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December 27, 2004
We got a Deep Space 9 DVD from Netflix the other day. I popped it in the DVD player, and as the opening credits were coming up, Zeke passed by the TV set, paused, and then said, "That's Star Trek!"
"Yes, Zeke, that is Star Trek! Do you like Star Trek?"
Pause. Thoughtful look.
"Yeah... Star Trek is at Grandma's house!"
(My mom is a big ST: Enterprise fan.)
Posted by Jan at 11:52 PM | Comments (0)
December 24, 2004
Picture time!
First, an incredibly crappy shot of our Christmas tree, complete with small fry:
Less tree, more small fry:
And now a picture of the snow, which is currently really on my nerves. These pictures are from yesterday, when there was more snow and less ice than there is now, but you get the idea:
This is Radio Free Antarctica, signing off.
Posted by Jan at 10:49 AM | Comments (2)
December 21, 2004
When "gentle parenting" fails
I used to have all these ideas about disciplining gently but effectively and never losing my temper and always staying calm but in control, and so forth.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Dinner tonight:
Me: Zeke, are you going to eat any of your stew?
Zeke: No!
Me: Does that mean it's okay for me to eat your stew, since you are done with it?
Zeke: No! Don't eat my stew! That's my dinner!
Me: Okay, I won't eat it. Do you need a spoon?
Zeke: No!
Me: How are you going to eat your stew without a spoon?
Zeke: (doesn't answer; stares off into space)
Me: Zeke, are you going to eat your stew or not?
Zeke: I WILL NOT EAT IT!
Me: Fine! Then I will eat it!
Zeke: YOU WILL NOT EAT MY STEW!
Me: Zeke. (exasperated sigh)
We drop the issue for several minutes until dinner is almost over.
Me: Zeke, you are going to be hungry if you don't eat any of your dinner, and there will not be any snacks later.
Zeke: (appears to not have heard me)
Me: Okay, whatever. Will you just try one bite of lamb so that we can see if you like it or not? Maybe just one bite, and then we will know if you like it!
Zeke: THE EENSY WEENSY SPIDER LA LA LA LA LA!!!
Me: FINE, FORGET IT, I GIVE UP!
Keith: (looks alarmed)
Me: (leaves the kitchen abruptly, wondering how it's possible for one toddler to punch my buttons so effectively)
Zeke: (does not get any dinner. will probably be very upset about this later. is not getting a peanut butter sandwich or a piece of cheese, I don't care how often he asks for it. can have some leftover lamb stew if he wants. because I'm the Mommy and I said so.)
Posted by Jan at 7:11 PM | Comments (0)
Because I know you are all just DYING FOR MORE UPDATES that use the word "poop" repeatedly:
Zeke has now gone a whole day and a half without having an accident in his underpants! (This does not count overnight, when he did pee in his pull-ups, but that doesn't count, because I say it doesn't count and I am the one making the rules here.) Of course because I have said this, tomorrow he will refuse to go in the potty a single time and will create many messes which I will have to clean up, but I don't care, I am proud of him for today.
Wait, that didn't use the word "poop" at all. Except just now, I mean.
I'm going to archive these entries and print them into a scrapbook and when he is a teenager, I will tell him that if he does not clean his room, I am going to show them to his girlfriend when he brings her home to meet us before his senior prom.
You have to think ahead when you're a parent.
Posted by Jan at 12:45 AM | Comments (0)
December 18, 2004
We've made a command decision that from this point onward, Zeke will not be in diapers. We got some of those Pampers Pull-Ups from the store for outings, and around the house we're using training pants only. No more diapers! I have spoken!
He's still really bad about asking to go to the potty, so we expect lots of accidents, but I don't care, he's almost 3 and I think it's time to make a full-court press on this topic. So to speak. Besides, cleaning up a pair of training pants isn't that much different from cleaning up a diaper, so the total effort involved for me is about the same, if you don't count the endless hours of sitting in the bathroom waiting for Zeke to either poop or get off the pot. So to speak.
It is impossible to write about this topic without sounding ridiculous. I give up.
Posted by Jan at 10:55 AM | Comments (1)
December 13, 2004
The view from our front porch this morning.
Posted by Jan at 9:26 PM | Comments (0)
This morning we woke up to sub-freezing temperatures and a driving snow shower. Zeke looked out the window at the snow-covered street, and the cars that had a thin layer of snow piling up on top of them, and observed, "Mommy! The cars are cold!"
We've been putting up Christmas decorations around the house this morning. Stringing silver tinsel around the banister railing was particularly fun. We are now working on clearing out the section of living room in front of the window in preparation for the Christmas tree, although puzzle pieces and game boards are getting strewn through the area just about as fast as I can pick them up.
Oh, well. At least I moved the big stuff.
Posted by Jan at 10:40 AM | Comments (0)
December 9, 2004
Keith: Boy, Stazi hasn't been sleeping very well today.
Me: (holding Stazi) Yeah, that was a really short nap. Why was that such a short nap, melonhead? Go back to sleep.
Keith: Could be a growth spurt?
Me: Maybe, but she hasn't really been nursing more than usual.
Stazi: (sticks her hand down my shirt)
Posted by Jan at 9:47 PM | Comments (0)
December 6, 2004
So you see that cute baby being wheeled around in the grocery cart and you think idly that having kids would be really great. You see the adorable children giggling and playing in the park and you feel a little twinge at your uterus. Kids are so great, you think wistfully. Maybe I should have some one of these days.
So let me present you with a slightly different scenario, as a true test of whether you really, really, really want kids or not.
