1. i have been thinking in list form for the past few days, so the only way i'm going to get this post written is as a list.
2. i have been thinking in list form because we're getting on a plane tomorrow morning to head down to the sunshine state, and wile and i aren't coming back for 3 weeks. 3 weeks! the packing has been intense. mostly because the first leg of the trip is a jaunt to miami for the goldwyn-schmergel nuptuals. so part of my packing list my list was broken down by event. and i have one bag which is miami-only, which will come back with stephen when he returns home next week. in that bag are, among other things, 5 pairs of shoes. all with heels.
3. oh and the baby has been barfing all day!
4. and i got a haircut and i can't decide if it's fantastic or horrible.
5. i may be able to post from florida, but don't hold your breath.
6. i think wile's awake. yes, he is.
7. see you in a few weeks!
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Friday, February 17, 2006
yeah, passing like a gall stone
whenever anyone talks about all the lovely stages that babies and toddlers go through, the common refrain is "well, it'll pass..." and yes, this is true. the stages will pass. but the passing? it hurts.
for example, right now wile has dived headfirst with a mighty yowl into the separation anxiety stage. man oh man, has he ever. tuesday morning i ran out to the store to get soymilk and juice and left him with his father. his father, the closest person to him besides me, coming in second possibly only because of lack of boo-bas, with whom he shares dna and, often, a bed. i was gone 20 minutes. he cried the whole time. wednesday morning i left him at playgroup with stephen's mother while i went with sarah for her final dress fitting. at playgroup, with all of his friends and all the awesome toys and all the moms and sitters who he spends three mornings a week with and loves. he screamed bloody murder when i left; when i got back i met janet and shauna out in the lobby and they told me i better hurry up and get in there and rescue my son.
all of this is troubing, of course. it's hard to know that he's inconsolable when i leave him—and hard to know that whoever stays with him is in for a rough time. but really, i could deal very easily with this whole stage if those were the only symptoms. alas, they're not.
this is what my nights with wile have been like for the past week or so:
6:30 - wile bath
7:15 - wile into pajamas
7:30/8:00 - wile asleep
10/10:30 - wile awake, and not only absolutely not having any of stephen coming to put him back down, also not having any of me coming in, putting him back down, and leaving. he won't fall back asleep, so eventually, as i'm in a dark room, i fall asleep too.
1:00/2:00 - i'm wide awake, wile and stephen are asleep. i get up and do the things that i normally get to do between 8pm and midnight: email, fold laundry, brush my teeth, etc.
3:00/3:30 - back in bed
6:20 - wile's wide awake and ready to get up
this? this is not a healthy sleep pattern. i feel like i'm back in the newborn days. only back then i didn't have anything to compare it to. but now i've gotten addicted to my post-wile-bedtime hours, and the withdrawl is a bitch. my only consolation last night was that they replayed the newest episode of project runway, which i had missed at 10pm, at 2am, so i got to watch it.
okay, enough kvetching. go look at pictures of wile and his people sledding. that's iden in the camo hat, luella in the pink hat, and gwen sprawled in wile's lap....
for example, right now wile has dived headfirst with a mighty yowl into the separation anxiety stage. man oh man, has he ever. tuesday morning i ran out to the store to get soymilk and juice and left him with his father. his father, the closest person to him besides me, coming in second possibly only because of lack of boo-bas, with whom he shares dna and, often, a bed. i was gone 20 minutes. he cried the whole time. wednesday morning i left him at playgroup with stephen's mother while i went with sarah for her final dress fitting. at playgroup, with all of his friends and all the awesome toys and all the moms and sitters who he spends three mornings a week with and loves. he screamed bloody murder when i left; when i got back i met janet and shauna out in the lobby and they told me i better hurry up and get in there and rescue my son.
all of this is troubing, of course. it's hard to know that he's inconsolable when i leave him—and hard to know that whoever stays with him is in for a rough time. but really, i could deal very easily with this whole stage if those were the only symptoms. alas, they're not.
this is what my nights with wile have been like for the past week or so:
6:30 - wile bath
7:15 - wile into pajamas
7:30/8:00 - wile asleep
10/10:30 - wile awake, and not only absolutely not having any of stephen coming to put him back down, also not having any of me coming in, putting him back down, and leaving. he won't fall back asleep, so eventually, as i'm in a dark room, i fall asleep too.
1:00/2:00 - i'm wide awake, wile and stephen are asleep. i get up and do the things that i normally get to do between 8pm and midnight: email, fold laundry, brush my teeth, etc.
