Dear Son J,

It’s been a while since I’ve done an update with you, eh?  Normally I would say that you were oblivious, but today I found you nosing around on Flickr, looking at pictures of your brother.  How you got there, I’ll never know.  But you did note that there were lots of pictures of your brother - that’s only because he sits still, Love.  And earlier today while I was watching a *car-ay-zee* video, with your brother on my lap because he had just woken up, you looked at me and said, “Is there room, Mama?  I think there’s room!  I think I see a spot!” and promptly scootched your tookus on my free knee to enjoy some quality viewing time.  Then, at lunch you fell apart when your father needed some Throne Time and took your brother to give me some peace (Abe doesn’t get much bathroom time because bathroom doors are to be closed.  At.all.times.  Lest someone start blessing the house with his fairy toilet brush wand, or opening that one non-child-proofed drawer, which blocks the door, and then mama and baby start wailing when the cries of “Please, baby, just shut the drawer and I can get you out!” are more interpreted as Open the Drawer Wider and Wail and Scream).   I told your dad that I think you’re feeling left out.  I can’t imagine why, since I’ve only mentioned stories about Abe pretty much since I started this missive.   :S

You are a darling boy, did you know that?  You have very definite likes and dislikes, and oftentimes your likes get overlooked and your dislikes are focused on.  So for your birthday, I decided it was Do Things JJ Likes Day in which I entertained your (mostly) every whim.

So we went to Freddies.  It was as though Fate deemed it Your Day as well, because lo and behold, right next to my parking space, was this contraption:

Which I have nevereverevereverever let you ride in:  once the door has been opened (like giving the federal government power), it’s near impossible to close.  “Mama!  I ride in the bus!  Please!  It’s my birfday . . .”  How can I say no to that, or these precious drivers - look out!

Miss Michelle, cashier over self-checkout extraordinaire, usually gives you stickers.  But today, ooooh today, you got your own Freddie’s Rewards Card, which you refer to as your Fred Card.  And stickers:  can I tell you how many stickers I have littering my car floor?  They’re so worth it, though:  have you ever seen better looking cheeks?  Freddie’s should be paying you money for advertising.

Then we went to the Dollar Tree because you wanted, you needed, your little heart’s cry was for one thing:  a balloon.  And so, you got one.

Then off to Chapters for milk with sf vanilla syrup and a green gummi worm.  But first, randomness in the ‘berg.  You know how you see weird things and think, “Gosh, I wish I had my camera sitting on my lap?”  Presto.

Again with the spoiling:  your classmate’s mom who works at Chapters lets you pick the color of gummi worm.  And points out where the Star Wars books are:  what more does a boy need?

Oh, that’s right:  friends!  To drink milk with!  And read Star Wars with!  And make guns out of the totally-not-gun-making-material building toys.  Sigh.

Where else does Judah like to go?  The toy store.  Yes, we have one in town.  Yes, we’ve been there on a regular basis.  And yes, we’ll be going back.

But the fun doesn’t stop there!  Off to the pet store!  To play with turtles and find Nemo and not look at the puppies that desperately wanted to be taken home (oh, it hurt me inside.  But I managed to stay strong:  my arms were too busy taking pictures and pushing around strollers and making sure people avoided stepping in turtle poop to reach my wallet).

It’s good to have a tribe to hang out with.

During lunch you got to take pictures.  Again with the doing things that you like that you don’t often get to do without hearing “Ack!  Put it down!  Slowly!  Gently!  No, it doesn’t bounce!”

Naptime:  not your favorite.  So you just bounced around playing with balloons and watching “Wachael Way!”

Until Dad came home and then, special treat, off to Wendy’s for Dinner with Dad!  Oh, the love of Wendy’s runs deep with this one (as with ones before him).

Special treat:  one of the specialist treats of all - SURPISE VISIT FROM UNCA MATT!  Almost every day JJ asks if he can see Unca Matt, and almost every day it’s, “No.”  I know I should try to phrase it in a more positive light (melancholy’s need all the postivitity they can get), but seriously, how many ways can you say, “Nuh uh.  Not today.  Maybe later.  He’s at work.  He’s at home.  He doesn’t live here.  He has to be a functioning adult and can’t spend all day running into walls and falling over with you, as much as he would love to.”  Only so many.

Unca Matt fed into the all-consuming frenzy that is Star Wars, introducing our very first Action Figures.  And JJ can already provide the music for them to “lightsaver” to (ah, the Death March.  It may be the death of me).

