Archive for February, 2008

Rebirth

Holy cow this week is over.  I can’t imagine being happier to have a week pass.  I’ll barely remember this week years from now, heck, I barely remember it today.  I was sick beyond the level of typical human malady.  I was zombie sick.  It was horrific.

Somehow I still managed to push out some work this week.  Apparently fevers help the creativity…?  Or, at least makes me care less about the end product enough to say that something is finished with less agonizing over the details. Let’s face it, very few people are able to see the minuscule aspects of what I do.  Most don’t even notice the dramatic changes, so I should probably step away from Photoshop about an hour before I actually do.  Ah, perfectionism.  The little troll I love to feed.

During these dark days a few things happened.  Gideon popped out two more teeth (with very little drama).  Jud painted things at our house (in spite of our agreement that he would step away from the paintbrushes.  He is anxious to get those baseboards done, God love him).  Chris finally got kicked off of Project Runway (thank goodness!). 

The moral of the story is to beware the zombies and their zombie trances.  You could miss wonderful, tragic, satisfying events.  So wash your hands more and for Pete’s sake keep them out of your mouth!

Morning Surprise

I have this fear for Gideon that years from now will make him cringe at the thought of me writing about it, which is why I have yet to say anything.  In general, I try to keep the stuff of great embarrassment off of the internet.  I realize that flies in the face of YouTube and, probably, blogging in general, but one day he may read these things and I hope that I will not have to peel his feelings off the floor afterwards. 

The rule is usually not that difficult to follow.  If I wouldn’t want someone to tell the story about me, then I don’t post it.  Not hard.  Of course, I’m a pretty open person, so the off limits category is fairly small…bodily functions, supremely moronic activities that betray the brain cells I still have, run ins with the law, etc. 

This one may be in violation of the rule, but since you are a boy, Gideon, I hope you are okay with all this typing. If not, it is much too late to take it down, so take comfort in knowing that all of your friend’s mothers have forgotten this years ago.

Anyway, here is my fear. Constipation.

If you have a kid, you probably have had the fear too.  It’s a rational one.  I’ve known kids that refused to eat vegetables at all and they scream while going to the bathroom.  I’ve known babies that have held it for a week and then had eruptions on an air plane equivalent to sewage lines bursting. I’ve heard of a baby with a fissure (that’s a real thing….somebody has it).

In an effort to stave off the kid getting backed up, I encourage food consumption that includes plenty of fiber and avoid the usual stuff that binds like bananas, applesauce and cheese. Instead he gets oatmeal and spinach and bran muffins and fiber one bars.  Okay, maybe not some of those. But, you get the picture.   

Yesterday, after lunch I grabbed a couple of dried plums (aka prunes) as a sweet snack to end the meal.  Gideon wants whatever I eat, so he immediately started his food grunt that means “hey, lady, give me some of that goodness, you’re munching on.”  I put a few small pieces in his mouth and as it turns out, he really likes prunes.  Congratulations, baby! You are very much like your Poppy. 

Gideon has been sleeping through the night (what!? That is awesome!  I know!) for about a week and then sleeping in until nearly 8 am.  This means that everyone else is gone to work when he finally starts jabbering in his crib.  No one is happy that he is sleeping later, except for me.  They were all so used to getting their morning jolt of baby cuteness to get them through the next grueling nine hours away from him that the withdrawal from it is starting to eat at their nerves.  I’d say two extra cups of coffee should help. 

This morning, just before eight, I hear a funny baby cry.  It’s not sad.  It’s not the normal babbling.  It sounds a little urgent, so I move quickly to his room.  He’s pressing his head against the side and leaning to his right side, trying to keep from sitting down.  I picked him up right away and laid him down to change his diaper (he almost always has a poopy diaper in the morning, unless we go in to his room too early and he doesn’t have time to read the paper and have his cigarette). 

When I unsnapped his pajamas, there was poo everywhere.  Up his back. Down the legs. In every little chubby leg roll. He was right, it was something to cry urgently about.  There was no way to save the situation with baby wipes. Even industrial strength wipes would not have done the trick. 

Off to the bathtub, where the hungry, confused baby did not have a good time. I removed all of the remnants from his backside and leg folds. Clean again and ready for breakfast, he ate his Cheerios while I threw away the nasty diaper and pajamas, put the towels into the washing machine and washed my hands a few times.

