Obligatory Posting of New Year’s Resolutions

I almost never make New Year’s resolutions. Because I hate them, that’s why. I mean, why set myself up for failure like that?
However, in the interest of the blogosphere and the current, calendar-spurred trend of cataloguing one’s vices and vowing never again to drink/smoke/overeat/get high/do any combination thereof, I present, for your ridicule, my New Year’s Resolutions (I’ve even included something about weight loss, for all you die-hard resolutionists out there.):

1. I will try not to obsessively check my favorite blogs for updates (sorry Julie and Daniel (aka Dr. Johnny Fever)), or leave them on-screen and compulsively Refresh (sorry Dooce), thus having my IP address show up on their stats logs thousands of times, and making me, in essence, an internet stalker. (Yeah, I’m pretty sure there’s no way I can stick with this one.)

2. I will NOT participate in some ridiculous, trendy diet in an effort to “lose the baby weight.” “Baby weight” is a misnomer anyhow; if I’ve had the kangaroo pouch since the birth of the firstborn (eight years ago), can I really blame the new baby?

3. I WILL try to remind myself daily that, since Baby Boy has started solids, I can no longer rely on breastfeeding as my sole means of losing said baby weight; I will also try to do this reminding BEFORE I deposit the chocolate into the gaping orifice that is my mouth.

[Notice almost all of these say "I will TRY"?...It's that "setting myself up for failure" thing. See, this way, I can always say, "Well, I TRIED...."]

4. I will enjoy my kids more and try (God help me) to yell less. (Sidenote: The reason I yell? Is because it’s the only thing that WORKS. The girls won’t listen to anything else…..but I will try, nevertheless.)

5. I will try to schedule more time alone with Deputy Dad. (Yes, everything has to be scheduled at our house.)

There. Five resolutions for 2005. Are you happy now, Internet?

Hope you and yours have a safe, happy and healthy New Year. (Oh, and drinking and driving is for assholes. Don’t be an asshole.)

Out of the mouths of babes

The Drama Queen and Miss Attitude have recently realized there’s a certain power to Deputy Dad’s position as a Deputy Sheriff. When a speeding car passed us on the highway last week, the girls said, “Dad, are you gonna COP them?”

Baby Boy Six-Month Newsletter

Dear Baby Boy:

Last week (December 15th) you turned six months old. Happy half-birthday Little Man! I’ve been waiting to write your newsletter until after today’s six-month checkup. You weighed 18 lbs, 7 oz, and were 26 1/2 inches long. Daddy, the doctor and I discussed what a big boy you’re becoming and how perfect you are; you were happy and smiling, your usual charming self; and then it was time for your shots. Four of them. You screamed like……well, like someone was poking you with needles four. times. in. a row. It seemed like an eternity from the time the nurse gave you the first injection, until we could grab you up off the exam table and try to hug and kiss the pain away. Mommy and Daddy tried very hard to be brave, but it just hurt so much.

You’ve grown in leaps and bounds in the last month, Baby Boy. You’ve gone from rolling over to rolling over-and-over-and-over-and-over-and-over. You can also get on your tummy and turn yourself in any direction you want or even scoot yourself back and forth somewhat, further facilitating your ability to move your little baby body all over the place. It’s all very new and exciting, but here’s the problem: your Daddy and I have not yet baby-proofed the house. Now that you’ve found a way to get from Point A to Point B ALL BY YOURSELF, we’ve got to run around in a panic-induced hysteria, putting plastic thingies in the electrical sockets and locks on the cabinets before you decide to stick your tongue in an outlet or drink the Pine Sol. (Please don’t drink the Pine Sol, Son. I know it smells wonderfully fresh and piney, but Pine Sol costs money, and Mommy needs it for cleaning.)

A week before you turned six months, we fed you baby cereal for the first time. We had planned to wait until after the six-month mark to start any solid foods, but you were a HUNGRY little fella; and when you started eyeing the dogs like they were The Other White Meat, we knew we’d better get something a little more filling in that belly of yours. And you LOVED it. You just gobbled it up like you knew what you were doing, and now you’re eating cereal three times a day.

