Clean Slate

My sister-in-law gave me an address book for my birthday. It is a beautiful, leather-bound one that I desired and cherish. I am putting all my addresses in it this afternoon.

Despite the beauty of the book, there is a bittersweet feeling that comes with paging through your old directory of life. You think back on when people lived at all the crossed-out places. You remember friends who now have new last names. You wonder who you should just eliminate---after all, life changes.

But what if, after you eliminate she and he from the directory, you remember something important you wanted to say and you've no direction as to how to reach them?

Sigh. I'm closing one book, and opening another.

Little Sick, Tired Birthday Girl

The end of my last week as a 23 year old and the commencement of my first week as a 24 year old have been rough so far. I will list the challenges and the triumphs:

• Baby saw doctor for 4 month check-up.
• Doctor's intern told me no, babies don't get teeth this early. Take a look in HERE, little intern, and see exhibits A and B. My advanced babe.
• Babe acquired strange rash-inducing virus called roseola in combination with reaction to immunization shots AND thrush. Mom and Dad injected syringes of Tylenol and thrush meds into baby, who promptly screamed and refused to sleep 3.5 nights in a row.
• Mom turned 24 on no sleep, and sweet Daddy made delicious pizza reminiscent of one of our first dates. Dad brought home vino, and (accidentally!) a video bordering on porn. Suffice to say, we chose sleep.
• Mom acquired illness affecting muscles (ache!), throat (ouch!), and temperature. Illness still persists.
• Baby ate solid food (ok, semi-solid rice cereal) for 1st time...Doctor prompted this...full bellies equal full night's sleep. WE HOPE SO.

I hate to whine, but it's been rough, kids. Cherish your youth, because at 23.99, you just might have to grow up.

Hysterical III

If you have noticed a pattern to these entries, you're very perceptive. Tommy has so far fallen asleep several times alone in his crib, but at the moment he is again hysterical. Have I mentioned how painful this is? And how my neighbors are definitely calling child protective services by now?

Um, Officer...my son is in nap boot camp right now....he needs his sleep...

I wonder how long this is going to take.

Last night, John was not particularly supportive of the cry-til-he-sleeps plan. It IS really hard. And we do have neighbors in the apartment building. For a while, we just waited it out in the living room on the couch. Everyone feels so vulnerable...Tommy, because he's tired and thinks we've left him, and us, because when your baby cries you have only the desire to comfort. Can anything else really be a good idea?

Still Hysterical

Ok, Tommy is crying again. Being a parent is hard work. All I want to do is teach him how to fall asleep by himself. If only he'd believe me...Sleep is wonderful! Sleep is joyous!

Silence is joyous, too, by the way.

It is so hard not to go in there and just let him stay asleep in my arms. That's what he wants, I know. If I do that every time, though, then he'll never learn. Sigh.

I'm afraid the neighbors are going to call protective services pretty soon.

Hysterical

Tommy is crying in the bedroom. Sobbing. Heart-wrenching. Hyperventilating, even.

I was a little concerned that he hadn't been taking naps of the standard variety. I guess I wanted to believe he preferred short cat naps...twenty minutes here or there.

I just read this book on healthy sleep patterns, though, and it turns out these cat naps are NO GOOD. Kids need consecutive hours of sleep (2-3) in order to really get the good rest they need.

So, I am teaching my son the pattern of healthy sleep by letting him scream until he falls asleep.

It's very painful for all involved.

Throaty Concern

Banana bread scares me because it is so thick that it gets stuck in my throat and I think I will choke and die. The last time I made banana bread, I was pregnant and I swore I would not forget to drink a liquid (preferably milk) anytime I ate it.

I forgot today.

In other news, I was supposed to have a lunch date with a gal pal from the past this afternoon, but she never called. I suppose I could have called her, too...although I did leave the confirmation message yesterday and thought it was her due turn. This brings me to several points:

1.) Caller ID is the devil. Have you noticed how you (and anyone else) are rarely in the mood to answer a call at the given moment someone chooses to call you? You avoid the call, thinking you'll call them when you're more in the mood...and then you do return the call, only to get voicemail and realize s/he is now not in the mood for you. Does this seem healthy?

and

2.) I'd just rather not get into that right now.

Changed the Sheets Twice

So, I was feeling pretty proud of myself this morning. I positioned my unsuspecting infant atop a new blue sheet for a photo shoot, thinking the color would match his eyes nicely. Tommy doesn't smile when I take out the camera; he simply stares at me in wonderment or defiance, thinking Mom, what is that contraption and do you actually think you're the boss of me?

After a few minutes, I hear that familiar burbling sound which indicates Tommy is going to the bathroom. Great, I think. Pooping always puts my son in a good mood. Maybe he'll smile.

No such luck.

My son stares at me as usual, this time surely knowing what I don't: his diaper is unable to handle the massive diaherrea leaking onto my nice, blue sheet...Through to my nice, white sheet...Through the mattress.

Blue Cheese Pasta Salad

Just for kicks, and some great grub, combine:

1 box of rigatoni pasta, cooked
1/4 or 1/3 C mayo, to desired salad thickness
1.5 T sugar

Mix these first 3 ingredients, and then add:

1 container blue cheese (maybe 6 oz)
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cubed
1/2 C chopped walnuts*
1 bag Craisins


*If you're feeling particularly patient, you can carmelize the walnuts (before chopping them) for extra pizzazz.

Who are we?

Being a parent changes you, and it changes your spouse. Mostly, being a parent changes everything...and it CERTAINLY changes your relationship.

When I take a look back at the last three months, I can count on maybe four fingers the instances of couple time John and I have shared. Sigh. Sadly, we have wasted a few of those recent moments bickering about nothing as we were just exhaustipated from being parents.

I'll allow myself to indulge in nostalgia for a moment and tell you that prior to parenthood, we were that sappy couple you see experiencing romance at any given moment. Dancing together in the grocery store (freak dancing, not slow dancing, people), holding hands during car rides, and making googly eyes at Davanni's were not below us. We still do these things, of course, but we dance around the grocery store with Tommy (trying to prevent him from busting out with a siren cry from hunger), we grip each other's hands for support in the car (as Tommy's siren cry explodes through Vinny the Volvo---constantly), and we make googly eyes at Davanni's...at Tommy, because despite the siren cry, he is the most beautiful boy we have ever known.

I'm not entirely sure I can answer the query I've posed, but we are certainly different, John and I. Perhaps this weekend, with a Saturday night date and thanks to a free grandparent babysitting gig, we can rediscover our couplehood of past to keep our sanity in the present.