6:00 - Deacon awake, demanding food, now!
6:30 - Deacon put back down while I cross fingers for just a little more snoozing, pleasebabyplease.
6:31 - 6:50 - definitively not-sleeping,continuous grunting heard over the monitor. Gah. Well maybe if I just ignore it...
6:59 - all is quiet. Hurrah! Mama is sooo ready to finally get some snoozin' going on.
7:00 - Fish's alarm goes off. Double gah.
7:01 - 7:14 - I am drifting off, finally. Mmmmm...It is delightful.
7:15 - Sam is suddenly awake and over the monitor going: "Mommy? Mommy?...Mommy. Mo-o-ommy!"
7:16 - I stumble into her room. She hops out of bed, on an urgent mission. There is, after all a monkey puzzle out there that is demanding to be put together, the one we told her last night there wasn't enough time to do before bed. So hello? Morning, which means time is here! And we must do it right now, before time goes away again!
7:18 - I sneak in making a cup of coffee on my way to retrieve said puzzle from the closet.
7:19 - 7:24 - We put together the puzzle on the floor and I sip my coffee, trying to wake up, casting longing looks towards the couch. Soon, maybe I'll sit for a spell, after this is done...then, suddenly:
7:25 - From Deacon's room: Waaaaah.
Such are mornings here. But, really, as bleary-eyed as I am, I do cherish the these moments of (slight) chaos being a family of four brings!
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
I should start by declaring that we resolved the mystery of the car seat hate.
For weeks, I was known in stores as the Woman with the Crying Baby. Because I would take several trips to, say, BB&B, only to rush out 5 minutes later, head ducked down, in a blaze of decidedly non-glory, but decidely with a red-faced, hysterical infant who would. not. settle. Rinse and repeat, several times a week.
This was very distressing to me for two reasons: 1. Sam was very much a napper-on-the-go and I expected all babies to be the same (ha!) and 2. I am very-much-a-person-that-needs-to-get-out-of-the-house, all the time. When I don't, I end up doing things like changing our cable and internet carrier from Comcast to Verizon, simply because a Verizon man knocked on the door. A human being! Who is an adult who doesn't spit up! Talk to me about FiOs and your cable package deals. This, by the way, is a very true story.
So, we--or, more correctly, Fish--suggested that car seat screamfests were related to the very snuggly headrest we had. I had some doubts about the theory, because what baby would really prefer to have their head flop down forward instead of being held upright at all times, and at all costs. In spite of my doubts, I went ahead and changed out the car seat head rest back to the flimsy one we had used with Sam. Lo and behold, from there on in Deacon has cried a LOT less.
So now that I can rely on naps in the car seat, I decided that it was time to get my arse in gear and exercise. So, off to Wakefield Lake we went this fine day. I plotted out my course length against the time it would take for Deacon to fall off into dreamland, at which point I would sit in the common area right outside the church, and eat a leisurely lunch and read a bit. I packed a sandwich and drink, and my Kindle. I even remembered sunscreen. Look at me, sleep-deprived and yet highly-functioning!
All went according to plan, at first. Substantial walking achieved, and baby fell asleep just like I envisioned. Except I didn't notice that the benches abutted the church parking lot, so the car noises caused an occasional stir from Deacon. Oops, but we can work through this.
And then noon came. And that's when the noise started.
Oh my god, is that...church bells!
#$%*^% church bells!
I had sat right under the steeple. And the church bells were not just chiming noontime, it was playing God Bless America.
Baby immediately starts crying, and I hastily pack everything up and head back to the car in effort to preserve some semblence of nap and quiet time. File under: spaced-out.
For weeks, I was known in stores as the Woman with the Crying Baby. Because I would take several trips to, say, BB&B, only to rush out 5 minutes later, head ducked down, in a blaze of decidedly non-glory, but decidely with a red-faced, hysterical infant who would. not. settle. Rinse and repeat, several times a week.
