Merry Christmas

We're off to Osakis today for Christmas with my Mom's side of the family.  The Boys and I are heading up soon and Dave will come up after work (poor Daddy has to work a full day today - he didn't realize he still had PTO otherwise we'd be together on this fine morning).  I'm packing up for Johnny all by myself.  I know this sounds as though I'm helpless, but please remember that the two adults living in this house need to make a list if they go to the store in search of more than 2 items.  It's been a few years since I've packed up a baby and, considering they are so small, require a ton of shit!  I hope there is enough room in the Jetta for all of it.  Geesh!

Henry had a VERY good Christmas.  Santa brought him the Zero Gravity Wall Racer he asked for.  In blue, no less - Santa knew his favorite color!  He also brought him a new Curious George, knowing that his previous George got puked on and the smell just never came out after several washings.  Dave is pretty happy with his hockey gloves The Boys gave him, practicing throwing them down for a fight in the hallway.  I got a sweet Billy Bragg shirt and a Mighty Muggs Han Solo in Hoth Battle Gear.  Sweet!

NORAD Santa Tracker

I am cursing Dave for bringing up the NORAD Santa Tracker tonight after we read The Night Before Christmas.  Henry is taking things VERY seriously this year and keeps asking for location updates.  He's not asking in an attempt to catch the big guy in red.  He's far more concerned about the fact that Dave and I are not in bed yet and he's starting to get nervous.

I'm nervous that he might come out to lecture me and find green sugar sprinkles on my shirt from one of the cookies left out for Santa.  There were only two Christmas cookies left in the house so there'd be no talking my way out of it.  

Week #4, Day 2

Three weeks postpartum and I catch a cold.  Nine months and not a single bug or asthma attack and now I get sick.  I suppose it was only fair since I was sick as hell with pregnancy related issues - a virus on top of that would have been the straw that broke the camel's back.  I took some Tylenol last night to fight off the sore throat and Googled "maternal illness and newborns".  I'm not supposed to touch John's hands or kiss him.  Yeah, right.  At least I breastfeed, so he's still getting all those good antibodies and, fingers crossed, he won't get much more than the snotty nose he's already appeared to develop.  He's very co-operative with letting me shoot saline up his nose and then come at him with the nasal aspirator.  I keep telling him Mommy knows best and he seems to be buying it.  Now if he'd just listen to me when I tell him that burping would help his tummy, we'd be all set.

He officially got kicked out of our room on Saturday night.  Of course, this was the day after the leg extensions for the co-sleeper arrived (to the tune of $9 shipping).  He lasted about as long as Henry did.  Dave and I couldn't deal with the grunting and groaning or the middle of the night or the over-tired snapping at each other any longer.  He'd nurse, we'd swaddle him up, put him down and then listen to him make noise for a hour before he'd fall into a quite sleep.  I can't sleep if my boys make any noises.  Thunder storms, yes, but I wake up at the slightest cough from Henry behind two oak bedroom doors.  I guess it's one of those mother things.  We're all much happier this way.  Mom and Dad are sleeping longer and Johnny the Noisy Sleeper isn't getting poked with a Nuk or picked up in an effort to quiet him down.  We can hear him if he cries but not when he grunts.  Again - sleep like a baby?  Really?  Puh-leeze!

After complaining about why schools squelch diversity rather than celebrate it, we find out just yesterday that Henry has a sort of holiday program at school today.  Technically, it's an "all-school sing-a-long" and parents are invited.  Dave is on his way home so we can all go.  During the month of December, we saw via the weekly kindergarten schedule that he has been learning about winter holidays.  Henry points out candles in windows and announces that they must be celebrating Kwanzaa.  We also learned that Baby Cheese-us was born in a stable.  Of course, the heathens that Dave and I are, we are now referring to Cheddar Cheese-us, Swiss Cheese-us and Monetary Jack Cheese-us.

