Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Day Care Dropout

The baby bird flu experience this past weekend was more than we could handle so we’re taking Willem out of day care. I am sad to say that he won’t be tapping the breast milk kegs with his buddy, Prine, anymore but ever since he has been in school, he’s been sick. Going only two days a week allowed him the right amount time to get well enough to head back to class and pocket a shiny new ailment for me to wrestle over the weekend. Coughs, sneezers, a river of runny nostrils, diarrhea, and fever is just not acceptable for this parental unit. I talked to his teachers at school today and they were sad to hear that little W was quittin’ school and said they did their best to keep him in a bubble of protection throughout. I’m sure they did. We will try again in the fall when I have more time to do the voodoo I need to keep the bugs under control. In the meantime, we’ve got our Alabama nanny scheduled to the hilt. Let the cursing with a sweet Southern drawl begin.

I spent most of the morning making an enemy of my son as I vacuumed his nose with the blue bulb syringe. This is not how I like to leave him before heading to a long go of it in the salt mine. It’s bad enough my time with him is so brief these days. I don’t want him having nightmares of a mommy-like figure with fingers of blue suction aparati, palms of freezing diaper wipes, and nail clipper lips to pinch his pieces and parts. Yikes. Even that scared me!

Sunday, January 29, 2006

Today #3

Today, sweet little man, you are five months old...

This month you introduced me to the world of infant ailments and I blame your daycare for nearly all of them. Although your infant room is a completely detached structure about 200 yards from where the bigger kids swap diseases, it must have some sort of water slide-like contraption that shunts illnesses in your direction. I'm sure the other babies in your room have been sharing with you the same germ crusted toys that they eagerly poke in and out of their mouths, too. I’d take your tiny behind out of there if I really didn’t think that you do love being among other short people and the teachers there. You just let me know when you’ve had enough. In the meantime, I’ll put up with that runny nose for a little while longer.

This is the time of year at work when I become ridiculously busy and get to see you less and less and it breaks my heart in two. When I have you in my arms at the end of each day, it’s all I can do to not swallow you whole. I’d put you in our bed every night if I thought daddy would allow it but he’s already being patient enough to wait until I put you in your own bed before he gets wifey on his watch. Speaking of daddy, it seems you two are building a wonderful bond all your own and I just love it when you flash him that dimple framed gummy smile in recognition. I know the both of you had a rough go of it in the beginning but things seem to be falling in to place now. That is such a relief.

You are getting long and lean and your features are becoming more and more defined. I can almost imagine what you will look like as a young man and I know you will be giving the male population a run for its money some day. You already have a gaggle of girls awaiting your eighteenth birthday. I will buy you a big stick with my face carved on the end of it as a gift so you can effectively beat them off.

Your favorite toy right now is your sock monkey. You cling to it like a baby monkey yourself. You have gotten more mobile in your crib and can almost make a complete counter clockwise rotation throughout the night. On many occasions though, you don’t make it past the 10 o’clock position because your big head gets stuck in front of your crib aquarium. Often I have to come rescue you from the thing clicking on and off, on and off, fish going up and down, songs bonging on and off, the lights strobing like a disco because you’re tapping it with your forehead every time you move. It’s sadly amusing.

You’re still a lover of the water and when I turn you over on your yellow sponge raft on to your belly, you kick and wiggle with ferocity. You’ve inhaled enough water to know that sticking your face in it is a bad idea. You’ve really grown to despise the post bath ritual when I put the lavender baby lotion on your body. As soon as I grab the tube and flip it open, you start squinting and blinking and making gagging sounds. Lately, you do that when I grab anything because you hate the lotion so much. Mommy thinks it’s funny.

This weekend, we have been battling your first fever and it has completely freaked me out. You have been a sweet lump of heat in my arms and although I can tell you are miserable, you have been an angel through it all. Unfortunately, your daddy had to go play some shows out of town and hasn’t been around but I can tell he is extremely worried and can’t wait to get home to hold you and kiss you and make you feel safe. We both want you to feel that way and to know that we are here for you always.

