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February 28, 2005
So earlier, Stazi pooped in the bathtub during her bath with Zeke, thus prompting the following exchange:
Keith: Zeke, come out of the tub. We do not take a bath in a bathtub that is full of poop.
Zeke: I want to take a bath!
Keith: Zeke, what is the purpose of taking a bath?
Zeke: (looks confused)
Mommy: (is laughing hysterically in the hallway)
Zeke: (confidently) Poop goes in the potty.
Keith: That's true, Zeke! Poop does go in the potty! Not in the bathtub!
Zeke: (looks proud)
Posted by Jan at 9:57 PM | Comments (1)
Today Zeke helped me make hummus. His favorite part was squeezing the lemons, although it was less than helpful when I turned my back for a few minutes to dump the tahini sauce into the food processor, and he carefully picked all the lemon seeds out of the juice strainer and deposited them in the measuring cup with the rest of the juice.
But we strained them out again and then ran the food processor, which was Big Fun, and afterward Zeke had tiny little hummus sandwiches on pita triangles. Interestingly, the last time I made these for him he wasn't terribly excited by them and didn't eat much. I think he liked them more because he helped.
Posted by Jan at 1:13 PM | Comments (0)
February 23, 2005
I spend more time these days planning the kids' nap schedules than I spent on some of my college classes. Getting them to nap at the same time is the Holy Grail, and I'm happy to report that lately we've been achieving it (more or less) on a daily basis. This makes a happy Mommy.
For awhile, Stazi was napping about six times a day for about ten minutes per nap. This was not optimal, to say the least. Then she started napping more, but only in the car. This was also suboptimal. I finally banned car trips during the day until we got her nap schedule back on track, and now we've worked out a very pleasant routine in which she naps for about an hour and a half, maybe two hours, right in the middle of the day. The only snag is that she usually starts feeling sleepy around 11:30, and Sesame Street isn't over until 12:30, so I wind up having to keep her awake until then, because no way am I letting her fall asleep a full hour before Zeke goes down for his nap.
See what I mean?
Anyway, after Sesame Street, we change diapers, read Zeke a book or two while Stazi alternately plays in his room and grabs desperately at my pants leg while piteously wailing and giving me an expression like "Why won't you let me go to sleep?" and then I tuck Zeke in and go lie down with Stazi. She usually falls asleep in about fifteen minutes. Zeke, on the other hand, stays awake in his bed flipping pages in books and playing weird little games with his trucks and cars for about half an hour, sometimes more, before he drops off.
And then I am free! Free I tell you! Free to... well, do some indexing, usually. But a girl takes what she can get, you know?
Posted by Jan at 5:12 PM | Comments (1)
February 22, 2005
I sometimes surf through blogs and journals written by other parents, because, you know, it's interesting to see how the other side lives. Something I run across from time to time is the ever-popular "Breastfeeding nazis" discussion. It doesn't take much to get people started on this topic. The merest mention of formula-feeding or breastfeeding will do it. People start chiming in with their comments about how they couldn't breastfeed for this, that, or the other reason, and they wish people would get off their backs about it, and lots of people post supportive pro-formula messages, primarily involving the phrase "turned out just fine," and then it gets really ugly, because everyone starts talking about the breastfeeding nazis. (Note use of lower-case to avoid confusion with actual Nazis, and doesn't it seem unbelievably offensive to you that we are associating breastfeeding mothers -- even strident, pushy breastfeeding mothers -- with a regime that attempted to systematically murder an entire race? Perhaps that's just me.)
Apparently, these women are everywhere. If I am to believe what I read on these other blogs and journals, it is nigh unto impossible to bottle-feed your baby in public without being accosted by a proselytizing, self-righteous person who will lecture you about how breastfeeding is best. The prepared bottle-feeding mother has a stock of pithy comeback lines ready to go, such as, "She's adopted; the last I checked, my udders are dry, but feel free to have a go if you don't believe me," or "The doctors told me I had to wean because of the chemo, but if you really think I should keep going..." and so forth.
Here's the thing, though. I've breastfed in public and I've bottlefed (expressed breastmilk) in public. I've done it on airplanes, on buses, on parade routes (as bystander, not participant), and in several states. And not once in three years has anyone ever made a single comment to me, pro or con, about either breastfeeding or bottle-feeding. I guess all the breastfeeding nazis were out harassing other mothers on the days I was bottle-feeding my babies.
My point, such as it is, is just that it's difficult enough to be a parent without manufacturing controversy where none exists. I'm not saying all these people made up their little stories about the mean, mean breastfeeding militia, but I do think a lot of stories are exaggerated for dramatic effect. Like, a lot. What in reality was a lifted eyebrow becomes a story about a five-minute-long harangue about the joys of breastfeeding.
To sum up: Everyone knock it off with calling other mothers names like "nazi" and "militia"; nobody give anybody else crap, not even a lifted eyebrow, about how they choose to feed their baby; and stop making up stories designed to provoke conflict. That is all.
Posted by Jan at 1:57 PM | Comments (1)
February 21, 2005
Everybody is sick. Except for me, as per usual. Stazi's had a low-grade fever for the past few days, accompanied by some of the most god-awful diapers I have ever seen or hope to see in my entire life. Just ask my sister; she had the good fortune (ha) of changing the first one, while we were visiting over at her place. We briefly considered calling in a Hazmat team, but then decided it would take too long and that Immediate Disposal was definitely the correct approach.
Then Zeke woke up this morning feeling ick. I heard him in his room saying, "Uh-oh! Uh-oh! UH-OH!" in progressively more alarmed tones, so I ran in to find him clutching his belly and making "urp" sounds. I tucked him under my arm like a football and deposited him in front of the toilet just in time. Then I gave him a glass of water. Which promptly came back up, all over the back of Keith's bathrobe, as he was carrying Zeke downstairs.
Good times.
The children are both napping right now and I hope it stays that way for awhile. Preferably with no further eruptions of bodily fluids, either.
Posted by Jan at 2:06 PM | Comments (1)
February 18, 2005
He's going to kill me for this when he's in high school
But I don't care, it's funny.
So last weekend, me and the kids went shopping with my mom. Mom was carrying Zeke into a store entrance when Zeke suddenly announced:
"You are hurting my penis."
Mom got this look on her face and solemnly said, "OK, why don't I put you down then?"
"Otay."
Then we giggled for the next fifteen minutes.
Posted by Jan at 11:44 AM | Comments (0)