He also hooked up JJ with some more love - the love of Mario, the love of Wii, the love of baseball, and the love of gaming.

Quite an epic battle took place, one that details the outcome quite obviously (and typically, at least when it comes to physical games - coordination is not our strong suit).

When I asked you what you wanted for your birthday, you responded, “Um . . . a cake!  With candles.  And fire.  And balloons.”  “What type of cake?”  “Uh, purple?”  So I complied.

And it was enjoyed.

Darling boy, I can’t believe you’ve travelled around the sun four whole times!  Some days seem to go sooooo sloooooowly.  But then there’s those times that I blink, and all of a sudden you can read words like “apple” and “computer” (a coincidence?).  This past Sunday at church someone was talking about your child being “a blank slate, or rather a book for you to study”.  I realized that I’m an observer, and I love pouring over the lines of your life:  watching you run amuck with your tribe, seeing you squeal as you hit a Wii home run, catching you showing Abe what hand on Obi Wan best holds the “lightsaver”.  I don’t feel that I get to do it all that often, though, because while I’m an observer, you’re an interactor.  And right now one of your favorite people to interact with is me.  Sometimes I see that as an annoyance:  how can I observe when you’re talking to me and already asking if Dad’s coming home for lunch and it’s only 10:15?  Then there are those times that you won’t let me just observe, but you force me to interact in this life, to be present and active and doing.  You aren’t content just knowing about things;  you must be doing them, and you want to bring all your people along with you to do them as well.  I don’t always interact well, son, and for that I apologize.  Thank you for being persistent with me, for drawing me in (sometimes kicking and screaming) so I can live in the lines of your book.  You are my sunshine boy.

Love, Ma

JJ Jawings, Mama Musings | 3 Comments »

If it’s possible to catch him at all . . . .

Summer is coming to an end, and this week begins our Reality That is the Preschool Year and All That Comes with It (if this week is any indications, a lot of Kashi bars and string cheese and blue corn chips).  Last spring we received a notice that JJ’s current school would be taking a sabbatical; thus began the great scramble to find some sort of organized education for our little extrovert.  Phone call after phone call of “We’d love to have JJ!  His birthday is what?  Past the cutoff?  Well, we have a junior class.  He’s been spelling for how long?  Oh, well, you have fun finding a place for him!”  It seemed so early to already be miffed at the system that is American education.

Enter Beloved Teacher L who has been teaching for many, many years and has a classroom on her property in the country where the children can have lessons in the orchard and is very classical in her teaching style and has a two . . . or three . . . year waiting list.  Gimme gimme please.  “Oh, but I’m all full:  I only take 12 students.”  Sadness.  “But . . . I’ve been thinking about taking one more . . . .”  Pleaseohplease.  And hurrah!  Her husband, who I used to work with, will be helping her out, and JJ was in!

We’ve been talking up school for quite some time, that it was on the 9th (”in nine months!” somehow was his interpretation), that many of his friends from last year (about 2/3’s of the class) would be there but not all (which is fairly confusing:  “where is JonahBraden?” - inseparable boys in many ways), that it will be three days a week instead of two (”no fanks!” was his polite response), and that we would be shifting from morning to afternoon class (shaking both of our worlds).

Yesterday JJ decided to practice getting dressed for school during his Quiet Time.  First, last year’s soccer shirt is sure to make an impression.  It shows his fun and sporty side:

Oh, but that’s not enough.  For those times when he needs to look a little dressier, a little more suave, his new shirt from Aunt Karla that he got for his upcoming birthday:

Go BSU!  But wait:  what happens if he needs to get his sport back on?  That is his more dominant side.  Oh yes, another soccer shirt:

When asked why one would put on three shirts during Bang Things Alone in Your Room Time, JJ responded, “Because I can, and because it’s coo, and because I wike (like)’em.”  ‘Nuff said.

In the end we (I) decided that we (he) would be too restricted by the multiple layers of fabric, so it was decided to don another outfit.  Here his is lounging with his Memory Book from last year’s preschool, a good little Irishman honoring the old before moving into the new.

Backpack still works:

And still in swinging condition:

While it might take a while to get the new routine down, JJ’s up for the challenge.

So is Abe, although what will he do with all that free time?

Somehow I think he’ll manage.

