Quite the little man about town…

L to R: Keeghan, Me, Donna Andrews, and Casey D.

I took Keeghan with me and went to a book signing by one of my very favorite authors, Donna Andrews. Whereupon I found out that I enjoyed listening to her talk about her books almost as much as I enjoy reading them. Which I do over, and over, and over again. If you’re a reader like I am you know what I mean… there are just some books that get to be like friends, and you want to spend some time with them every now and again.

As an extra bonus, we discovered the One More Page bookstore in Arlington. They sell wine and chocolate in addition to books… In other words, we’ll be back!

A little Mushing Going on there

I opened my email this morning and found this:

Last week, I was delighted to attend the opening of a show at River Farm Park which includes some photography by family friend, Brian McGahren. While we were there, he captured this moment of my parents mushing on Bitty Mister, whom Ian now calls “Smarty Pants Baby,” for reasons known only to him.

In addition to how well Brian caught the expressions of adoration on my parent’s faces when they look at Keeghan, my mother has never much liked to be photographed, so truly great shots of her are rare. This picture is priceless, and WELL worth keeping Keeghan up past his bedtime so I could enjoy the art show, which I highly recommend you check out if you happen to be local!

What did we do today?

A better question would be… what DIDN’T we do today?

We blew bubbles at the park

We played peek-a-boo with Jonathan

We experimented with mixing colors

and found out that Tempera paint is apparently closely related to woad, because copious amounts of scrubbing and castile soap were not sufficient to remove it from Ian’s skin completely.

We pulled vines

and made wreaths, which we wore on our heads

We chatted with Sophie the Amazon Princess

We created a masterpiece

We redecorated

We hung the butterfly house

and we got really, really dirty.

Taking a Walk with My Children

Me and the boys went for a walk this morning. We went early, before the bugs come out and before it gets too hot. Ian asked the name of all the plants we saw, and Mommy told him what she can remember, half of which is probably wrong.

We watched a work crew repairing the neighbor’s roof, and Ian opined that they should spray water down the chimney. When I asked him what he thought would happen if they did that, he said, “Well, Mommy, it will just put the fire out.” I have made a mental note that if I see him headed for the roof with the hose, I need to get on that immediately.

I call Shenanigans. (Or, How important can a chair be, part II.)

You know how the new baby is supposed to keep everyone awake at nights? In my experience that isn’t really how it happens. He wakes up to eat, I feed him, he goes back to sleep. Everyone else can sleep through this process. I’ve seen it firsthand. You know what nobody can sleep through? Shenanigans.

Last night I woke up at 2:30 to feed Keeghan and there were three people in my bed. Fortunately, Keeghan had not Apparated again. Instead, Ian had come and gotten into our bed. When he wakes up at night he has a tendency to snuggle up to Michael on the opposite side from me because he knows Michael won’t wake up and he’ll get to “snuggle” in our room. Because he also knows that if *I* wake up, I’ll go to his room to “snuggle” and leave when he falls asleep.

At any rate, I decided to go use the “good” chair to feed the baby, since no one was using Ian’s room. While I was in there, Ian came back in his room and got in his bed, and I though, “everyone wins! Let’s have cake!” So when I was finished feeding Keeghan (okay, when I woke up in the chair and he was asleep instead of eating) I put him to bed and went to my room. Where I found Ian sacked out on my side of the bed, using my pillow.

So I tried to force myself into my own bed, which was met with squirming, kicking, and protestations that there “is no more rooms for me!” from my son. The commotion, which may or may not have included a command from the Mean Mommy to “kick me again and see what happens,” prompted Michael to take Ian to his own room to “snuggle.”

When Keeghan woke up 10 minutes later, he and I laid down in “our” bed to nurse.(Yeah, he’s having trouble staying awake for this 3 am feed. I hope it means that the 3am days are numbered, and not that he’s going to get into the habit of cluster feeding at 3 am.)I had started to get really teed off by the whole bed circus thing and then… I nuzzled his fuzzy baby head with my cheek. How is it that with all the technology in the world we’ve never once rivaled a fuzzy baby head for sweet, relaxing sensations? It’s like Mommy Crack. I can’t get enough.

And Ian came wandering out of his room. He went to the bathroom. He went back in his room. I heard indistinct voices and thumping. And a few minutes later he came out again on an unknown errand. On the upside, all this excitement kept me from falling asleep and failing to return the baby to his room. Once I did get Keeghan back to bed things had quieted down in there, so I stuck my head in and found… Ian wandering around his room while Michael slept in the “good” chair.

I tried to talk Ian into going back to bed but he refused to do so as long as Michael was in the chair. So I called Michael’s name to wake him and alert him to the situation and he replied, “What do you want me to do? I’m trying to sleep!” Which went over really well since I’d been up, unless I had missed one, five times in one hour. So, anyway, after another visit from the Mean Mommy, they shut Ian’s door and spent some more time working it out while I tried to figure out if I was too hungry to sleep or too sleepy to eat. Sleep won.

So today we will embark on Operation Giant Frog Chair. Right after we appease the Mean Mommy with an offering of Krispy Kreme. Stay Tuned.

How important can a chair be, anyway?

So, you know there is a chair in Keeghan’s room, right? And you probably also figured out that the idea is that I would be nursing the baby in that chair. There’s only one problem.  Have you ever heard of the fact that restaurants have something called “15 minute chairs” to encourage turnover? Well, as far as I’m concerned, that chair is a 10 minute chair. I cannot comfortably relax into it to nurse the baby at night. It’s either the crick in the neck because the back is at the wrong angle or the fact that the arms are the wrong distance apart so I have to contort myself into a hunchback to keep the baby from “falling off.” So I try to “rush” him, which means he doesn’t get enough to eat to encourage his healthy sleep habits. (In other words, he wakes up every hour until I go crazy or take him to bed with me and let him nurse for the rest of the night.) The end result is, I don’t like it, he doesn’t like it, and we both just want to go kick everyone out of “our” bed so we can nurse and be happy.