3:00/3:30 - back in bed
6:20 - wile's wide awake and ready to get up
this? this is not a healthy sleep pattern. i feel like i'm back in the newborn days. only back then i didn't have anything to compare it to. but now i've gotten addicted to my post-wile-bedtime hours, and the withdrawl is a bitch. my only consolation last night was that they replayed the newest episode of project runway, which i had missed at 10pm, at 2am, so i got to watch it.
okay, enough kvetching. go look at pictures of wile and his people sledding. that's iden in the camo hat, luella in the pink hat, and gwen sprawled in wile's lap....
Thursday, February 09, 2006
correspondence
dear department of motor vehicles -
i believe you owe someone an apology, dmv.
i know, dmv, that there were some parts of our sojourn in your hallowed halls that we can't blame you for. like the man who tried to quietly and nonchalently slip in front of me in line, pretending that he didn't see the 500 people in line behind me. no, sir, that's actually not my entourage, though i'm flattered. and i can't blame you, dmv, for the father of the little girl who, when the little girl got a little pushy when trying to make friends with wile, snatched her up and said "don't push! i'm gonna beat your ass! why you so violent?"
and let me say that i know that i brought the child there of my own volition. however. three separate waits? three? honestly...
while we were in the big line that snakes out the door into the hallway, twisting around the little metal-pole-and-cloth-strap dividers, the gentleman behind me, after about 20 minutes, said "excuse me, miss? is this really just the line to...get the numbered tickets...so we can get in another line?" i believe his dumbfoundedness spoke for all of us in the line. the line that seemed to move backwards.
so once i finally get the number, wait some more, and then finally see my number flash on the board (bingo!!) and get to go up to the window and do my thing, the nice man who helps me...gives me another number! so that i can wait some more, and then go to another window! now i know, dmv, that you're a government agency, which means you probably did some big study that took like 10 years to complete which determined that splitting up everyone's transactions between different windows somehow makes the process run more smoothly and efficiently. but to the average dmv-goer? it kinda makes us feel like whats-his-name who has to keep pushing the freaking boulder up the hill, only to watch it roll back down again, for all eternity.
and perhaps, dmv, you could have a little chat with your security guards. perhaps you could tell them that if they see a mother nursing a child, they could maybe not come over and tell them that they are in the "wrong waiting area" and that they need to move. especially when the nursing child is ASLEEP. oh and perhaps you could also tell them that when a mother has her child sitting up on the counter, firmly in her grasp, so that he doesn't cry while she's signing some papers, they could not come over and say "the baby can't be up there cause the baby could fall and then it could be the dmv's fault and you could sue." of course, if you got through to them with the don't-fuck-with-a-nursing-mom lesson, that second one would be unecessary, as the child wouldn't need to be up on the counter because he wouldn't be super cranky from being woken up.
so yes, i think an apology is in order. oh, no no no, dmv. don't look at me. i need you to apologize to the woman who we passed on the street after we finally escaped your clutches, who, upon seeing wile's un-mittened hands, told me that "baby's hands are cold!", to which i replied: "bite me."
yours sincerely,
hey mama
i believe you owe someone an apology, dmv.
i know, dmv, that there were some parts of our sojourn in your hallowed halls that we can't blame you for. like the man who tried to quietly and nonchalently slip in front of me in line, pretending that he didn't see the 500 people in line behind me. no, sir, that's actually not my entourage, though i'm flattered. and i can't blame you, dmv, for the father of the little girl who, when the little girl got a little pushy when trying to make friends with wile, snatched her up and said "don't push! i'm gonna beat your ass! why you so violent?"
and let me say that i know that i brought the child there of my own volition. however. three separate waits? three? honestly...
while we were in the big line that snakes out the door into the hallway, twisting around the little metal-pole-and-cloth-strap dividers, the gentleman behind me, after about 20 minutes, said "excuse me, miss? is this really just the line to...get the numbered tickets...so we can get in another line?" i believe his dumbfoundedness spoke for all of us in the line. the line that seemed to move backwards.
so once i finally get the number, wait some more, and then finally see my number flash on the board (bingo!!) and get to go up to the window and do my thing, the nice man who helps me...gives me another number! so that i can wait some more, and then go to another window! now i know, dmv, that you're a government agency, which means you probably did some big study that took like 10 years to complete which determined that splitting up everyone's transactions between different windows somehow makes the process run more smoothly and efficiently. but to the average dmv-goer? it kinda makes us feel like whats-his-name who has to keep pushing the freaking boulder up the hill, only to watch it roll back down again, for all eternity.