I'm having mixed emotions about where Facebook has taken me.  I've found a few old friends from high school but I've also found myself hooked up with the folks that are organizing the 20 year reunion.  I bitched about not being invited to the 10 year reunion even though there was no way in hell I would have gone.  I wasn't married yet, lived in the same metro area many of us wound up in and my parents lived in the same house they did when I graduated.  To be honest, I figured the cliques had kept the party to themselves - that's just the way my high school was.  Now I'm on the radar and I'm not sure what to think of it.  I might consider it now if only because I'm more of what would be considered successful.  Happily married with children and a job that would make many of them do a double-take rather than a full-time stoner who was angry at the world (I'm only part-time now and, even though I'm still full of angst, it's more productive at this point).  That and the fact that, after looking at pictures of my fellow grads, I look way younger and far cuter than most of them (especially now that I've lost a ton of weight).  Seriously, people - big bangs were so 1989.  Put the ultra-hold away!!!

I had a conference call regarding my end of year bonus yesterday and I'm a pretty happy camper.  After telling me I really turned things around the second half of the year, they gave me more than I got last December.  I bit my tongue after that comment and said thank you.  I got screwed on my mid-year bonus because of my hyperemesis with Johnny.  The fact that I was at home, hooked up to IV's with daily nurse visits was considered poor job performance.  The world of stock markets is still a stupid fucking boys club.  Johnny was the first baby born to a female employee in over 10 years at my firm and they are pretty insensitive to complications.  At least they gave him a gift - a Vermont Teddy Bear with his name and birthday on the bib.  Part of me wishes they would have just given him a $70 gift card to Target with which we could have bought diapers.  It is really cute, though.  I'm sure Waylon the Cat will enjoy making love to it.

Poor Santa

The other night I was lying in bed and could hear jingle bells down the hall.  My initial guess was that one of the cats was playing with the Christmas "count-down" ribbon from Dave's childhood - a long piece of felt with 24 bow-tied strings on buttons, one for each December day before Christmas.  At the very bottom is a single jingle bell that any cat would love.  I eventually stopped worrying that it might get destroyed and fell asleep since sleep is really a big priority at my house these days.

The next morning, I wandered out of our room and down the hall, nearly tripping over a large stuffed Santa in the middle of the floor.  It's one of those toys that has a "push me" circle on it's hand, enticing small boys to play the recorded holiday message over and over and over and over and over and over again.  It also has a jingle bell on it's hat.

Now, this Santa was on a shelf in the living room when we went to bed the night before.  You may be thinking to yourself, "Hmmm, sounds like Henry was busy after an overly tired set of parents went to bed."  You are wrong.  Santa was, instead, sexually assaulted by Waylon the Cat who has a fondness for anything stuffed.  He doesn't care about the species of the stuffed creature - he is just fine with inter-species sex.  His favorite is a pheasant dog toy, but he has also been known to drag Clifford the Big Red Dog (who is twice Waylon's size) out of Henry's bed to the other side of the house and then downstairs to have his way with him.  Waylon is fixed and has been since we adopted him at the tender age of 8 weeks.  He developed these "urges" after Elvis the Cat came to our home, possibly in an effort to exert some sort of dominance - just not over the new kitten.  It is obvious that Waylon is a bit confused.  He meows seductively to his victims, straddles and then humps them in a way that shows he really isn't sure of what to do with these feelings.  On many occasions, Henry has come home from daycare inquiring how his "guys" have wound up scattered around the house.  Someday, we'll tell him - maybe when he and Dave have the "birds and the bees" talk.

We are a bit concerned about the assault of Santa.  Is our house off the list now?  Will Santa bring Henry the Zero Gravity Wall Racer he asked for?  Will we find coal in our stockings?

Just so Santa doesn't feel singled out, Dave has found the animatronic Christmas carol singing Snowbelly couple on the floor the past two mornings.  Apparently, Waylon is now into threesomes.

Heaven forbid...

The conversation with my 27 year old brother this morning:

Him: "Sorry - did I wake you up?"

Me: "Mmmm...yeah" 

Him: "You can call me back when you can talk."

Me: "No.  That's ok.  I need to wake up."

Him: "Ok.  Um, why is mom on Facebook?  Did you put her up to it?"

Me: "Oh my god.  Why?  Don't you want her on there?  She was going to do it anyway."

Him: "Not really.  I thought she was kidding."

Me: "Then don't be her friend.  It's not like you have anything to hide.  Besides, she's bored.  She'll have fun with it."

Him: "I suppose."

