Thursday 13: ZZZZZZ...... ZZZZZZZZZZ

Over the past couple of weeks my husband and I have been trying to ween The Baby off of falling asleep on his nightly bottle and in our arms. We feel that it's really important that he learn to fall asleep on his own and in his crib. It's been a slow, but steady process. We still want rocking or cuddling to be a part of his bedtime routine, just not what makes him sleep. We're at the point now were we give him a little bottle and rock him until he is content and sleepy (usually just a few minutes), then we put him in his crib. He cried a few times for short periods, fussed a little for a day or two, and has been drifting off on his own for about a week.

It's no wonder some babies and toddlers cry so much at the prospect of going to sleep. It can be a tough job -- even when you have a whole bunch of tricks up your sleeve.

13 things that help me fall asleep
1. Advil PM
2. Naming all the Native American tribes that I can think of
3. Naming all the bird/plants/snakes/fish that I can think of
4. “Flipping” our house mentally. I will think of walls to knock out, rooms to create and other ways to improve our house — in pretty intense detail.
5. Read a book. Currently I am reading Maeve Binchy’s “Evening Class.” So far, so good.
6. Read a magazine. We subscribe to Fast Company and Readers’ Digest (boo to RD for taking the art off of the back cover and selling it, btw!)
7. Watch TV. Either Sex in the City re-runs on TBS or Adult Swim on Cartoon Network — I know, way different ends of the spectrum.
8. Eat. Whoa, I don’t recommend this one to anyone.
9. Stumble on the Internet.
10. Assemble outfit combinations in my head. I never remember them in the morning, which is why it seems like I wear the same five outfits over and over and over.
11. Think of things to feed The Baby. Besides Cheerios and Puffs.
12. Think of different menus for me and my husband. Sometimes it seems like we have chicken every.single.night. Blah.
13. Tylenol PM (I’m not brand specific, it depends on what is on sale!)

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Internet dreaming

I’m in marketing and spend a fair amount of time contemplating the way consumers use a medium such as the Internet. Until today, I never really thought much about my own habits—past and present. I was just thinking about some of the things that I do online to occupy my mind, besides reading blogs and message boards. Some people read about politics or fashion. Or they read about their hobbies. Or catch up on the day’s news. I live vicariously. At least I used to.

• There was I time when I would pour over the Top 20 and 25 from Travel Zoo and Sherman’s Travel and all the deals from Caribbean Jim at Cheap Caribbean. I’ve been known to plan out (but not order, obviously) entire vacations over my lunch hour. I’m a dreamer. I can’t help it. Worth noting, I only dream about tropical beach vacations. I’ve only been on two. Couples Ochos Rios and Sun Village, Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic. *sigh* Heaven. Once, when I was on a real mission to book a vacation, I missed out on a great deal to Punta Cana because I failed to book it in time due to my fear of flying. Despite my coconut-island-get-away obsession, I need little blue pills to get on planes. Sometimes I need little blue pills just to buy the frickin’ tickets.

• I use to scour job boards and newspaper employment classifieds. I’ve been employed by the same company for a decade, yet I love to look and see what’s out there—especially in cities like New York. When I was single this was much more intense. I actually had a job that I “knew” I was going to get in NYC (I didn’t even get a lousy phone call) and was searching online for apartments in Tribeca. Heh.

• Much like hunting for jobs, I also like to look at real estate listings and even go to neighborhood open houses. I love to see other houses. I mostly dream in my own price-range (really!). I’m not looking for luxury. A closet bigger than a refrigerator would be nice, however. For awhile I had the lucky job of writing about multi-million dollar homes for a magazine. Talk about a fun place to hang out for the day! As the writer, I volunteered myself to also be the photographer’s assistant. Sometimes when you see a gorgeous home in a magazine spread, there is a writer hiding underneath the bed pulling the plug on a light at the photographer’s count of three. I’ve been under beds, behind tables, in Christmas trees and pressed obscenely close against the back of the photographer holding some kind of cardboard thing-y over his head while he snapped photos. Mostly, I just hung out and absorbed the lifestyle around me.

I think that this is how my dad must have felt when he poured over the pages of Auto Locator looking at cars that he had no intention of buying. I always wondered why he did that. Now I know.

Since having The Baby, I’m on The Nest or a parenting blog more than Trip Advisor. In fact, most of my Travel Zoo emails go unopened. I guess I can’t see myself lounging by the pool as easily as I once did or moving to another city. I love my neighborhood. It’s perfect for a family. And jobs? I don’t want to spend time thinking about working. Now, I daydream about staying home.

It’s funny how things change.

Growing brains

That’s right, growing brains, not pains, because I think that I might be losing my mind. I’m combining real life, blog life and TV. Plus, I’ve been weepy. Is this some sort of condition?