We managed to arrive ten minutes before the fifteen minutes of arrival time before school starts.  And we were dressed!  And fed!  And hydrated!  But oh, that’s right:  school supplies - even though I stocked up and even bought doubles of most supplies, I left them all nicely packaged in our hall closet.  And so Dren starts off the year with a big black mark on her report card.

Things aren’t so dire, however.  I brought the school supplies when I picked up him, and when I pulled up, he was playing a game running around holding his friend J’s hand - tender!  JJ got a good report when I asked (and in fact she says she doesn’t “tattle” to the parents unless the kids do something *REALLY* naughty.  Hurrah:  I may leave preschool this year holding my head high rather than slinking away in shame for report after report of time out, cause man, my neck was getting achy from drooping so low), and JJ enjoyed “coloring and playing with A and J and D and O and J and D and K and doing red light with the bee!” (Red Light/Green Light with a puppet).   Both JJ and Abe are contained in their approrpriate Quiet Time Places, and I will be restocking the snack bags, water bottles, and getting the Kashi bar out of my hair (man, they’re sticky).

So we end sending well wishes to our beloved friend Ryan who cracked his head open today (who is in Beloved Teacher L’s morning class) which happens to be his birthday:  boo.  My brother did the same thing when he turned two (cracked head on his b-day, not going to school for the first time), and he turned out okay, don’t you think?

Daily Drivel, JJ Jawings | 4 Comments »

So my sweet friend, probably the only person who checks here minus grandparents who are contractually obligated, mentioned that she missed reading my blog.  What?  Someone misses new posts on this site?!!  Say no more!  Like a puppy who hears the words “go byebye”, that’s all I need to get me writing again.

Though I know a ton of witty stories have happened in the past few days . . . weeks . . months (quickly wiping the dust off with my shirt sleeve, hoping no one noticed), I can’t really think of any right now.  Because my bebe is sick.  JJ has been out with the stomach flu since Monday.   Today is Thursday.  That’s a looong time to be sipping water, and hurling, and licking a popsicle, and hurling, and biting a banana, and hurling.  So long that I didn’t even realize it was Thursday and that he’s been sick almost all week:  the gloriousness of the days just run together.

Hubby asked if I was going to call the doctor this morning, and mentally I thought, “Why?  So I can haul him down to a doctor’s office for all of us to get infected and have them tell me there’s nothing they can do, and by the by, the new germies we picked up in the waiting room are free”, but I said, “Uh, no, I don’t know what they could do.”  But then when the offer to have a popsicle for breakfast was refused, I picked up the cell right then and there.

“May I speak to a nurse?”

“Is this in regards to you?”

“Nope:  my son’s been throwing up since Monday.”

“Monday?!!”

“Well, Monday night.”

“We’d better get you an appointment!”

“Uh, I’d rather just talk to a nurse if that’s okay.”

“Oh . . . well, I guess I can send a note back.”

“It’s just that I’m not sure if I should bring him in or not and figured a nurse could tell me.”

“Yeah . . . ”

Just then and there, I was bequeathed the “La Crappola Madre of the Year” award.  No, I haven’t posted it up in my house yet:  I’m just revelling in its beauty.

Right now JJ’s hanging out in bed.  Awake.  My son.  Awake.  Lying there.  Not tied down.  Not threatened that if his toes so much as touch the ground that he will never get to play LegoTableStarWarsGames again.  My son has *never* done that willingly.  Yep, things are not looking so great.  The nurse, who talked to the not-Beloved-Dr.-Tami-doctor, who almost delivered JJ, since our Beloved Dr. Tami takes Thursdays off to polish her Rockin’ Mama of the Year award, said that I’m supposed to give him Pedialyte (which he won’t drink because he doesn’t like juice.  That’s my low-carb kid!) and then go on the B.R.A.T. diet (tasty) and then slowly reintroduce dairy.  So much for his request for “yogret” this morning (thank you Springfield Dairy which sponsors Sesame Street).

I just want my baby to keep some liquids down.  It’s a simple request, one that I often take for granted.  That, and to magically uninherit my & my father’s hurling genes - we’re olympic-worthy hurlers.  It’s just horrible seeing veins pop out of your baby’s neck as he grips on the toilet so his feet don’t come off the floor, cause I know what he’s feeling (and so does Granddaddy - ugh - the bulging eyeballs).

So, Michelle, that’s probably not what you wanted to read during your lunch hour.  But at least you’re getting a lunch hour!  And hopefully we’ll have some non-fluid-oriented stories to share soon.  Won’t that be lovely.

