Wednesday, November 14, 2012

A step back?

Baby Center, The Bump, a friend, and two strangers have recently warned me of the dreaded 18 month sleep regression.  "It's like the 4 month regression on steroids,"  I was warned.  Keep calm though, is only a phase!  "My baby was back to her normal 12 hours a night in a few weeks."  Oh thank goodness.  Whew.  I'm so happy for you, sweet nosy stranger. 

Oh generic grouping of all babies in one category internet websites.  Oh parents of children who have EVER slept well.  I, for once, don't have the problem, YOU DO!

HA!  

Because in order for a regression to take place, first sleep in a long, delicious stretch would have to exist.  And it did for you, and that's wonderful, but for once I win.  I WIN.  Because you were all, oh I have it figured out, my kid sleeps so well, pat yourself on the back, and then BAM your kid won't sleep and you panic.  And I don't blame you.  Your glorious 12 hours of sleep is slowly slipping away and there is nothing you can do about it.  I feel sad for you, I really do.  You were actually used to sleeping, and you were terrified that it  was going to be taken from you.

I, on the other hand, have not a care in the world in regard to this alleged sleep regression.  I could give a shit if my kids sleep "regresses" at 18 months.  What is he going to do?  Fight me at bedtime? Wake up often through the night?  Fight naps?  Karate kick me in the throat?  Umm, done and DONE.  So what you are really telling me internet websites and strangers?  Are you telling me that for the past 16 months we have been having the 18 month sleep regression?

Well then, the way I see it we should be just about done then, shouldn't  we. 


Ridgeback sleeps...

Friday, November 9, 2012

Monday, November 5, 2012

Voices from the toybox

Anyone who has a young child know what I'm talking about.  You get the kid to bed, clean up the tornado of toys and settle down on the sofa to relax, when all of a sudden some demented blue eared dog cries, "Hug me."  You jump about 11 feet of the couch.   What the...

"I looove you."

"Tummy."

Fuck you creepy dog and your weird voice that sounds like a kid but I'm pretty sure is an adult.  Who the hell voices these toys anyway!?  And out come the batteries of yet another toy.

"Play with me!"

"Is it under the purple shoe?"

Okay, now there is an octopus giving me a guilt trip?!  I don't want to play with you octopus who only has 7 visible legs.  (The 8th is hiding around the back and took me months to locate.  And you KNOW I looked!)  You are bullshit and get balls stuck in your head all damn day.  I will not play with you, I don't even like you!  

This is why I like a nice wooden pull toy.  No wooden pull toy has ever tried to guilt me into a hug, a game or a peek under its purple shoe. 


Friday, November 2, 2012

Pumpkin head

Last year around this time Caches was a hot mess of screaming torture.  I'm kind of a dork, okay a huge dork who looks forward to every little tradition of every single holiday.  I distinctly remember last year being so excited to carve pumpkins for the first time as a family only to have him fuss and cry the whole time.  "Look baby, pumpkin seeds!"  "Look baby, pumpkin guts!  Isn't this super cool?"  His response?  Fuck you AND your stupid pumpkin and put me back in the womb!

And if I could have, I WOULD have!

This year he still wasn't all that interested in the pumpkin guts like I'd hoped, but the seeds, OBSESSED!  He was "cooking" them, sniffing them, throwing them around, stirring, playing, feeding them to the dog, licking and loving them.  Only problem was that I kinda wanted to save them to roast.  Details.  So I picked them up in their sliminess, washed off the dirt and dog spit and roasted those suckers!

But wow, what a difference a year makes.  It was fun!  There were no tears, no screaming, and no crying.  Sure, there was some why can't I hold the knife attitude, but I can handle attitude.  Ryan and I reminisced for a moment about this time last year and how difficult it was for everyone.  I agreed that it was ridiculous and emotional and HORRIBLE.  Then he asked me if I really remembered.  Dude, you don't just forget that shit. I was and will forever be traumatized.  I will never, ever, EVER in my life forget those first six month.

E V E R

At least now though I don't want to punch all the people who promised me it would get better.  Because it has, and it gets better every day.

Here is the pumpkin man in all his seed sorting glory