Unplanned Parenthood

Awake

I can't sleep.  I slept horribly last night.  It's 10:30 and I'm not even remotely tired tonight.  It's a vicious cycle: can't sleep, get frustrated about not sleeping, frustration causes anxiety, anxiety replaces sleep...and repeat.

I think I've inherited Vanessa's insomnia.  Thanks, Cuz.

The Weekend

It occurs to me that I need to either stop waiting until I have pictures downloaded in order to post or get better about downloading pictures.  In the interest of ever writing anything, I'm going with the former.

This weekend, I survived three things of which I'm proud.  They were not a Fun Three Things, but I survived them and for that I am thankful and (brace yourself for cheesy) empowered.

1.  Thing the first:  Jack had to get stitches on Saturday.  We were lounging in bed Saturday morning, he lost his balance and fell directly down onto the windowsill next to my bed, splitting his chin wide open.  Until Saturday, I had no idea how much chin injuries bleed and, I'm sorry to say, I now know that they bleed A LOT.  I grabbed him, slid into flip-flops and drove to the ER.  We walked into Children's Hospital, covered in blood, me on the verge of tears and shaking and Jack grinning like a little maniac.  Five hours, a horrendous 1/2 an hour with him strapped to a papoose board, and three stitches later, we emerged into the bright, afternoon sunlight and trudged back home.  We both napped and he awoke cheerful and sprightly and, in the interest of avoiding further injuries and infecting the wound with playground sand, we went to Ikea to play in the children's area and eat macaroni and cheese.  Fancy!  I stopped by BRU and purchased their last Crib Tent.  He was snug as a bug and I felt relieved knowing that he couldn't climb out of his crib.  He went to bed easily and I sat on the couch like a deer in headlights.  He'll never remember this.  I will never forget it.  But, the point is, I survived.  We survived and, as the wonderful nurses reminded me, chances are that it won't be our last visit to the ER.

2.  Thing the second:  Laundry at the laundromat with a toddler.  I didn't have a choice, as we were down to our last bits of clothing and there's no possible way to do laundry during the week given our schedule.  Sunday morning I sorted laundry at home, loaded it, the stroller and us into the car and braced myself on the way to the little laundromat in Elmwood by our house.  I strapped Jack into the stroller (let's get a shout out for the 5-point harness!  Woo!), and staggered with a massive bag of laundry into the mat.  Into the washer it went, and across the street to Nabolom we went, for our Sunday morning coffee and cinnamon twist (me) and whole grain bar (him).  We hung out with another kid Jack's age and checked out the doggies in attendance and did some people watching.  27 minutes later, back over to the laundromat, switched clothes to the dryer and put another obscene load of quarters into machines.  50 minutes on the clock.  I know the Golden Rule: don't leave your laundry unattended.  There's no way Jack will remain strapped into a stroller for another hour.  Briefly consider my options and decide that I'd rather have all of our clothes stolen than try to entertain Jack in a laundromat for an hour.  To Willard Park we go!  We had a great hour playing with lots of kids Jack's age, I finished my coffee and it was a beautiful morning.  I suffered the Toddler Wrath when I loaded him back into the stroller, went back to get our clothes, suffered further wrath when I deigned to fold the clothes before putting them in the bag and WE DID IT!  We walked out with clean clothes!  We don't smell this week!

3.  Thing the third: running with the jogging stroller.  Holy crap.  No one bothered to mention that running while pushing a jogging stroller containing a 25 pound kid is about 982374982734 times harder than just running.  And running is really hard for me, anyways.  But!  I didn't fall down, Jack loved going fast and I feel like maybe I got a decent arm workout during the brief sprints I did.  It was a short run, but at least now I know I have the coordination to do it and someday (maybe) I will be strong enough to run longer than, oh, a half mile.

So, those were our victories this weekend.  Also, I did the Jillian Michaels' workout last night, which Jack thought was hilarious.  Every time I got down on the floor to do abs he came over and sat on my stomach and started bouncing up and down.  Thanks, kid.  The full minute straight of crunches wasn't hard enough on its own.

12 month check up, 3 months late, because I am awesome.

You know what makes you feel awesome?  When you take your child to the pediatrician and they ask, "So, when was his last checkup?" and you have to answer honestly because you know the records are on their way.  "Uh, March?" I answer?  Like I'm asking a question?

I swear I'm not a horrible parent.  We were supposed to go in June, but then there was some emotional trauma (am selfish!) and then the new job and moving and...anyway!  Hi new doctor!  How are you?

Jack weighs 25 pounds and is 31 1/2 inches tall (long?  when do you make the switch?  when they're upright?) (that makes me think of a vacuum).  He spent the entire visit trying to escape the exam room (what doctor's office puts LEVER handled door knobs on their doors?  I ask you!) and I spent the whole time leaning nonchalantly against the door, trying to prevent him from leaking out.  He is a sneaky one.

Today, when I picked him up from daycare, he both waved bye-bye (FIRST TIME) and blew kisses to his friend Kyle, Kyle's parents and his teacher (ANOTHER FIRST).  I was...dumbfounded.  I think he's suddenly going through a developmental leap.  He is attempting lots of new words, and now the waving and blowing kisses and the utter, utter frustration at everything he attempts to do but doesn't have the skill for.