Daily Drivel, JJ Jawings | 4 Comments »

The holiday season brings all sorts of joy and cheer.  The loveliness of watching folks who rarely shop attempt to navigate the store.  And better yet, the foolish mortals who think they can work the self checkout without regular usage.  The happiness of school programs where parents stuff kids into uncomfortable clothes and then expect them to perform like the carrier monkeys that they are, except all they do is stand front and center with their hands firmly placed in their pockets and their lips locked shut.  Why this position cannot be assumed while working the aforementioned self checkout in a curious question of nature.  The pleasantness of tykes being hyped up on a constant stream of available crack sugar and then acting out when their schedules are completely turned topsy turvy, they’re given tons of attention, and then they keep hearing “stand straight!  stop moving!  be quiet!  but say thank you!”

And then there are the photos.  Oh, the photos.  The pictures in front of the Christmas tree.  The pictures before the opening of presents.  The pictures during programs and Santa visits and tree cuttings and Christmas parties.

We happened to catch one set of pictures with the boys that are actually pretty cute.  They’re from Little A’s dedication (one blissfully lovely holiday day).

Little A:  You really want me to sit?  Sit up? Sit up with JJ?  Alone?  In a chair?

Both:  Are we cute?  Are we done?  Is that all?

JJ:  I wonder how far I can push Little A over before he rats me out.

Little A:  Why are you kissing me?

JJ:  Cause they told me to.

Little A:  Seriously?  Since when did you start listening to them?

JJ:  Listen:  it’ll make them stop taking pictures faster.

Little A:  I dunno:  Ma’s got a twitchy photo finger.

Brudders.

JJ Jawings, Little A Adventures, Mama Musings | 2 Comments »

After getting up with the preschooler twice and the mad roll-overer three times in the beginning, middle, and end of the night, it can be easy to be a bit . . . how shall we say . . . cranky?  But my friend Meredith posted a wonderful practice of listing her favorite things.  And so I shall list my favorites as well as the favorites of the wee folk in the house in an attempt to realize they do enjoy things and are not just out to get me.

Starting from the smallest in body size:

Orley

• Sleeping under the Big People’s bed
• Sleeping on the Big People’s bed
• Waiting underneath the Big People’s Bed to stalk the Female Big Person until she slips into bed and then leaping out, jumping on the bed, and walking all the way up her side to sleep on her shoulder which I know she loves because she sighs (contentedly, I’m sure) every time I do it and mutters something about “never getting space” and “having to be mastered by all the males in the house.”  I know she loves it

Little A

• Attention
• Having control over my pacifier, taking it in and out of my mouth, thereby controlling my verbosity (i.e. not allowing the Big People to control my verbosity):  I control the horizontal, I control the vertical.
• My brother and the natural whirlwind he creates wherever he goes:  I may grow up to be a tornado chaser - it’ll be just like being at home.
• Rattles.  I actually play with rattles!  As opposed to my brother, who played with humans, bending them to his will.  I don’t have to do that:  if I can bend my brother to my will, then I’m golden.
• Rolling over.  I’m a rolling fool!
• Oatmeal and applesauce.  Fed to me by the Female Big Person.  She should be in charge of feeding *always*.  Because she makes lovely faces when I request for her to be my server, and she makes funny muttering noises.  Funny lady.
• My lion on my carseat.  Bangy bangy bangy.
• Moonlight rendevous with the Big People, particularly the Female Big Person (see aforementioned lovely faces and funny noises).
• Attention

Jacks

• Attention
• Food
• Attention
• My blue plastic bone that I work at picking off the teeny tiny pokey bits that are meant for oral stimulation but I can’t handle that much stimulation because I’m all twitchy like.  Hence, the constant picking.
• Attention
• When the Female Big Person flops over onto her stomach in bed and lets her arm (I’m sure on purpose) hang over the edge to I can walk underneath it and help her pet me.  If she groans, then I lick her on the nose to let her know she *wants* to pet me.  I’m sure she does . . . .
• Attention

