Monday, February 27, 2012

A Morning Spar


Just a little fist fight to start off the morning.  Note how well Abner and Georgia are playing until a giant red deer comes in and turns the friendly spar into a wild cat chase.


Saturday, February 25, 2012

Friday, February 24, 2012

Inside Your Bathroom Cabinet

Chase the Rainbow

I like to decorate for all major holidays; Easter grass, shamrocks, heart shaped thingambobs, faux spiderwebs and ridiculous useless pots of "gold?"  Yes, please!  I'm THAT person.  So when I realized that my Valentine's Day decor was seriously lacking I decided to hit up the after holiday sales.

Unfortunately every other person in town had the same idea leaving only broken heart shaped lollypops, red dye 40 pink cake mix, hideous "gifts" and conversation hearts, in Espanol!  I know there is supposed to be a tilde but I have no clue how to make it happen so we'll just pretend it is there, OK?  Oh, and I totally bought the conversation hearts.  $1.24 a bag and perfect for my empty apothecary jars next year, muy bien!

Later that day I headed out to a birthday party accidentally leaving the bags of conversation hearts low enough for the ever starving, counter surfing Ridgeback.  No bueno!!

She ate an entire bag...AN ENTIRE BAG!  300 conversation hearts down the hatch.  So many letters in her belly that I half expected her to shit me a poem the next morning, but the signs that all those hearts on the inside would soon be outside began to show themselves around bedtime, typical.   Lilly was muy enfermo!

Picture it, I'm laying in bed with my eyes closed trying desperately to get an hour of half ass sleep in before Cache wakes up for a feeding when I hear, "Babe, I think Lilly is going to be sick."


"Well, lets get her off of the carpet!"

"But her feet will slip."

"Really!!!??? I feel bad for her and I know I am the one that left the candy out, but if she pukes an entire bag of colored hearts on the carpet, I will kill both of you!"

And so we sat in the front room and stared.  We stared in silence as Lilly paced the floor, turning circles and trying to get comfortable.  The poor thing finally lay down only to get up a moment later and projectile vomit a rainbow of gelatin, sugar and food coloring...ON THE RUG!! One small area rug island in a sea of hardwood.  Good aim dog, I don't know why I'm surprised.

And with the vomit cleaned up and my hands washed it was time to cue the crying baby.  Perfecto! Necesito una siesta

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Where You Work

Are My Eyes Closed?

As I type, the neighbor's gardener is edging the lawn right outside Caches' window.  He is asleep, for now, so I am shifting my attention back and forth between praying to the video monitor that he stays asleep and attempting to write a coherent blog post for the possible 4 people who are sticking with me and still reading.

I would be lying if I told you Caches' sleep hasn't improved, but my pants would be completely on fire if I told you that I was pleased with his sleeping habits, waking bright eyed and bushy tailed.  I'm still rising black eyed and knotted pony tail.  You see, in addition to his poor night sleep and wakings, Caches is a cat napper, between twenty and thirty minutes, who likes to throw in a random hour long nap about once a week just to fuck with me.  And the gardener woke him up....

Where was I?  Oh yes, the baby messing with my head.

I know I talked a little bit about doing a very modified version of cry it out with him a few months ago and gradually, VERY gradually it has worked.  The first step was getting him to stay asleep longer than thirty minutes all through the night which meant he needed to learn that waking up in his room was not scary, and that he in fact COULD simply roll over and go back to sleep without screaming as though his mattress were covered in hot coals.  This meant no more nursing him back to sleep.  The 24 hour boobie bar was CLOSED!

Now, I know he is a growing boy and still needs to nurse throughout the night so it's not like I cut him off completely, in fact he still eats 2-3 times through the night depending on his bedtime or how desperately I want 30 more minutes of sleep come 6 am, it's just now he has to wait about 4 hours between feedings.  If he wakes up before 4 hours have passed he gets love but no boob!  We started with immediately rushing to his room and picking him up and comforting him, then we waited a bit before going to him, then we stopped picking him up, then we started waiting a little bit longer still, and finally we let him figure it out.  Evey man for himself or something like that.

The general rule now is that if he hasn't put himself back to sleep within ten minutes then he gets "help" in doing so.   Most nights he only wakes up to eat and maybe a few 1-5 minute sporadic screaming fits but there are still the occasional every hour or two torturous WHY BABY, WHY!!!??? kind of nights.  And so I have come to accept, or maybe concede, actually I've just flat given up on the thought of him quietly fussing a bit or even just QUIETLY putting himself to sleep.  Caches doesn't do in between.  He is either asleep or SCREAMING the kind of scream that has the neighbors calling the cops. 