Just now, my colleague said she was going downstairs to pick up a DHL package that had arrived for her. Immediately I thought, “Are they the frozen butterflies that you’ve been waiting for?” I’m so glad that I kept my mouth shut, because the whole butterfly incident was a part of yesterday’s Two and a Half Men episode.

Sadly, I’ve also been intertwining the innerweb with my own life. I find myself drumming my fingers and wondering which friend/relative/coworker just went on vacation or just started a new job, only to realize that I read it on a blog. The feeling is kind of like when you completely black out on what you had for dinner the night before and then, all of sudden, the neurons in your brain make the appropriate connection and, bam! – pork chops and green beans.

These days, so much seems sureal. I think it is because time is going too fast. My mind literally can’t keep up. When I pick The Baby up in the afternoon, my eyes scan right over him. I panic, but there he is. He’s a toddler now. I think that I am sometimes still looking for a little baby to bundle up in his carrier. Instead I have to pull my little guy off whatever it is he is trying to scale (he’s a climber!). We go home where his swing, bouncer, baby toys and my pump are neatly packed away waiting for another little baby who will grow out of them way to fast.

*sniff*



Uh-oh
The Baby actually said this a long time ago, but forgot it (much like he learned and promptly forgot how to high five). He has rediscovered “uh-oh.” Nowadays, he likes to spend time dropping his Cheerios one-by-one on the floor and saying, “uh-oh.” It’s the first word, okay exclamation, that he’s used in context. We’re very proud.

Haiku Friday: Mud Pies

Dirty mouth, big smile.
The first fistful of dry Earth
Is good for the soul.

Thursday 13: Teeth

This week's Thursday Thirteen is a bit unconventional. Typically, it's a list, but I chose to focus on The Baby's teeth instead. As you'll note from my last post, The Baby just turned one. Despite having both sets of grandparents, fun new toys and a hunk of cake as big as his head to eat, throw, smear and stuff in his ear, The Baby was pretty miserable. In fact, he almost missed his own party due to exhausting himself by being a crank.

Why so miserable? Well, in the space of one week he went from having 9 teeth to having 13 teeth. Most are in, but still sore and one is still working its way out. OUCH. The poor kid starts salivating upon site of the Baby Orajel and has his mouth wide open before we're even in arm's reach.

Now, if anyone has any advice as to how I get a one-year old to open his mouth so that I can brush his teeth, do tell... I'm at a loss. My husband and I have been basically letting him chew on his brush because he won't open his mouth for us.

Tooth-growing genius

I hoped The Baby would excel at something, who knew it would be growing teeth?!

Happy Birthday, Baby!

The Baby is one. I can hardly believe it!

Sorry for the lack of posts lately. I generally post, or at least write them, on my lunch break, but I've been so busy in the last week that I have been working though my lunch. I don't miss the pump room, but that time made it a lot easier for a working mom to blog!

Anyway, I couldn't resist putting some photos together to brag for your viewing pleasure. Happy Hump Day and Happy Birthday, Baby!

Me vs. The Cat

I was so mad on Sunday that I could have shoved The Cat out the door without a second thought. We’ve had our differences. He walks around the house and caterwauls (how about that word? I learned it from MommyK). He hates his food regardless of what kind we try. He hates his litter, though we are always trying “better” brands and even bought a self-cleaning litter box. Still, he often poops on the floor (in the unfinished basement). We recently made him a cat door so that he can go in and out of the basement as he pleases.

Now that The Baby is older, I feel comfortable NOT watching him like a hawk every second. Don’t get me wrong, I am always in the room; I just no longer hover over him as he walks or crawls around. If he’s playing with his ball in the entry or dining room and I’m in the living room, that’s okay. We have our home baby proofed and we have security gates so that he only really has access to the living room and dining room. Aside from the table and chairs, which are tethered together so The Baby can’t knock them over (I’m serious), there is nothing in the dining room besides a rug. I let The Baby roam out there as it’s attached to the living room and because it’s pretty much empty.

On Sunday, he pushed a toy to the dining room and was babbling. I was reading “Baby Laughs,” and feeling all motherly and whatnot. Then it happened. I heard nothing. Really, to a mother is there anything as loud as the sound of nothing? I threw the book aside and ran to the dining room. There on the corner of the rug was a pile of cat crap. Also on the corner of the rug was my son. There was poo on his fingers and on his MOUTH. I had a wet paper towel in my hand and the poop cleaned off my son and off the floor in six and a half seconds. I grabbed The Baby and washed his hands and face at the sink for a really, really long time. I think I might have actually been going “puh, puh” every time I tried to splash water into his mouth.

I felt guilty. I should have been watching. But I never factored poop into the equation. I wanted to kill The Cat. I collected myself and assured myself that, well, shit happens. Then I brushed the cat crap out of my son’s teeth.