Once you got the hang of the cereal thing, we decided to start introducing fruits and vegetables. (“Fruits and veggies, meet Baby Boy. Baby Boy, meet the healthy stuff you’ll probably only eat as long as WE’VE got the spoon, or until you meet the arch nemesis – French Fries.”) Now, I am, apparently, a cruel and vindictive mommy; because for some reason I decided your very first non-cereal food would be……..avocado. (I giggle just thinking about it.) I was feeding you your cereal at suppertime; you got about halfway through, and I slipped you a bite of The Green Stuff. You stopped for a moment, but then carried on; so I was thinking, “Hey, maybe he actually likes it.” But after two or three more bites, you finally looked at me like, “What the……?” And Baby, you wrinkled up that adorable little nose of yours and you let me know that not only did you not like that yucky, cold, slimy, sinus-infection-looking, oh-my-god-what-were-you-thinking-MOM, green stuff; but you weren’t sure you’d ever trust me with that spoon again. I might have felt a little guilty if you hadn’t been so delightfully entertaining. In an effort to regain your trust, I gave you mashed banana a few days later; you seemed to like that better, but you still eyed me suspiciously before each bite.

Your doctor said your gums look like you might be teething. God help us. You’ve been chewing on everything and drooling like a toothless basset hound since you were 2 1/2 months old. If you’re just now really starting to teethe……well, I guess Daddy and I will have to form a bucket brigade to keep the drool from flooding the house.

In addition to the rolling, eating, chewing and drooling, here are a few of your favorite things: bounce-bounce-bouncing in your bouncy car (or anywhere else, for that matter); hugging, touching, watching, and playing with your sisters (and they adore the attention and are always happy to reciprocate); touching and pulling Mommy’s hair and earrings; pulling Daddy’s chest hair (ouch! Poor Daddy!); flirting with women everywhere we go (Now, really….what is UP with that? Can you please NOT do that in front of your Mommy? EVER? And you KNOW none of those women are good enough for you!); nursing; reading your naptime and bedtime books (reading…chewing…whatever); and generally being good-natured, absolutely adorable and utterly irresistible.

Baby Boy, as I sit here typing this on the eve of your first Christmas Eve, I want you to know how very much I love you and how thankful I am that God gave you to us. You are such a precious, precious baby boy; and you have absolutely filled our lives with joy.

I love you, my Sweet Baby, my Little Man, my Big Boy.

Love,
Mama

Christmas Countdown

In light of the impending holiday, a, um, slight variation on the Twelve Days of Christmas:

12 – Times this evening I’ve had the urge to scream and throw something.
11 – Times I’ve successfully resisted that urge.
10 – Total copies of the annual family video compilation I need to dub and mail.
9 – Copies left to go.
8 – Consecutive hours of sleep I need.
7 – Rolls of cookie dough consumed for medicinal purposes.
6 – Months of breastfeeding remaining, before I can begin to properly drown my sorrows.
5 – Consecutive hours of sleep I might get tonight, if the stars align in my favor and heaven smiles upon me.
4 – Days until Christmas, OH. MY. GOD.
3 – Stockings hung by the TV with care. (We have a fireplace, but no mantle. That’s another story.)
2 – Daughters out of school, and thus spending their days bickering and yelling and making life a living hell for everyone around them, especially their mother, who is on the verge of a nervous breakdown anyway.
1 – Melancholy mommy.

God help us, it’s almost Christmas.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Miss Attitude, exasperated with her sister: “She’s DRIVING on my NERVE!”

(I, of course, had to turn around and walk out of the room. No way could I maintain my composure.)

Does this make me Beavis or Butthead?

When I got to work this morning, the crew who is working on our roof had parked one of their big ol’ roof-reaching-and-working-on machines at the end of the parking lot. And the name printed on said machine, in big, bold text for all the world to read?

SUPER ERECTION SYSTEM.

And I’ve been giggling about it all day.

Apparently, my exhaustion has turned my brain into an eleven-year-old boy.

3:00 AM Mumblings

Me: You know, there are parts of me that aren’t so tired, that really wanna have sex right now.

Hubby: There are?

Me: Yeah, but the rest of my body told ‘em to shut up and go to sleep

Yule Log

There’s a can of cinnamon air freshener in the ladies’ restroom at work. Yep, that’s right, folks. If you’re, um, lucky(?) enough to walk in at just the right moment, the air is heavy with the scent of festive holiday shit.

He Likes It! Hey Mikey!