Your 9-month-old eats a big dinner and then it's time for her bath, so you carry her upstairs, but she screams at the very sight of the water, so you decide, okay, maybe no bath tonight because it seems to be traumatic. So you hold her on your lap and nurse her while you type up some emails. She finally nods off -- very adorable, I assure you -- and you carefully pick her up to quietly carry her down the hall and deposit her on her little sleeping mat.
Halfway down the hall she erupts like Mt. Vesuvius, spraying the contents of her last breastfeeding plus her entire dinner all over you, the hallway floor, and the bathroom. You manage to aim her at the toilet at the last minute but it doesn't really help that much. Soaking wet with baby vomit, you yell for your husband, and he doesn't hear you because he just started the dishwasher, so you yell louder, and then your two-year-old, who is still not asleep despite the fact that it is 10:30 PM, takes up yelling for Daddy too.
"Daddy! I NEED HELP!" you yell. A small voice pipes up, "Daddy! I need help!" "Thanks, Zeke," you mutter.
Your husband comes upstairs and helps clean up the baby while you take a shower and then clean up the bathroom floor. You figure that the baby has discharged all the contents of her tummy, so it's probably safe to lie down with her on her mat. You nurse her. She falls asleep. Just as you're about to get up and tiptoe away, she opens her eyes and then throws up everything in her stomach again. This time it looks like the most recent breastfeeding plus some of what she had for lunch.
Two more changes of clothes, some scrubbing of the sleeping mat, and a quick conference with your husband. You decide to try giving her one tablespoon of apple juice in a bottle. She slurps it down greedily and then passes out on her (scrubbed and flipped over) sleeping mat. Five minutes later she wakes up and throws it up too. This time you've had the foresight to put down towels so at least the mess is pretty well contained.
You clean her up again and this time let her fall asleep without giving her anything to eat or drink. She passes out pretty quick but you're worried. You stay up a few hours more working on a project for your job that's due the next day, going back to the bedroom to check on her and make sure she's still breathing and hasn't thrown up again, about every half hour.
You finally go to bed but you don't want to disturb her so instead of carrying her into your bed like normal, you just get a blanket and go to sleep next to her on the mat on the floor. Except it's not very comfortable and also she keeps kicking in her sleep restlessly, so you don't actually sleep all that much. Then she throws up again around 2 AM. And around 4 AM. This despite the fact that she hasn't eaten anything since 8 PM the previous evening. You tell your husband, when he leaves for work at 3:30, to expect a call telling him he has to come transport you to the doctor's office.
Against your better judgement, you nurse the baby around 4:30 AM, because she seems really hungry and you figure if her appetite is back, maybe that means she won't throw up. You are wrong. She throws up again. You change your clothes for the fourth or maybe fifth time, you've lost count, and contemplate sleeping naked but decide that would not be better.
You finally fall asleep next to her, and without thinking, automatically nurse her when she starts rooting around at 6 AM. You feel stupid and brace yourself for the coming deluge, but it never materializes. She falls asleep without throwing up. At 6:30 she still hasn't thrown up so you cautiously drift back to sleep yourself.
At 8:15 your toddler wakes up, bright-eyed and ready to go, and then the baby wakes up too, equally bright-eyed, and neither of them understand why Mommy is so bleary this morning and keeps muttering about coffee.
So. If after reading through all that, you still want kids, then I congratulate you, sir or madam, you're ready to be a parent. Because it's not all about the cute Kodak moments (although those are nice), it's about staying up all night with a sick baby because it is physically impossible for you to fall asleep when your baby is ill, and about sleeping on the floor because you are worried and don't want to leave your baby's side, and about caring less about losing sleep than about checking the baby's temperature for the fifteenth time, just to be sure everything is okay.
And now there's a tired Mommy who really needs to make some coffee.
Posted by Jan at 8:32 AM | Comments (0)
December 4, 2004
Back from symphony. Went well. Nobody barfed during the performance. Got compliment on well-behaved child.
Feel like just ran several back-to-back marathons. Glad we will not be doing this again any time soon.
Posted by Jan at 11:50 PM | Comments (0)
December 3, 2004
I have some gross kid stories to tell. If you are not interested in gross kid stuff, please leave now. And don't come back! We don't need your kind around here!
So, this morning I was rudely awakened by 1) a Horrible Stench, and 2) Stazi pounding on my head. These two things were probably related. Stazi is not fond of having wet and/or dirty diapers and will let us know at the first sign that things have gone south down south, if you follow my meaning. So I sighed and got up and carried her on my hip to the office, where I checked my work email -- while still standing, of course -- real quick-like just to make sure I wasn't about to miss any deadlines. (This is a morning ritual for me.)
In the midst of reading one of those pesky red-exclamation emails, I felt something gooey hit my foot. Yes, friends, Stazi's "Fuzzi Bunz" diaper finally gave up the ghost. There is nothing, I repeat nothing, like waking up and having the baby poop on your bare feet first thing in the morning.
So I started for the stairs to go change her, as this was clearly a matter of some urgency, when Zeke stumbled out of his room. Uncharacteristically, he did not announce, "Mommy! I woke up!" and it also looked like he was a little teary-eyed. This mystery was soon solved when I looked at the front of his footed sleeper, which was liberally festooned with upchuck.
I will spare you further cleanup details. Suffice it to say that sometimes when you're a mommy, you gotta look out for both ends. And, Zeke is doing just fine, after having one more episode this morning. He kept down his lunch with no problems. And Stazi's cute little bum is pink and clean as can be. See, sometimes in life there really are happy endings.
(Get it? Endings? Get it? ha?)
Posted by Jan at 3:01 PM | Comments (0)