JJ

• Singing songs, even though I make up most of the words “E-E-N-G-O spells his name-O” and “oh my DAHlin lemontine”.
• Telling the Big People what they need to do:  “mama, come on”  “mama, look at my face”  “Little A:  quiet!  You understand?” “mama, you say ‘yes, sir, JJ!  yes, sir!’” (and boy howdy, does his mama love it as well)
• Playing with dinosaurs - with Big People.
• Playing with cars - with Big People.
• Playing with beans - with Big People.
• Telling Mama about how I take toys out of people’s hands and go to time out at school.
• Reading stories, especially unwrapping a Christmas book every night until Christmas time.
• Bath time.  With Mama.   And then spelling words.  With Mama.
• Elmojoestevebluecwiffordboblarrycookweemonster.  All.  At.  Once.
• Stickers from the store.
• Praying at night when I pray for family members and friends and school and the store and the library and friends and ABCs and 123s and friends and the store.
• Helping my brother understand that he will be much happier with a pacifier in his mouth being quiet in the arms of the Big Person I don’t want to play with so that I can play with the Big Person I *do* want to play with.
• Turning on the Christmas lights in the morning.
• I can’t remember:  did I mention playing with Big People?

Dren

• No attention
• The lock on my bathroom door (although it’s often used by JJ to lock out everyone else except him and Mama).
• My ipod  (listening to Satellite Sisters over the yowlers is quite enjoyable)
• Hearing “Mama bake cookies with JJ?” every night
• Seeing Little A smile with delight at folks captured by his charm
• Women’s Bible Fellowship:  and childcare!  Women who *want* to play with my kids!  And tell me:  this, too, shall pass.  Ah, Great GranMaribeth - my patron saint.
• A hubby who says, “Bad night?  You know what, I’m going to come home after lunch and stay at home.”  Of course, I tell him to stay at work, but still:  aw.
• My hubby.  And his dimples: they’re just so cute (and so are all my boys’ dimples).
• A Gran and Granddaddy who come down to visit, take us out to lunch, bring gifts of food and clothes and ornaments and homemade breast pads and say nothing but affirming words to everyone in the house.
• A decaf sugar-free something-or-other Americano from Chapters:  mmmm.
• My friends who can still laugh with me even though we recognize we’re all a little on the looney side.
• Singing “Feliz Navidad” with my brother:  chh chh chh chh.
• Driving around the week before Christmas looking at Christmas lights.
• Peace on earth, good will towards men - or a solid night’s sleep.

JJ Jawings, Little A Adventures, Mama Musings, Random Remarks | 1 Comment »

Allo, y’all. I didn’t think anyone read this here ol’ blog anymore until I stopped posting: questions starting popping up like, “WHERE ARE YOU?” and “HAVE YOU RETURNED TO THE LAND OF THE DIGESTING?” and “DO YOU KNOW THE WAY TO SAN JOSE? (LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LAAAA)”

Thank you for the questions and comments. I have returned to the ‘dee having spent ten days at Chez Grand’rents in the valley. Events that took place:

• My intestinal tract relearned its proper function in my body.
• A certain Littlest Man decided he would not poop, not like solid foods, not sleep (well, less than usual, which isn’t much to begin with), and not like many people except for Mama - joy. So we learned to do the “please poop” dance, the art of quickly oh so quickly jabbing a spoon in the mouth, loving the crazies that come with sleep deprivation, and the “go to sleep” dance mastered by one Granddaddy.
• Yummy yummy food.
• An attempt at organized game play: oh, the travesty.

• Blissful viewings of the Next Iron Chef including his first battle, Paula Deen’s All Fried Thanksgiving, and Iron Chef: Holiday Battle Dessert in which the secret ingredient was sugar and Paula Deen - Lord Have Mercy.
• Hands to hold my babies, do my laundry, feed my belly, make coffee, and make sure I was supplied with caffeine free diet soda at all times, and talk to me with words other than “make me lunch right now!” and “i not like that” and “ENNNNHHHHHH” - aka heaven.

Unfortunately, heaven had to get back to the real world, so we shuttled back down home to life as normal. Which has consisted of a toddler who is “‘wake! not sleep! no sleep!” and an infant who has relearned to poop and also has an unhealthy attachment (aka any attachment - his older brother never cared - kinda freeing) to Mama. But the dog is happy to be home and resuming his cat stalking duties, and Orley was so excited to have me to sleep on that he couldn’t wait for me to get to bed last night following me into the bathroom while getting ready for bed, trying to climb on my lap while I was peeing. “Seriously, woman: ClimbIntoBed.”

Even though JJ will have missed two weeks of school by the time he returns, his learning hasn’t stopped. Oh no: we are an experiential learning kind of family. As shown by the following three scenes:

SCENE 1: Kitchen

Helping Mama make cookies.