It's coming.  My baby is turning into, like, a real person.

Best Invention: Oil change, car wash and FROZEN YOGURT in one building. Brilliant.

[ed. I wrote this yesterday, but yesterday turned into a major disaster with no nap, blood draws and 3 hours in a doctor's office to be told he has a virus.  So, here's something I wrote yesterday morning.  Can I get any lazier?]

Jack has a doctor’s appointment this afternoon and due to various logistics, it’s easier for me to work from home than try to navigate public transportation in a timely manner to get to and from work during “non-commute times.”  And if you think I’m paying $30 a day to park in downtown SF, you’re insane.  I refuse purely on principal.  So, I’m doing what I do best and multi-tasking.  I’m getting my oil changed, my car washed, my laundry done and working all at the same time.  Impossible you say?  Au contraire.

Jack’s cold has turned into major chest congestion that just won’t go away, so I’m going with the “better safe than sorry” approach and making sure he doesn’t have an upper respiratory infection.  I have horrific fears of pneumonia and dark visions of seeing my child under an oxygen tent.  I’ve never had pneumonia and I’ve never actually seen an oxygen tent, but if it’s anything like my imagination, I’d like to avoid it at all costs.  Ten bucks says he has a cold and there’s nothing they can do.  Sorry your kid sounds like a pack-a-day smoker!

September is absolutely gorgeous in the bay area.  The fog subsides (mostly), we get cool, crisp evenings and mornings and warm sunny days.  You just can’t beat it.  The farmer’s markets are teeming with brightly colored fruits and vegetables, harvest festivals boast pumpkins, hayrides and petting zoos, and the nip in the air evokes longing for butternut squash, apple crisp and a new scarf. 

Bruises

We didn't get up to a whole heck of a lot this weekend, except for the learning to throw oneself out of one's crib and the immensely scary fall off the chair onto the tile floor.   He's perfectly fine, of course, but I had about 15 heart attacks in the last 48 hours.  Do they make padded suits for toddlers?

Here's a picture of the shiner from the crib fall (this picture does not do this bruise justice.  His whole right eye lid is purple.).

We went to the park this afternoon and then we both took a nap.  We spent a lot of quality time together, just lounging around.

I opened the fridge this afternoon and it took me by surprise to find a horse in the door.

I guess this is less scary than finding a horse head in your bed?  I imagine.  Although, I will say that it took me a good long moment to figure out what the hell that was and then I had a good giggle about how crazy it is to live with a toddler.  No, really.  It's kind of like living in a nut house.

And then there's this:

I wish I could say that I was doing something fun while the little bugger got into mischief, but the sad, sad truth is that I encouraged him to do this, to make a lake out of my kitchen, because it was a distraction while I loaded the dishwasher.  And that's probably the lamest thing I've ever written about.

Actually, this whole post is lame, but I felt like writing a little something and posting some newly downloaded pictures.  You'll never get these 5 minutes back.  You're welcome.

I have no idea why I'm awake. And don't get me started on the crib.

I've been awake since 4:35 a.m.  I feel good!  Rested!  It's still dark outside!

Maybe it's because I went to bed at 8:30 p.m. last night.  Do you think I can qualify for the senior citizen's early bird discount at the diner?  Because seriously.  Pretty soon I'm going to start eating dinner at 4:00 in the afternoon and shaking my fist at "those damn kids upstairs, making all the racket."

Yesterday morning we went to the Berkeley Farmer's Market and stocked up on lots of good fruits and veggies (and one organic apricot thumbprint cookie which was delicious) and some local bread and honey.  We came home, put stuff away, cleaned up a little (me) and dragged out more Duplo blocks (Jack) and then it was nap time.  Scream, scream, scream, refuse to sleep, scream some more.

Finally, at about 12:30 p.m., I put him in his crib, told him I loved him and to have a good nap, resolutely shutting his door behind me.  There was some yelling and shaking of the crib rails, but I felt confident that a) it was SO naptime and he would give up quickly and b) I could really use a break and some lunch.  I was standing at my refrigerator, debating whether to take the time to cook up some veggies or be really lazy and make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, when there was a sudden thump, a pause and then a wail.

You know the sound of that thump when you just know, with every ounce of your being that something different and quite possibly bad just happened?  I'm used to the shaking of the crib rails, the slapping of the walls, and the whine of frustration - it usually lasts for anywhere from 10-30 seconds before Jack passes out.  What can I say?  Play hard, fight hard, sleep hard.

ANYWAY, with my heart in my mouth, I sprinted the 15 feet from my kitchen to Jack's door, knowing deep down what I would find:  my child on the OUTSIDE of his crib.  Standing in his room with the beginnings of a bruised eye and cheek.  I quickly picked him up, held him while he cried (he was scared more than anything), and when I was sure it was nothing more than a little bruise, I felt like crying myself.  No, no, not because my child hurt himself.  Not because he did something where he had the potential to really hurt himself.

Because MY CHILD CAN GET OUT OF HIS CAGE CRIB AND MY LIFE IS OVER.  My only saving grace is that he can't reach his doorknob and therefore can't escape his room.