Lessons I learned:

1. Do not fear constipation. Dried plums will rescue you.

2. Do not eat said plums unless constipation is near. 

3. There are some things that soap and water cannot fix, in which case, that is why God gave us trash bags. 

Pictures on WordPress = Too much work

Yes.  I am lazy.

But I understand that you need to see Gideon in his glory.  His this-close-to-walking glory.  His I-almost-have-a-third-tooth glory. 

I understand. 

Just go here to see them. 

(A trusty little link to this Flickr account will eventually be over there on the side.)

Wishing Allison Were Near

We finally started painting our house.  The trim priming is under way.

If you’ve got some time and are good at painting, come on by this week to lend a hand.

Tuesday – 7:00-10:00 pm

Wednesday – 7:00-10:00 pm

Friday – 7:00-11:00 pm

Saturday – 8:00ish-exhaustion

Call the Popo

Yesterday while Gideon and I were playing in the office a white Ford Explorer was driving up the street. My parent’s new house is the only one on the street right now, so anybody driving around here is interesting.  This car was even more interesting because the driver’s window was down. Ordinarily, I’d just assume it was a smoker who was attempting to keep the stink to a minimum, but the temperature and the wind yesterday would’ve kept even the most nicotine craved soul from rolling down their window completely.  So, I kept watching  them as they rolled past the house and as the guy while still looking forward, took pictures of the house with a digital camera.

Creepy?  Yes. Even creepier? They parked their car just on the other side of the house and idled there for almost an hour. 

We’re suspicious people so when Jud came upstairs I told him about it and he called the cops.  A member of the sheriff’s department finally rolled up and got some info from the guy, but didn’t make him leave. The cop left and the car remained.  In fact, he stayed right where he was, idling just in front of a stop sign, until my parent’s came around the corner to pull into their driveway. He drove around the corner, window down and took more pictures of the house from the back. 

Hopefully the dude is a builder in the neighborhood who was checking out what kinds of awesome homes are being put up around here. Or maybe he’s really into the stone work on the outside of the house.  Or maybe he’s a psycho killer who is scouting out his next victims.  In that case, I imagine the conversation with the cop went something like this:

Psycho Killer: What seems to be the problem officer?

Cop: Well the people in this house right here called to see what you were up to.

Psycho Killer: Oh, I’m just trying to get all my ducks in a row before I bust inside this place, hack up those people who called you and eventually torch the whole thing.

Cop: Hmm.  Can I see your license for a second?  I’m going to want to have your name on file after this thing makes it to America’s Most Wanted.

Or, you know, something similar.

Where Did All Those Days Go?

So sorry for not posting sooner.  I really appreciated all of the emails and phone calls and Wednesday night meal conversations filled with encouragement about sleep habits.  I meant to call/write you back.  As always, I am well intentioned with crap for follow through.

During the writing hiatus we helped my parents box up their earthly possessions and move them across town.  Then we promptly began sanding down baseboards in order to rid ourselves of the golden oak.  Baseboards, ye shall be white!  This was after meeting with our lovely designer mom-daughter team who helped choose a lovely taupey color called Sanderling for the walls.  I’m sure you will love the new look.  If you don’t, just keep it to yourself because Jud has very long arms and is good at punching.

Gideon is sleeping, um, better?  The same-ish? I’m not totally sure because we are no longer listening to the crying due to the expanse of this new place (we’re staying at my parent’s house until the dust/fumes dissapate) and the ability to turn down monitors very low.  So, I am feeding him once at midnight and then letting him do his own thing until any time after 6:00 am.  And I am feeling much better with six solid hours of sleep.  The ped doc, who is a lovely woman, said she agreed that at 9 months he should be sleeping better and that we should stop going in more than once at night. She also said that he is a genius (right after he called me Mama in her office) and that he is in the 50th percentile for height but less than that for weight.  There’s no concern about his weight just yet but if it drops off, percentage wise, at 12 months than we may need to be a little more aggressive.  In the meantime, I am pumping this kid full of food and he is loving it.  Chicken? Loves.  Roast Beef? Yes please. Waffles? Sent from heaven. Broccoli? Delicious!  Baby food? That was so eight months.  Nine months = whatever Mama is eating. 

And finally, in the never ending saga of bill paying and fighting the Man, we are battling it out with the phone/internet people over a $75 deposit they want to require. We have supremely excellent credit.  It is scrumptious and smells like wildflowers.  That deposit is a big old scam and I am not going to give in.  That’s $75 for window treatments or hardware or new shoe molding or jeans. Good luck, suckas! You don’t have any idea who you are messing with and I can’t wait to return your call.