Mama: JJ, open up the cupboard and hand me some chocolate chips.

JJ: [Pointing to salt which is a generic brand] - Mama, FredMeyerStore!

Mama: Very good, JJ.

JJ: [Pointing to chocolate chip bag]: FredMeyerStore!

Mama: Yes, JJ.

JJ: [Pointing to corn syrup, vegetable oil, plain shortening, butter-flavored shortening, etc.]: FredMeyerStore! FredMeyerStore! FredMeyerStore! FredMeyerStore! FredMeyerStore!

Mama: Yes, thank you, I am a cheap shopper. Rub it in some more.

Scene 2: Downstairs at Hubby’s computer

Mama: JJ, please back away: I’m trying to email.

JJ: [Handing me a receipt laying on Hubby's desk] Mama, paper!

Mama: Yes, thank you.

JJ: Home Depot! Dad went to Home Depot! I wanna go to Home Depot. [Insert boy making noises of drills and saws and other things I can't describe].

Mama: Ah, your dad’s family would be so proud. Now if only you can make noises of chemicals mixing together and exploding, then all the males on both sides would be tickled pink.

Scene 3: In the kitchen

JJ: [Laying on the counter, grabbing a cook book] Mama, what’s that say?

Mama: [Too lazy to look] What do you think it says?

JJ: Food. Network.

Mama: [Taking a look] Nice work! . . . . I think . . .

Daily Drivel, JJ Jawings | 3 Comments »

So you know how you watch movies and think, “My life is so not like that”?

Well, not that I run a bookstore — but I did work in a library. . . .

And not that I met a blind date online that developed into more of a relationship — but Hubby and I did connect initially a great deal through the world wide web. . . .

But when your son wanders around saying, “F-O-X spells ‘fox‘” but doesn’t do that for any other words, and you never taught him how to spell ‘fox’, you have to wonder . . .

[And I don't even own the movie!  Now that's some powerful osmosis that takes place in utero].

Daily Drivel, JJ Jawings | No Comments »

When I was in high school I decided that I was never going to have children:  I would be a horrible parent, and why contribute to the overpopulation of the earth?  But to continue on the family line, my *brother* should have kids.  And they would be adorable, and his firstborn would be a boy named “Aidan” because I loved that name and it would be “Aidan and Auntie Dren,” and we would be bestest of buddies, because everyone knows it’s much more fun to be the aunt that the primary caregiver.

Well, he didn’t have kids (yet).  But I did.  And so did his friends.  One of which named his firstborn “Aidan,” who now goes to school with my firstborn.

If you’re my brother, that collision of worlds along with the oddness of the reality of adulthood will just blow.your.mind.  If you’re not my brother, you can just look at the oh-so-cute boys carrying their pumpkins around in grocery sacks, just like every other good American preschooler.

Daily Drivel, JJ Jawings | No Comments »

The older brother must play . . . or something like that (do you see the joy in someone’s eyes, and the panic in the other’s?).

Note:  I was upstairs minding my own business slaving over a hot stove to make a meal for my family (or probably reheating a meal from my meal swap group and strategizing my next Scrabulous move).

I heard noises about “stinky poo” and then the clunk of the closet doors where we keep things like the washer/dryer, the mop, and the diaper changing gear. . .

My multitasking mind finally realized, “Hmm.  What could he be doing?  JJ’s downstairs.  Little A’s downstairs.  ‘Stinky poo.’  Wait, did he say, ‘Stinky poo’?  Oh, Lord.”

Downstairs I found one de-diapered Little A laying on the changing pad with big brother JJ muttering about putting on the Rear Schmear.

Needless to say, Little A was a mite concerned about that.

If JJ could get the diaper on with the frontside front and stop getting distracted by “BUSTERS!” on tv, that might’ve helped.  That, and actually wiping Little A’s tookus before attempting to schmear and diaper could be helpful as well (don’t worry:  this Reality TV photographer didn’t have a contract stipulating non-interference).

JJ’s also wanted to be a helper in other areas, like giving Little A toys, giving him a bath, and feeding him:  some of those helps have been more effective than others. 

Daily Drivel, JJ Jawings, Little A Adventures | No Comments »

So I haven’t been writing a lot since Little A was born. Actually, I haven’t been writing a lot since Little A became more than a sparkle in his mother’s eye. For some reason, I’ve been . . . wordless. But not really, because a lot of posts compose themselves in my head, but then a) I forget the witty words, 2) I don’t have time to write anything worthwhile due to picking up the house over and over and over again.