and perhaps, dmv, you could have a little chat with your security guards. perhaps you could tell them that if they see a mother nursing a child, they could maybe not come over and tell them that they are in the "wrong waiting area" and that they need to move. especially when the nursing child is ASLEEP. oh and perhaps you could also tell them that when a mother has her child sitting up on the counter, firmly in her grasp, so that he doesn't cry while she's signing some papers, they could not come over and say "the baby can't be up there cause the baby could fall and then it could be the dmv's fault and you could sue." of course, if you got through to them with the don't-fuck-with-a-nursing-mom lesson, that second one would be unecessary, as the child wouldn't need to be up on the counter because he wouldn't be super cranky from being woken up.
so yes, i think an apology is in order. oh, no no no, dmv. don't look at me. i need you to apologize to the woman who we passed on the street after we finally escaped your clutches, who, upon seeing wile's un-mittened hands, told me that "baby's hands are cold!", to which i replied: "bite me."
yours sincerely,
hey mama
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
ll cool w
you know how there were those boys who had girlfriends in 5th + 6th grade, but by the time they got to high school it was all over? they weren't cute anymore, the acne set in, or they were still the same height as they were in 6th grade.... they peaked too early, like a child actor who you know is never going to see celluloid past the age of 12.
well, what happens when you're a ladies' man at 18 months? at the moment, wile has 3 ladies competeing for his affections.
first there's gwen, mona's daughter. gwen proably qualifies as the girl-next-door (technically around-the-block). she's 13 months and had a vocabulary of about 20 words, one of which is "wi". as is, wi-le. she wakes up from her naps saying "wi? wi?", as if she's been dreaming about him. there have been several kisses between gwen and "wi", including a big fat wet one that engulfed her nose.
then there's our other friend, luella. lulu for short. 15 months. she's a twin, and her brother, iden, is a little bruiser who i think wouldn't have a problem taking wile down if he felt wile wasn't doing right by luella. she also says "wi", but it's not the first word out of her mouth when she wakes up (yet). wile has, on a couple of occasions, tackled lulu to the ground and kissed her, which has made her cry. methinks she doth protest too much.... the other day at playgroup i was holding wile on one hip and lulu on the other, and he gave her a kiss and she lit up with a huge smile.
then there's the older woman, macy. macy is 2-1/2, and a playgroup regular. i got an email from her mom last week telling me that macy talks about wile all the time at home. no kissing yet, but: we were at the park one day, before playgroup started up, and macy was there with her dad. we hadn't met them yet, but wile was intrigued with macy, and followed her around for a little while, though he wouldn't get close enough to actually make contact with her. playing it cool, you know. but they were playing ball together at playgroup on monday....
we're going to be the first baby playgroup to be cancelled due to catfights.
well, what happens when you're a ladies' man at 18 months? at the moment, wile has 3 ladies competeing for his affections.
first there's gwen, mona's daughter. gwen proably qualifies as the girl-next-door (technically around-the-block). she's 13 months and had a vocabulary of about 20 words, one of which is "wi". as is, wi-le. she wakes up from her naps saying "wi? wi?", as if she's been dreaming about him. there have been several kisses between gwen and "wi", including a big fat wet one that engulfed her nose.
then there's our other friend, luella. lulu for short. 15 months. she's a twin, and her brother, iden, is a little bruiser who i think wouldn't have a problem taking wile down if he felt wile wasn't doing right by luella. she also says "wi", but it's not the first word out of her mouth when she wakes up (yet). wile has, on a couple of occasions, tackled lulu to the ground and kissed her, which has made her cry. methinks she doth protest too much.... the other day at playgroup i was holding wile on one hip and lulu on the other, and he gave her a kiss and she lit up with a huge smile.
then there's the older woman, macy. macy is 2-1/2, and a playgroup regular. i got an email from her mom last week telling me that macy talks about wile all the time at home. no kissing yet, but: we were at the park one day, before playgroup started up, and macy was there with her dad. we hadn't met them yet, but wile was intrigued with macy, and followed her around for a little while, though he wouldn't get close enough to actually make contact with her. playing it cool, you know. but they were playing ball together at playgroup on monday....
we're going to be the first baby playgroup to be cancelled due to catfights.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