Baby Boy had baby cereal for the first time last night. I had planned to wait until he was exactly six months old before starting solids; but our big boy was HUNGRY. He was no longer satisfied with only the contents of Mama’s boobs. He was also trying to eat Mama’s face, Daddy’s fingers, his sisters’ hair, his own fists, and anything else he could get in the vicinity of his mouth. And, since he turns six months next week anyway, we decided to go ahead and try the cereal.

Good grief, was Baby Boy excited! He’s been trying to eat our food for a while now (which is one of the signs that a baby’s ready to try solids, by the way), so he was happy to see the spoon coming at his face for a change. He ate every bite, and then tried to eat the bowl. Actually, he tried to eat the bowl BEFORE he had eaten all the cereal, because, as I said before, he tries to eat EVERYTHING he can get his little mitts on. (Takes after his Mama that way.)

So, I guess our baby has officially started solids now. Which will totally screw up things. ‘Cause, you know, one of the best things about a baby that’s exclusively breastfed is not having to mess with bottles or powders or bowls, or any other accoutrements that go along with formula-fed or food-eating babies. Not to mention what this will do to the whole diaper situation. Baby Boy typically poops once every four or five days, which is perfectly normal for a breastfed baby, and may I say very convenient. And breastmilk poop, although not necessarily pleasant – “pleasant poop” would have to be an oxymoron, don’t you think? – is certainly nothing like that slap-yo-Mama stench that escapes the bowels of formula-fed babies. (Now, let me pause here and say I am not, repeat, NOT, criticizing anyone for giving their baby formula. No nasty comments necessary. I’m simply expounding on the differences in the poopage of breastfed and formula-fed babies. I now return you to regular programming…) Starting solids is sure to change not only the frequency of said poopage, but also the odor/texture/consistency factors. I’m figuring he’ll either be constipated or will begin releasing noxious emissions on a daily basis. (Note: “emissions” didn’t sound quite right there, so I looked it up at Dictionary.com. Submit: “A substance discharged into the air, especially by an internal combustion engine.” Yep, that pretty much sums it up.)

So, score one for Gerber Rice Cereal and the advancement of baby bowel movements. And you know you can totally expect more posts about poop. Now there’s something to look forward to.

To sleep, perchance to dream

I’m happy to report we’re finally getting some sleep at our house. After what seemed like months of sleepless nights, but was probably closer to two or three weeks, we (or, more accurately, I, since Deputy Dad not only works nights, leaving me to tend to things until he gets home around 2:00 AM, but is also hard of hearing and therefore tends to sleep THROUGH all the getting-up-with-the-baby drama. But I’m not bitter.) finally decided to go ahead and Ferberize Baby Boy. Now, don’t go leaving me nasty comments about how cruel this method is and what a terrible mother I am for letting my baby cry it out. We used the Ferber method with both of the girls; and, even though the first night is gut-wrenching and heartbreaking, the fact is…it totally works.
Baby Boy had gotten to the point where he was getting up to nurse every couple of hours; and, in between, I was making hundreds of trips back and forth to his room to put that damn pacifier back in his mouth. (Curse you, Pacifier, for thou art Evil Incarnate!) He wasn’t sleeping, I wasn’t sleeping, and we were both getting crankier by the moment. My normally sweet, good-natured, little full-of-smiles baby boy was becoming fussy and grumpy all day long. In addition to not sleeping at night, he wouldn’t nap during the day. We were in a sleepless H.E.L.L.
But now. NOW. Now my little angel-boy is going to bed between 7:30 and 8:00, without the evil pacifier in his face, sleeping through the night (Did you hear that, People? Yes, that’s right. SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT!!!), and getting up at 6:00 AM. That means my baby boy, at less than six months old, is sleeping……let’s see…..carry the one……TEN WHOLE FREAKING HOURS!!!!!!!!! (There are simply not enough exclamation marks in the world to express my utter joy here.)

Now, does that mean that Mama is getting ten hours of sleep? Hell, no. Of course not. Because, after I get all the kids to bed, I’ve always got eleventy-million things left to do. But, once I DO finally get to bed, I get to sleeeeeep. To sleeeeeeeeeep, do you hear me? Without trekking to the baby’s room every twenty minutes. Without feeding him every couple hours. Without interruption……no, wait. That’s not completely true. Because there’s still the issue of the buzzsaw in the bed next to me. Hmm. Maybe I should stick the pacifier in HIS mouth.