But more often than not it’s 3) I don’t think my kids would appreciate what I have to write. When JJ was little, he was the sole topic of my blog, and usually it was a forum for a gripe fest: “I’ve only slept this much last night”, “I’ve listening to this amount of screaming today”, “He yarfed in my wireless router and now I can’t connect online, i.e. adults, i.e. my life is oooovvvvveeeeeerrrrrrrr.” I’ve heard not-so-fun stories about me as a babe (and yes, mama, I know it’s not my fault; I know you loved me; but I also know that shipping me in a box to Abu Dhabi probably sounded pretty good . . . more than once), and I don’t know how I’d feel if they were available for all to hear.

Being a melancholy, I tend to look at life as a glass half-empty (or my favorite mug with a giant crack in it leaking sticky, staining liquid onto carpet that I’m never going to be able to get up . . . or something like that), and so many of my posts are not of the Pollyanna nature; therefore, I’m keeping them to myself (although some are pretty darn funny in a doom-and-gloom kind of way). But after last night, I just feel the need to purge. And if it damages my kids, oh well: there’s another necessary Journey to add to the list.

Little A has not been sleeping. Correction: Little A *used* to sleep. And Little A has not been eating. Correction: Little A *used* to eat. Then I had my wisdom teeth taken out. Which apparently removed his ability to slumber as well as for me to produce the edible spread he’s particular to. These side effects were NOT listed on the post-op care sheet.

See, if Little A had been a lousy sleeper and eater from the beginning, it’d be a little easier for me: I would have known no difference. But he’s gone from eating contentedly on one side to fighting me while eating on both sides and the howling bloody murder because heaven forbid he might actually have to work a little bit for his food. And he’s gone from waking once a night (and even a couple nights - not.at.all) to asserting his college night-owl self about two decades too early.

Last night was an especially crappy night (don’t tell JJ I said ‘crappy’: he likes to repeat that: not so good: at least it’s not like when I ran into Mom asking her why Dad said “Damn, damn, damn” :D). Little A woke up at 1:15, which wouldn’t be all that big of a deal if he would’ve gone back to sleep well. But he didn’t. I had to work with him to stop moving his arms and throwing his head from side-to-side for quite some time. Then he woke up at 2:45. Hello: middle of my sleep cycle - so painful. Hubby actually took him, and then things happened (I think he had to be re-swaddled? . . . I was in delirium from FOUR MONTHS OF THIS): there was howling: I ran into the room, ran downstairs to warm up a pumped bottle EVEN THOUGH I FED HIM 1.5 HOURS AGO. He ate it. It wasn’t enough. I had to warm up another bottle. He ate it. JJ woke up. Came into our bedroom. Went into our bathroom. Lifted the toilet seat. Silence. A cry. I got up again: to a wet floor. Joy. Wiped down the floor. Changed his pants (cause he peed *on* them). Got him into bed. Hubby went to do battle with Little A: Hubby lost. I tagged him out and rocked Little A for 45 minutes. Went downstairs to pump because it was 4:30 when he normally eats. In the middle of pumping, Little A woke up. Hubby did not. Had to stop pumping, get Little A back down, finish pumping, and go back to sleep. For 45 minutes until Little A woke up again, and I hauled him into bed with me. And then he woke 45 minutes after that, I nursed him, and hopped in the shower. Hubby got him back to sleep, and he’s been sleeping for the last hour and a half.

Do you see how I could have a hard time trying to find positive things to write? Or even things in general? It’s amazing I can communicate, much less type coherent words: God bless spell check.

During one of the bottle feedings, Hubby tried to warm the bottle up on his own with Little A in tow. But in the midst of getting the lid on, he spilled some of the Liquid Gold. I heard him yell, sprinted downstairs to make sure no one was experiencing bodily harm, and realized I could have two reactions: I could cry or be mad, cause Lord knows how much I *LOVE* pumping (can I get a moooooo?), or I could recognize that it’s just spilled milk. That I have formula if I need as back up. That’s it’s just one night, and that it will pass.

And that I get to spend the weekend with my folks who will help us get some sleep, cause they have the magic Grandparent touch.

I know: they’re innocent darlings, aren’t they? So are harpies: pretty song to lure you to *death* - or at least sleep deprivation.

Daily Drivel, JJ Jawings, Little A Adventures, Mama Musings | 5 Comments »