Love, Mom

Thursday, January 26, 2006

Rock Star Baby

Last weekend we drove to Dallas to see GoGo and watch Daddy play a show. We stayed overnight and that was just long enough for Willem to get a horrible case of the nasal drips. I didn't realize how drafty the floor area was until I was sitting there with him the next morning. He slept in a playpen provided by the hotel and was just downwind of a draft. I'll pay closer attention to that possiblity next time. So how did baby handle the rock n roll circus?
Just like this...

The owner of the venue came over to find out what type of head phones baby was wearing so he could get some for a friend. Dang things really work. I tried them on myself and could barely hear the rantings of Guy Fantasy.

Towards the end of the show, I received a call from my youngest brother who is an EMT and volunteer fireman. He was in the area dropping off a patient at a nearby hospital and wanted to swing by the club. It would be the first time he would see his nephew in person. I didn't consider what it might look like to have an ambulance pull up to the venue. The paramedics climbed out and were standing at our table when the "manager" of the Small Stars hurried over to make sure everything was okay with the littlest Small Star. Ooooops.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Damn Wireless

I was just putting the finishing touches on a blog update when the wireless network I am writing from decided to interrupt and ask me to join its network thus causing me to lose all that was written. How infuriating is that?!? Now I'm out of time, have to head to the salt mine and who knows when I'll get back to this. Grrrrr...

Thursday, January 19, 2006

Who Would Jesus Bomb?

That was a bumpersticker I saw today.

On a MUCH lighter note, I read on the web about a porn star named Brittney Rears.

Breakfast Taco

I've grounded myself from Target so I'm here at an eastside cafe noshing some pastries with the coupon for diapers burning a hole in my pocket. I'll get the diapers from a drugstore later.

Thank you to all of the baby mamas who offered up some valuable advice on Willem's condition. We're still battling the poop project but I'm hoping it all improves soon. This morning I had to change him once for a hiney backfire that leapt to the middle of his back and just as I had gotten him cleaned up and redressed, I proceeded to nuzzle his ribs, make him laugh and arf at the same time. He wasn't too pleased when he realized I had to change him yet again. The face he makes when he has to swallow the curds and whey is hilarious and sad at the same time. To make matters worse, I had to dash back into the house twice after returning home en route to day care to get things I had forgotten. The icing on the cake was when I got Willem to school and was unloading his extra onesies (because I know he's going to need them) and bottles out of his bag, I noticed that one of the bottles had fallen over and leaked all over the clothing. Ugh. Makes me feel like somedays I shouldn't be a mom. Thankfully, little Will is too young to know what the heck is going on and smiles at me like I can do no wrong. Sweet, sweet child.

Monday, January 16, 2006

Ground Control To Major Tom

Somehow I have managed well with baby sans papa since Saturday. I am surprised only because a) I'm super freakin' busy at work and come home completely whooped, b) baby's much more of a wiggle worm/nosey bird these days and has to be in all the business around him, and c) yesterday my sitter was sick which meant I had to find someone last minute who could only stay 2.5 hours giving me enough time at the office to completely freak out over the workload I couldn't address. It all played out well and I was able to juggle baby, answer emails, figure some budgets from home, AND heat up a TV dinner before passing out at 10:30. I think I'm earning one of those t-shirt/cape combos that Super Moms wear (I'll take mine bedazzled, thank you). One bit of concern though, and all of you baby mommas lend me some advice, I was feeding Willem at 3 a.m., sitting on the floor of his bedroom and he knocks out two full boobs no prob. He does, however, within minutes of eating barf up the contents of his tummy like an opened faucet all over me (which is fine, really). He's never done that quantity before but wait, I'm not done. He now has a bad case of diarrhea and came home from school with diaper rash. I'm so sad for his little bottom. Evidently he had many diaper changes today. So what do I do besides rub balm on his tiny buttocks? Oh, no fever by the way, and he acts like there's nothing wrong, my little champ.

This morning I had on Sesame Street which I haven't seen in eons. Because I was raised on the muppet fodder, I feel it's okay for my kid to watch. Willem only occasionally tunes in though between gnawing the legs of his stuffed calamari or sucking the life out of his musical dog with crunchy ears. Norah Jones was on the show. Her guitar player is a good friend of ours (and a great guy by the way..."Hi Adam!"). It was hilarious because she was sitting at a piano talking to an Elmo-like creature or maybe it was Elmo. I dunno. Anyway, she was sad because the letter "Y" never showed up to see her so she played one of her hits and sang, "I don't know why "Y" didn't come." It was so hokey. I wonder how much Sesame Street pays musicians ? Probably not much because that street is still such a dump.