Jack is a climber, an escape artist and a stubborn, strong-willed child who goes to bed very easily and well if he's in a crib that he knows he can't escape from.  When I put him in bed at night, 90% of the time he doesn't make a peep, just lays down and goes to sleep or talks to himself for awhile and then nods off.  The other 10% of the time there is a whine, maybe a cry of indignation, and then silence.  A toddler bed is basically just a big funhouse trampoline.  I honestly don't know what I'm going to do.

Yesterday he had a 20 minute nap in the car and didn't go to bed until 8:20 when he was staggering around in a stupor and I figured he was too weak to throw his leg over the crib rails.

Does anyone out there have any suggestions?  I'm assuming a barbed wire fence at the top of his crib rails is "overkill" and possibly "illegal," but I'm open to any and all advice on this one.

I'm all hopped up on coffee, it's 6:13 a.m. and I think I'll mop the floor and keep an ear out for the thump of my son heaving himself onto the floor.

Randomness without the bullets because I'm too lazy

I have strep throat which totally pisses me off because this is a weekend when I am kid-free and had grand plans for yoga classes and cookie baking and dinner with friends and now it's all CANCELED because of STUPID BACTERIA.  I am on antibiotics, slept most of the day yesterday and I feel mildly better (i.e. can sometimes swallow without crying) and now I'm just getting angry about being sick.  Which, I suppose, is evidence that I'm feeling better than yesterday when I just felt pathetic.

ANYWAYS, I originally thought I would start my reading project with American Pastoral but have since changed my mind because I've always wanted to read Housekeeping and I had it on my shelf, whereas I ordered American Pastoral from half.com and accidentally left it at work but finished the other (non-list) book that I was reading and having a book at the ready is just unacceptable.  Wow.  That was a serious run-on sentence that I am too lazy to fix.  All that mess is just to say that you can see I changed the book over there and that's why.  Not that you cared.  I don't even care.

I'm wondering: if I bake cookies while I'm sick, will the strep virus get into the cookies, making them inedible?  Will the 350 degree oven kill the bacteria?  But if I touch the cooled ones?  I'm looking or something constructive to do.  Laundry just doesn't fit the bill because hi!  BORING.

OMG, I just took a drink of my coffee and I thought it was mostly empty but it clearly wasn't because I just spilled half a cup of coffee down the front of myself and on the couch.  I am awesome.

Okay, this is whole post is just going downhill fast and I don't even remember why I thought I had something to say because clearly I don't.

Look!  Baby pictures!

And, most importantly, post haircut:

Hi LITTLE BOY.  I actually cut his hair myself because he was a Cranky Crab all weekend and I just did it on a whim while he was distracted by playing in the kitchen sink.  I didn't do a fantastic job and it's much, much shorter than I wanted it, but holy shit are these toddlers wiggly little dudes.

As visions of (organic, free-range) sugar plums danced through her head

It's no secret that I love food.  LOVE.  There is only one food in the whole world (so far) that I just can't eat: beets.  I've tried.  I will try again.  I will likely try again and again until I (hopefully) learn to like them.  And I know that this is the correct passage to the land of Getting Your Toddler to Eat, but man, is it a tough road to ho.

In general, I eat very healthy.  Whole foods, lots of veggies and fruit, whole grains, little sugar, etc.  (Please note that I am neither perfect nor judge-y.  I am the first to grab a slice of birthday cake and I love me some cheese enchiladas.)  I spent a whole lot of time mixing up baby food concoctions for Jack and offering him a healthy array of food.  I always offer bites of what I'm eating and we eat dinner together in the evenings.

In my naive, first-time mother brain I imagined my child eating the way I do.  Look how healthy he is with the fruits and vegetables and grains!  He loves salad!  I know!  Isn't it amazing how he just eats everything on his plate?

Jack currently eats:
Chicken nuggets (organic!  whole grain breading!)
Applesauce (first crush!  organic!  sometimes with berries!)
Mac and Cheese  (Annie's!  Organic!)
Scrambled eggs (Organic!  Free-range!)
Waffles (Eggo!  Cinnamon Toast!)

And...that's it.   I've done my best to make the things that he will eat as healthy as possible, but it is exasperating to be faced with these choices every day and I'm not even the one eating it.  I know it's a phase, I know that eventually (maybe?  by the time he's 25?) he'll start eating a wider variety of foods.  I've tried only offering veggies, fruits, etc. and he just refuses to eat until he has a stomach ache and is upset because hi!  He's starving.  He will not relent.  He will not eat anything I offer him unless it is one of the above foods and if I manage to sneak it in, he gags it out onto the tray and gives me a disparaging stare.  I'm trying to be patient.

I've thought about getting one of those cookbooks where you sneak the food in, but I don't know.  I want him to like foods for what they are.

I know, I know.  Sigh.

(Wendy, this one's for you.  Please send help.)

She's a little "bookish," if you know what I mean

So, if you look at my right sidebar over there ======================> you'll see that I've started a new endeavor.  I am working my way through 100 novels and trying to make myself keep track of it and read mindfully.

Check it.