withdrawal symptoms. Relief.
Oh, but the story does not end there. Of course I get Jett's clarinex prescription filled, and then don't see him itch his face for three days. Not one drip of snot leaves his nose. His eyelids aren't pink or puffy. He is sleeping great, and I've wasted two hours of time reading that goofy discussion board, 24 hours fretting about the phone call with his doctor, and $23 buying his clarinex. Great. I consider dusting the entire house while he stands directly under every piece of furniture, and then asking him to shake out the dust cloth for me when I'm finished, just to get his juices flowing, but it's Sunday and I'm feeling too lazy for all that work.
But finally, to my great relief, Sunday evening produces puffy eyelids and a runny nose without me having to lift a finger. Out comes the clarinex. His nose was runny again this morning and this evening, so he got more clarinex tonight. I'm keeping a written record of his symptoms to see if this medicine is really working or not. But I don't know what I'm hoping for.
What do we want at this point? More allergy symptoms, to vindicate myself and my efforts? Allergy symptoms that come back when he stops taking the clarinex in two weeks, so at least we know the clarinex is working? Or an absence of allergies, so you know, Jett doesn't have to have them?
This is where I live my life now - midway between madness and making sense. I think I need my own discussion board, where I can vent about my own child's symptoms or lack of symptoms, or slight change of symptoms, or....
oh yeah. right.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Twenty One Months
Happy Birthday, Jett! Last week you turned 21 months old.
My favorite memory of you this month is from just a few nights ago. Daddy and I were putting you to bed. We had finished changing your diaper, and had wrestled you into your pajamas. Now we were sitting on the floor, reading books. You had laid out the rules like you do every night - assigning each of us, including yourself, a book to read. You are so adamant about these rules. Here they are:
1. We each must sit on the floor with a book in our lap, and we must read the book.
2. If a book sits on my lap unopened, you will open it.
3. If I wait too long between turning the pages, you will reach over and turn the page for me.
4. We must all read our books at the same time.
5. The first person to start reading their book aloud has the floor...
6. Unless you change your mind and give the floor to someone else.
7. You will designate who does not have the floor by placing your hand over that person's mouth and saying "No Nahnning," which translates to, "Stop talking."
8. No matter who else is talking, you always have the floor.
But this night was different. This night you felt like rolling over on to the floor. But I am a good mama, and I follow the rules, so I kept reading. So you start squirming around on the floor, but I keep reading. So you keep squirming, and start laughing. I look over at you, and you have this glint in your eye, and I know where this is going.
I know you are begging for a tickle, a wrestle, a zerbert on your belly, and I give in. Then just as I start to wind you down again, Daddy gets in on the action, and soon you are flying like a plane in the air, turning flips, sliding down his back. You're overjoyed, we're all laughing, and even though I'm loving the moment, I'm wondering how we're ever going to get you to bed. But just at that moment, we all end up stretched out on the floor, breathless, as if we had planned it; your head resting on my leg, my head on Daddy's shoulder. Then as calm as a cucumber, you slide up next to me, turn over on your tummy, and finish reading your book.
Thank you, Jett. Thanks for surprising me in almost always good ways.
Happy Birthday. We love you.
My favorite memory of you this month is from just a few nights ago. Daddy and I were putting you to bed. We had finished changing your diaper, and had wrestled you into your pajamas. Now we were sitting on the floor, reading books. You had laid out the rules like you do every night - assigning each of us, including yourself, a book to read. You are so adamant about these rules. Here they are:
1. We each must sit on the floor with a book in our lap, and we must read the book.
2. If a book sits on my lap unopened, you will open it.
3. If I wait too long between turning the pages, you will reach over and turn the page for me.
4. We must all read our books at the same time.
5. The first person to start reading their book aloud has the floor...
6. Unless you change your mind and give the floor to someone else.
7. You will designate who does not have the floor by placing your hand over that person's mouth and saying "No Nahnning," which translates to, "Stop talking."
8. No matter who else is talking, you always have the floor.
But this night was different. This night you felt like rolling over on to the floor. But I am a good mama, and I follow the rules, so I kept reading. So you start squirming around on the floor, but I keep reading. So you keep squirming, and start laughing. I look over at you, and you have this glint in your eye, and I know where this is going.
I know you are begging for a tickle, a wrestle, a zerbert on your belly, and I give in. Then just as I start to wind you down again, Daddy gets in on the action, and soon you are flying like a plane in the air, turning flips, sliding down his back. You're overjoyed, we're all laughing, and even though I'm loving the moment, I'm wondering how we're ever going to get you to bed. But just at that moment, we all end up stretched out on the floor, breathless, as if we had planned it; your head resting on my leg, my head on Daddy's shoulder. Then as calm as a cucumber, you slide up next to me, turn over on your tummy, and finish reading your book.
Thank you, Jett. Thanks for surprising me in almost always good ways.
Happy Birthday. We love you.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Interpretive Dance
Those are some great name suggestions - awesome. In an effort to thank you all for your creative thinking, Jett wanted to show you a little creativity of his own.
Thanks again. If you think of any more good names, just let me know.
Thanks again. If you think of any more good names, just let me know.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)