Daddy comes home tomorrow but there won't be any date night. I have to work late. Oh, I forgot to mention that on our first date night, the one where I pretended to be Elmer Fudd, we were so hopped up on vino and marital bliss that we didn't pay the sitter. I guess we were like, "Hey, thanks for sitting with the kid. Cute, ain't he? I'm sure he was no trouble. Whew, we're beat. Thanks again. Okay. See ya!" Click. When she wrote down her hours later in the week, she included date night and I couldn't believe we didn't pay her. So we're still trying to get the hang of this parenting thing. Don't worry. She got her money and she still likes us.

Willem's "When are you going to put away that flashing thing in your hand and take me on a stroller walk?" face.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Universal Remote

We just got one of those things that consolidates the 5 remotes we have scattered in the living room. Now I don't have to dig for all of them in seat cushions, behind the sofa, or under baby's floor gym when I want to watch television. The problem now is keeping up with the ONE dang remote. I should put in on giant chain and attach it to the entertainment center.

On a related note, I'm feeling like a universal remote myself these days. Back at work full time, soakin' up baby in the short hours of the day that I see him, being a wife to a supportive husband, picking up after EVERYONE, shuttling baby to and from school, helping out the new sitter. I do, however, enjoy the fast pace of the days as they zoom, zoom by. Certainly makes the time spent with the family way more valuable. So what if I'm getting even less sleep as I stress over proposals that need to be written, parties that need to be planned for clients, and whether or not this breastfeeding thing is actually going to work out. Thankfully, the least of my concerns is what to wear to my job. There's not much of a dress code so I can dress like a school marm or a Target store model and it doesn't really matter.

Speaking of Target, my husband is considering buying stock in the company because I go there twice a week now and break the bank. It's an evil place. Most of my purchases are justified but they have that $1 section you walk right in to when you enter the store. Right there, the tab goes up about $12. Then there's those great t-shirts that have some flowery graphic on the front that I love. Oh, and baby always needs a new pair of shoes/socks/outfit/toy. Gotta grab a bag of those tiny Hershey candy bars that come in 5 flavors (I'm so over the candy corn). I usually try and get daddy something, too. Last time it was that universal remote thingie.

Took Willem to a birthday party yesterday for a girlfriend who turned two. There were lots of little families there like mine and I got to see Malcontent Mama (see link to the left) with her sweet fam in the flesh (damn cute kiddos!). Willem was not much of a team player because he had a string of bad naps earlier. He was rather indifferent to the event. Even the violent pinata bashing didn't phase him. I, on the other hand, got to talk trash and drink a beer with the rest of the moms.

Daddy is out on the road for a few days (all of you stalkers, baby snatchers, aliens, and psychopaths don't even consider coming to my house and mess with me...I have a HUGE gun). He played a show in Corpus and is now in OKC at a songwriting camp hosted by the brothers Hanson. Yep, those Mmmmbop boys. They're still around and doing quite well on the live music circuit. This is how daddy pays the bills. Write those songs, find 'em a home and let somebody else schelp them while we wait for the checks to roll in. He's paid his dues on the road. It's time now for him to enjoy the fam, write his musical, entertain his muse all from the comfort of his humble abode.

Saturday, January 07, 2006

Well Wownded

Hubby and I had date night last night and it was a wonderful, gluttonous affair. I secured a babysitter who I think is going to work out for the long haul.

(Willem seems to like her. He was asleep in the sitters arms when we got home with his cheek smashed against her boob and his hand resting on top of it. Daddy must be proud.).