I have spent hours, and I mean HOURS watching the video monitor and I'm telling you it is like a switch.  Baby peacefully asleep, awe, so sweet, I'll just close my eyes and go back to sleep myself.  BAM, head pops up and KABOOM, like a bomb exploding in a fit he's screaming.  Then,  just as quickly he is back asleep.  Freakin' weirdo!

I suppose I should probably stop calling my kid weird and staying things like, "normal babies do X Y Z, but my baby does C R Y."  Pretty sure in all my years studying psychology that a little thing called self fulfilling prophecy may come to be a problem.  Anyway, long story short, he sleeps SO much better than he used to and I can only hope that it continues to improve until one day my baby is sleeping all night long.  You know, when he's 15.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Tuesday, February 14, 2012


Clock It

I have spent the past seven and a half months trying to get Caches on something that resembles a schedule.  It's not working.  The only and I mean ONLY thing that is somewhat predictable is that he will be hungry every 2 hours.  Yep, my 7.5 month old baby STILL nurses every 2 hours like a newborn.  Probably because he likes to eat ALL day like his mama he never holds still and is constantly burning calories; it takes a lot of energy to drive ones mother INSANE, and I should know.

I have read all the books, attempted to let him develop his own schedule (epic FAIL), and done research above and beyond what most would call sufficient.  I have literally tried everything aside from locking him in his room until he's 30; he resists.  And I don't know why I am surprised.  You'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now.  You'd think I would resign and just let it be but that's simply not my style.  We have established that I'm kind of a control freak, right?  I thought so. 


This is an INCREDIBLY hard pill to swallow, and I down 8 pills in one gulp every morning.  But this, this is a fucking horse pill!  You see, I like routine.  I like a schedule.  I like to follow the rules. I like to know what time each day I can expect a small break to stare at a clean sheet of white paper and clear my head.  I like to be able to plan an outing, a play date, a SHOWER! I LIKE CONTROL!

And I honestly thought that by now he would at least kind of fall into a routine of eating, sleeping, pooping, having meltdowns and practicing his baby skills, but no, not even close.   He still poops at least 4 nights a week in the middle of the night just for funsies!  Which means I have to change him in the dark while he screams and panics and thrashes about, shit going everywhere.  But I don't care, I'm an Olympic athlete dark room diaper changer; and I'm too tired to care.  I slap on a new diaper, tell the neighbors to put the phone down, I'm not torturing the baby, wash my hands and attempt to put him back to sleep.  Attempt being the operative word.  "Oh, just push back his feedings and he won't poop at night anymore."  Um, I can't cut off all liquids after 6pm like a puppy!

And like all of our rough roads, it ends in a rarely seen, forbidden city called sleep.  Sleep seems to be the one thing tying everything together in a frayed boyscout knot of chaos.  Some well meaning strangers tell me, "Oh he just doesn't want to miss anything."  What the hell is he going to miss??  NOTHING IS GOING ON!  I tell you what he's missing, a mommy that can form a logical sentence and remember to wear underwear.

Now, I know in the grand scheme of life this isn't all that big of a deal.  I know he will eventually sleep through the night, not poop at 5AM, and get on a schedule, but I am a catastrophic thinker.  And there is nothing you can say that won't make me think that his lack of sleeping now will lead to attention and behavioral problems as a toddler, which will lead to struggles in school, which will cause him to give up and play video games all night in our basement when he is 45 years old.  Just waiting for us to die so he can inherit the house and sleep all day when I'm dead and could give a shit if he sleeps or not!

Yep, this what keeps me up at night, thoughts of my son being a 45 year old video game addict and it being ALL MY FAULT!  Someone please, medicate me.  With booze at the very least.  OK, chocolate, how about chocolate?

Monday, February 13, 2012

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Tuesday, February 7, 2012


Ear Plugs, Aisle 3

As Caches becomes more manageable in public, i.e not screaming the ENTIRE TIME, we have been venturing out more and more on our own.  The car ride is hit or miss with the screaming, but the fresh air and people watching make it worth it either way.  One of our favorite haunts is Target, we probably go at least twice a week.  I'm actually considering dressing Cache in a red shirt and khaki's and leaving him there for a shift to learn the ropes.