As for co-sleeping, I LOVE the snuggles but I sleep WAY too deeply for me to feel this is a safe for Keeghan. In fact, the night before last I woke up in the middle of the night with the baby in my bed and did not know how he got there. Either I’m sleepwalking, which is not out of the realm of possibility but works pretty much on auto-pilot, or the kid can Apparate. Of those two possibilites, I hope I’m sleepwalking. But this means that even my unconscious mind has rejected that chair.

Plus, try explaining to the four year old why the BABY can sleep in your bed, but HE can’t. Yeah, you can’t, can you? So pretty often I wake up singing…

“And the little one said, ‘roll over, roll over,’
and they all rolled over and one fell out with a terrible shout
please remember to tie a knot in your pajamas…”

The upshot is that I’m going to have to save us all by moving the “good” nursing chair from Ian’s room to Keeghan’s. The PROBLEM is that Ian knows that chair as “his” chair. And so far bribery and negotiation have not worked. So now it’s time to try deviousness and trickery. I’ll keep you posted.

Enter: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Cutest Monster EVER.

Daddy is out of town so we are making do as best we can, just the three of us. Which is nice because I have the boys all to myself but also hard because EVERYONE misses Big Loud Thing. (That’s a Doctor Who joke, right there. If you get it, well, good for you and if you don’t, well… it’s probably not that funny anyway.) So today, we had plans to go to the spray park. At noon. And I started trying to get this family ready to leave at 7 am, because that’s how things go when you have a four year old. People think it’s hard to get out of the house with a new baby. That’s bull. The baby has to bow to my will. He can’t move. He can’t talk. He just lays there and looks cute. He hardly even cries. In fact, I honestly think he just checks to make sure Big Milk Thing is around and then goes along for the ride. (That’s the rest of the Doctor Who joke. Non-geeks can just move along.)

Now, honestly, this should have been no sweat, because after spending an entire day refusing to nap anywhere but in Raba’s arms, Keeghan was back to loving his crib today. (In case you’re out of the loop… Yesterday at 11:22: “so far today every time I try to put Keeghan in his crib for a nap he works himself up and cries. Then, when I hold him, if I don’t tuck his legs up under him JUST LIKE Raba does, more tears. Dimples when I get it right. And the grandparent spoiling has officially begun at age 6 weeks and 4 days.”) So we had a good hour of Mommy + Ian time to get ready for a fun afternoon.  But the fact that Ian had been carrying on an oppositional, “No yes no yes no yes no yes” argument WITH HIMSELF so far that morning should have clued me in. We spent TWO HOURS on getting dressed. In reality this means he spent a lot of time naked and wandering the house. We’re trying to work on the goal of efficient, self driven dressing in the mornings around here because well… Mommy’s hands are full and her ability to sit in your room handing you clothing one item at a time is probably going to be impinged upon by epic diaper blowouts once Daddy returns to work next week.

Mr. Hyde

Which is when Ian ran out of his room naked and panicky shouting, “THEY’RE CLOSING. THEY’RE CLOSING. THEY’RE CLOSING THE SPRAY PARK. MOMMY, HELP ME GET READY.” He wasn’t playing. He was seriously afraid that he was going to miss it because he wasn’t dressed. Which for some reason did not prompt him to just… put on his clothes. We pushed through this somehow… I honestly don’t remember. It’s either the new mom brain or I’ve just had a psychotic break.  Anyway, we went to the spray park, which turned out not to be as challenging as I thought, because I was able to park the baby in the shade at a strategic location where I could see Ian almost the entire time we were there and he’d come check in every few minutes. Which is an awesome example of why I LOVE HAVING A FOUR YEAR OLD. He’s old enough to be independent and that is SO COOL. We call this behavior “Dr. Jekyll.”

However, while at the park, he also screamed at several little kids, punched a woman, pestered anyone foolish enough to speak to him, and generally raised Cain. Hello, Mr. Hyde. Why do you even stop by? Your manners are terrible. You whine. You fixate. You rage. To wit: When we got home from the spray park, Ian wanted burgers. I said, “no sweat! We’ll cook up some burgers!” At which point Ian announced, “But you cannot have cheese on yours, Mommy. Cheese is only for me.” Hm. The problem here is that you never know when one of these proclamations is going to arc over from “funny things kids say” to “accede to my demands or I’ll kill all the hostages.” So I COULD have been looking forward to an evening of dragging Ian, kicking and screaming (which unfortunately is not a metaphor when you are dealing with Mr. Hyde) to his room, over and over, all because I enjoy my burgers, WHICH I MYSELF AM PREPARING, with cheese. But it didn’t happen. Hello, Dr. Jekyll. I’m glad you arrived while the burgers were cooking. Everyone loves you. You are charming, sweet, polite, and funny. Also, you give awesome hugs. And you have a GREAT smile.

Dr. Jekyll, with friend Gregory, as Zoo Animals, which is more appropriate than you know.

Some days are all Dr. Jekyll and a few, thankfully rare, ones are almost all Mr. Hyde. But there are also days when it’s like living with a fast cycle bipolar disorder patient- he switches from Jekyll to Hyde repeatedly, rapidly, and WITH NO WARNING. I feel like I’m one of those lumberjacks riding a log rolling down the river, moving as fast as I can not to be tipped off into the river where I’ll be hit on the head with my own log, drown, and die.  And this is when my Grandma Gray would have said: “If you aren’t lucky enough to have a family, then these things never happen to you.”

Grandma, you were SO RIGHT.