For our date, we went to one of our favorite restaurants, an Italian number called Vespaio, where we know the owners and a bartender in particular. It's a crowded little place because the food is so damn good and the wait can be one to two hours. We were willing to stick it out but were quickly shunted to a cozy table by a window with comped prosecco in hand. Our waiter, we had heard, came from the only 5-star restaurant in the city, so I wanted to find out what he thought of working at Vespaio. He explained some differences and similarities, spoke of his formal training and such and, I, feeling the effects of the bubbly so dang easily piped up and said, "You're a well wownded waiter!" As I scanned the speech portion of my brain and mentally scolded it for making me sound like Elmer Fudd, I hoped that only I had heard such babble and pretended like nothing happened. Well, of course my husband didn't miss it and when the waiter left he looked at me and said, "Well wownded waiter?" We spent most of the evening talking like ol' Elmer and laughing ourselves stupid. For my foodie friends out there, we both ordered this insane dish of osso bucco stuffed inside thick crepes with large, buttery seared scallops on the perimeter of the plate. That actually followed some baked oysters and preceded an apple bread pudding. It was a grand evening and we managed to blow a week's worth of grocery budget in one sitting. "Hello, peanut butter and jelly."

This is Willem's first day at school. His t-shirt says "Less Talk, More Rock!" Oh yeah!

He loves the bath and I have a helluva time keeping him on that sponge thingie.

Thank you, Wendielu, for the egg onesie!

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

Date Night

So tonight was supposed to be our first date night sans baby but we couldn't get our poop together and since baby busted a serious nut this afternoon and I had to come home from work an hour early to make sure the nut wasn't completely lost, I wanted to monitor the situation and make sure he wasn't seriously ill or something (damn, that was a long sentence). So how did date night turn out? We ordered a pizza for dinner but when husband went to pick it up, he called to say that it had split in half (huh?) and they were baking another one. He was going to hang and enjoy his free beer. The rushed pie ended up being gloopey. Hubby is now watching the stupid Texas football game at his brother's house so I'm here alone with baby. Later he's going to a new bar, a place WE were supposed to go together but when he told me he had invited his knucklehead friends, the same group we see ALL THE TIME, I was peeved. Dang it, this was supposed to be DATE NIGHT! Not "fraternize with the same guys we see all of the time" night. I can count on one hand how many times I've been alone with my husband in public in the last five months.

How can I reclaim my libido if we're hanging with a masculine group of middle-aged late bloomers on date night (*see image below)? Can't be done.

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

Today #2

Dearest Willem,

Today you are four months and three days old. You are really starting to turn into your own person as you navigate through the routines of each day. I am amazed at how much you change the patterns, the relationships, and the associations you have in every familiar activity. You are still enamoured with your mobile and coo to it as you reach unsuccessfully for the little animals hanging from the spindle. You get stone still when the mobile stops playing music and turning as if you too have run out of time. We gave you a crib a couple of weeks back and you love the spaciousness of it where you can view all of your toys and your goofy parents gazing down at you. Yesterday when I returned from my first day back at work, I found you on your tummy in the crib and when you saw me, you made great efforts to come my way, kicking your pudgy legs and waving your arms. If you had been in a pool of water, you would've swam to me with the agility of an Olympic swimmer. Late at night when I rescue you from hunger pangs and scary stuffed animal nightmares, you hug my neck so tight as we climb the stairs to the big bed, I sometimes can't breathe. You are a big time snuggler and force me over to daddy's side of the bed when you wiggle closer and closer to me. He likes that. Sometimes those same nights, you are ready to party instead of sleep and talk to yourself out loud as if rehearsing a speech. You are also quite the singer and will hold a note so long, I fear you may simply pass out. I still dream of the night that I get to completely miss it because I have somehow slept through but I'm close to accepting the fact that probably won't happen until you graduate from high school. I have had to put hair rubber bands and clips all over the house because you like to grip the mane around my face when I hold you resulting is a very gradual hand-plucked shag hair do. Before too long I may resemble Rod Stewart. You have gotten really good at holding your head up and turning it to see things you desperately want to see. In fact, I think you have a hidden swivel in your spinal cord or have a couple of hoot owl genes because you can turn that thing pretty dang far. It starts wobbling from the weight of your noggin' when you turn too far. You smile at everything (me, daddy, pretty girls, your stuffed blocks, the ceiling, air) and your deep dimples knock everyone out. Such an unexpected addition to your beautiful face. You continue to be such a joy and I cherish every brief moment I am with you. I will try my hardest to not squeeze the breath out of you when I hug you and only give you 150 kisses when I get home from work everyday. You are my darling son and you are loved more than you'll ever know.