The other day we were wandering up and down the aisles when something shiny caught Caches' eye.  Because he can not speak English and I can not speak whining baby, a quiet outing started to get heated.  He starts with a quiet whine that quickly gets a particular "tone."  At this point if I can figure out what he wants he will calm down and happily chew on whatever it is he wanted.  But if I can't figure out what he wants my trying only serves to piss him off until he's like what the hell mom!!  READ MY MIND, DAMN IT!!!

Well, this was one of those times, and his "tone" quickly took on a life of its own until we were in full blown meltdown mode.  REALLY!!??  Now, when Caches decides the party is over, the party is OVER.  It is so over that people chug their beers and run for the door, no time to say goodbye, the cops are here.  And because I know this about my sweet blue eyed boy I was already power walking toward the door ditching my cart in the toy aisle and apologizing in my head to whoever would have to put it away for me.

On our way out we got plenty of, "oh that poor girl, she has NO control over her child," looks. But the teenagers blocking the doorway so they could have a pow wow about  video games learned the real lesson.  Teenagers, condoms are on aisle 13, stock up!  Yep, just my son and I, walking, SCREAMING birth control. 

Hey, kids parents, your welcome. 

Thursday, February 2, 2012

At Least Two Dollars Short

I fully intended to start this yesterday, on the first of the month, as the "rules" state.  But because I am always a day late and a dollar short these days, I am starting on the second, at 7:27 PM.  And it will have to do. 

I am following "February Photo A Day,"  A fun challenge that one of my friends suggested.  Each Day I will simply post the inspiration behind the photo and a picture.  No description. 

Today I won't do that.  Today I will add my picture to this post and break the rules.  I will also add the picture from yesterday that I failed to post YESTERDAY because I decided going to bed at 8:30 to stare at the ceiling sounded far more exciting. Rebel

1. Your View Today

2. Inside your refrigerator

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

7 Months


Today you woke up smiling.  You must have known it was your seven month birthday.  Or perhaps it was the pea and oatmeal poop in your pants that you knew I would soon be changing, all the while wishing I had one extra arm to keep your hands out of the poop while I wrestled with you, your body rolling around like a baby crocodile.

Caches Michael, you are becoming quite the handful...And I love it.  You have so much personality, so much passion, such a desire to learn and explore.  You do not sit still and casually observe life, you jump in with two feet and experience it!  From the moment you wake up in the morning, a little too early for my taste thankyouverymuch, until the moment you give in to sleep, you are moving!  Occasionally you are so busy that I forget to stop, breathe, and enjoy the little things.

Like when you are sitting in front of me and I catch myself staring at the perfect little divot along the back of your neck.  One of my absolute favorite places to kiss.  Your tiny shoulders scrunching up just a bit when you feel my breath on your neck.  Then you turn to look back at me so sweetly, so intent.  And I take that look, that perfect moment in time and tuck it away for safe keeping.

Not all of our moments are so lovely, but each day is sprinkled with precious times like this.  Moments when you are sleepy and you hold me so close it's as if you wish our bodies were one again.  Moments when I catch you staring up at me, concentrating on a new task or giggling at the dogs.  These are the moments women who have grown children are remembering when they remind me to slow down and enjoy this time. 

Thankfully we are having a lot more of these moments lately and a lot less of the screaming crying let's see how long until mommy snaps and seriously considers selling me at Wal Mart for 25 dollars!  Six years in prison seems like a treat at these moments because at least in jail I would get a moment of peace and quiet!  And my cell mate would be Martha Stewart and we would crochet shawls and exchange recipes and... OK, so what,  maybe I have daydreamed about going to jail before.  Perfectly normal, right?

From the day you were born, baby, I knew you had an old soul.  This baby stuff just wasn't going to work well for you.  You had a different agenda than the average infant, you were out to get things done.  I think it is because of this that you already believe you can walk and try multiple times a day without even acknowledging the fact that we are spotting you.  You ignore our safety net and insist that we are the crazy ones, that we don't know what you are capable of and could we please just let go and let you do it YOUR SELF! 

Good lord that attitude is going to set us up for some real fun come toddlerhood, but it is also an attitude that will serve you well your whole life through.  Caches, you are so incredibly determined.  You have a rare zest for life.  You grab life by the shirt and twirl it around at 100  miles an hour until someone throws up and we all get kicked off the ride, but damn it, we remember that ride forever.  You are what memories are made of, baby boy. 

And tonight, when your perfect little body finally gives in to sleep, I'll hold you close for just a few extra moments and I'll breathe deeply in your spirit before lay you down for sleep.  And then I'll drink a huge glass of wine and rest up because I know ONE of us will wake up ready tomorrow and it won't be me!