This was very distressing to me for two reasons: 1. Sam was very much a napper-on-the-go and I expected all babies to be the same (ha!) and 2. I am very-much-a-person-that-needs-to-get-out-of-the-house, all the time. When I don't, I end up doing things like changing our cable and internet carrier from Comcast to Verizon, simply because a Verizon man knocked on the door. A human being! Who is an adult who doesn't spit up! Talk to me about FiOs and your cable package deals. This, by the way, is a very true story.
So, we--or, more correctly, Fish--suggested that car seat screamfests were related to the very snuggly headrest we had. I had some doubts about the theory, because what baby would really prefer to have their head flop down forward instead of being held upright at all times, and at all costs. In spite of my doubts, I went ahead and changed out the car seat head rest back to the flimsy one we had used with Sam. Lo and behold, from there on in Deacon has cried a LOT less.
So now that I can rely on naps in the car seat, I decided that it was time to get my arse in gear and exercise. So, off to Wakefield Lake we went this fine day. I plotted out my course length against the time it would take for Deacon to fall off into dreamland, at which point I would sit in the common area right outside the church, and eat a leisurely lunch and read a bit. I packed a sandwich and drink, and my Kindle. I even remembered sunscreen. Look at me, sleep-deprived and yet highly-functioning!
All went according to plan, at first. Substantial walking achieved, and baby fell asleep just like I envisioned. Except I didn't notice that the benches abutted the church parking lot, so the car noises caused an occasional stir from Deacon. Oops, but we can work through this.
And then noon came. And that's when the noise started.
Oh my god, is that...church bells!
#$%*^% church bells!
I had sat right under the steeple. And the church bells were not just chiming noontime, it was playing God Bless America.
Baby immediately starts crying, and I hastily pack everything up and head back to the car in effort to preserve some semblence of nap and quiet time. File under: spaced-out.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Starting a-new...
So, it's been awhile. Ok, really a loooong while.
This time I will make another earnest attempt to jot down my thoughts.
Why now? Three years have passed, after all. Life got etc, etc.
Then, on May 18th of this year, we welcomed my son into the world.
When Samantha came barreling into the hospital room a day later, I was overwhelmed by how older she suddenly seemed. All the talking! The logic! Where did this gigantic child come from, and where did my baby go?
I am re-living all of those firsts with her brother, and in doing so, I realize I struggle to remember the little parallel stages of his sister. What did her early cries sound like compared to Deacon? When did she get her first tooth? Her third word? It was only three years ago, and yet it feels like ages ago.
I did collect small parcels of information from emails, postings on mom boards, and a few annual photo albums for the family, but I am sad at how much feels lost in between. No more, I say! Time to document life as a family of four, with...half as much time as I did three years ago. Go, motiviation!
If I succeed in keeping up with this, no doubt Sam will eventually realize I missed a chunk of life (and which will surely become fodder for therapy), but at least the photographic proof of her infanthood is three-times what it is for her brother.
So, here goes. Blog, take 2.
This time I will make another earnest attempt to jot down my thoughts.
Why now? Three years have passed, after all. Life got etc, etc.
Then, on May 18th of this year, we welcomed my son into the world.
When Samantha came barreling into the hospital room a day later, I was overwhelmed by how older she suddenly seemed. All the talking! The logic! Where did this gigantic child come from, and where did my baby go?
I am re-living all of those firsts with her brother, and in doing so, I realize I struggle to remember the little parallel stages of his sister. What did her early cries sound like compared to Deacon? When did she get her first tooth? Her third word? It was only three years ago, and yet it feels like ages ago.
I did collect small parcels of information from emails, postings on mom boards, and a few annual photo albums for the family, but I am sad at how much feels lost in between. No more, I say! Time to document life as a family of four, with...half as much time as I did three years ago. Go, motiviation!
If I succeed in keeping up with this, no doubt Sam will eventually realize I missed a chunk of life (and which will surely become fodder for therapy), but at least the photographic proof of her infanthood is three-times what it is for her brother.
So, here goes. Blog, take 2.
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