Now I'm curious.  Why do you suppose my brother the financial planner who lives in a small town with his wife and 4 children would be up in arms about our retired (and bored stiff) mother who lives 4 hours away from him being on Facebook?  He's never posted anything that someone wouldn't want their mother to see.  This way, she can keep up with what her grandbabies are doing without having to call or drive 2 to 4 hours to see them.  Ohhhhh, wait.  Maybe it's the controlling wife that doesn't want her mother-in-law to see what they are up to.  Like how she bailed out on Thanksgiving using the excuse that her parents were going to be alone (which was bull shit because her brother was going to be there), but really it was just so she could go shopping with her friend the next morning.  Never mind that I was days away from my due date, lost my plug, was having lots of contractions and couldn't commit to driving 2 hours to eat turkey...which would mean that MY parents would be alone.  

My brother and his wife are the only two that haven't accepted her as a friend.  Nice. 

Drum roll, please...

I've officially asked if Henry is just more immature than his classmates or if there are some other issues at play.  The answer is anticipated between 8:00 and 9:00 CST tomorrow.  I'm just going to cry until then.

Update - his teacher didn't really answer the question.  I'm now asking point blank.

Update - oh hell.

Sleeps like a baby??

Would the person who coined the term "sleeps like a baby" please step forward.  We need to talk.  What kind of baby were you referring to?  Obviously, not a human baby.  Or, at least, not one of mine.  Mine grunt and groan.  Mine get pissed at having to sleep on their backs all by themselves.  Mine are far more comfortable in Mommy or Daddy's arms and don't seem to feel the need to fart, poop or spit up while there.  

Johnny hates his co-sleeper.  I'm not sure if he just prefers the warmth of our arms or if lying on his back, all stretched out, messes with his GI tract.  He seems to struggle with passing gas/pooping while there.  I've been digging through the cobwebs of my memory and it seems to me that John is a clone of Henry at this age.  They even look alike.  I think we kicked Henry out of our room after a couple of weeks so we could sleep.  As it is right now, we grab him at the first squawk and try to rock him back into a quiet slumber.  If I remember correctly, we had to move Henry to his own room and found that he never really went into a full blown cry and would soothe himself back to sleep.  It was just a bit quieter through an oak door.

I Miss Dave

I'm all by myself today.  Day one of maternity leave week #3.  Dave had to rejoin the daily grind and I miss him horribly.  Last week was so nice - it's been a long time since we had that much time alone together (well, sort of).  John doesn't demand a lot of attention outside of just being held, changed and fed right now, so I am counting it as alone time.  I really needed that time with him, what with the holidays being right around the corner, a touch of the baby blues and Henry having some issues at school.  At least I know exactly where he gets his tender heart.

Sometimes I don't think I'm ready for my baby to grow up and maybe that's why he seems a little more immature than he should be.  He's having a hard time adjusting to sitting for a full day of kindergarten and not being the center of attention.  His report card came last week and, aside from doing just fine on the three R's (in fact, he was chosen for the enrichment program and is starting to pull books off his shelves and reading them to us), he is lacking in the life skills categories - he's overly wiggly and is disruptive in his efforts to be funny and get attention.  Dave spoke to his teacher and, apparently, she's been working with the social worker to figure out ways to help him out but I'm not sure why this was the first we'd heard of it.  They are getting him a Disc-O Sit for his chair and circle time and I am now having to trust that they know what they are doing and not setting him up to get picked on - especially since he was called "stupid" and got punched in the stomach by a couple kids from his class last Friday.  I called my mom and balled my eyes out.  I wondered aloud if it would be appropriate to teach him to say, "I'm the one in the enrichment program - you're not so fuck off."  Or maybe, the next time I see one of the mothers (the one who comes to the elementary school with her bra purposely hanging out of her tops - yes, on more than one occasion), I might mention that if her kid lays another hand on mine, I'll have his ass kicked out of that school so fast her head would spin.  The last thing I need is for stupid kids with bad parenting making his frustration with the first (and most fun) year worse.  We put him in the all day class so he would get art and music thrown into his curriculum and have more opportunities for reading and writing.  I know he loves his music class and he's been having fun playing floor hockey in phy-ed.  I hope his teachers know what they are doing...