Spoiled

I am totally and completely and fantastically spoiled. My family was beyond generous for Christmas and my birthday. So far beyond generous it's like a star that you can't really tell if you are seeing a star or if your eyes are just making it up. They rule. My family rules..not the weird maybe-possibly-could-be-a-star stars.

And then last night, the girls bought me delicious coconut drinks and I came home to an absolutely absurd amount of king crab legs. All to be topped off with a tres leches cake...which Kari, Brent, Travis and I didn't even cut pieces out of. We just put the cake in the middle, each grabbed fork, and ate until we were literally sick. And had just one more bite for good measure.

It was glorious.

18 Months

The beast had his check-up and all is well. He passed the pre-screening questionnaire for early detection of autism, and he is apparently right on track for his developmental milestones. I guess we are doing something right after all. Although I do think most things so far are kinda gonna happen no matter what. I mean it's not like I had a ton to do with the fact that he can walk, or imitate people, or climb up on the couch, or draw a line with a crayon.

Knowing that I can't control a lot of things didn't stop me from a full-on break down yesterday. The sleep strike this kid is on is making me nutty. Partially because him not sleeping means me not sleeping. Partially because it is frustrating and sad to listen to your sad little baby screaming like baboon on crack. And partially because the sleep strike is ONLY at home. He gets himself ready for nap time at daycare...at home? Not so much.

Yesterday, after waking up three times throughout the night and screaming for over an hour at one point, he was having nothing of nap time. Not. Having. It. So for just under an hour I tried to be patient. Which disintegrated into ignoring, yelling, possible breaking of my fingertip, and getting all sorts of frustrated. And then I finally just gave up and went in there, cried a lot and rubbed his back until he fell asleep. And then cried some more. And then called Kari and made her remind me that having a kid is really hard and I am not a total failure of a human being because I can't get my evil spawn to sleep. And then I whined about my finger.

So yeah, there's that.

Tip toe through the tulips!

Alex will be 18 months old tomorrow. I know I have said it before, but I can't believe how much more fun he is now. I mean the tantrums are something special to behold, but those aside, this kid is hilarious.

He has his 18 month check-up tomorrow. Am I punctual or what?! I am interested to see how it goes. Now that he is more aware, he is not nearly as happy at the doctor's office. Now he realizes it is a bunch of strangers poking around on him and he does not like it one bit.

Other than seeing how he does, I have one thing I would like to ask his doctor about. He has started walking on his tip toes quite a bit. It mostly happens when he is looking for something that he seems to think might be on a tabletop and he will need to stretch to see it. But he doesn't just stand on his tip toes while peering onto the table. He walks over to the table, around the table, away from the table, to the living room and on throughout the house...on his tip toes.

My dear niece Abby is a tip toe walker as well. She is starting to not do it quite so much, but it has taken about 8 years for her feet to be completely on the ground. Her doctor didn't have an explanation, nor seemed too concerned, so I am interested in what Alex's doc has to say. But if it means he will turn out like Abby, I am a-ok with that. How could I not be happy for him to take after a girl who just yesterday was spinning in circles trying to look at her butt to see if she had a tail?! That's the kind of entertainment I am expecting out of this kid.

Merry Christmas to me!

My goal for Christmas was to be at -25lbs. My weekend adventure to Dubuque with one Miss Melanie did not put me aaaaaanywhere closer to that goal. Funny how eating and drinking like you don't have a care in the world, or an almost 33-year-old-post-baby metabolism, can do that. Goals schmoals! Pass the pizza!

Alas, it has been reached! 25lbs gone! If I had any skillz, I would have videoed and posted my celebration dance this morning. But nobody needs to see that. I am pretty sure Travis and Alex are now scarred for life. But I don't care. I have worked really hard for this and I am super excited. I can feel my hip bones again! It's the little things...

Hopin' for 3

The past two nights have been nightmare-free. And it has been glorious. I seriously do not understand how I possibly managed to keep myself together when he was so tiny and waking up multiple times a night and then I had to go to work. The past two nights have once again reminded me how much I truly love sleep. The other nice thing is that Alex is slowly getting over his new found fear of going to sleep. Since the nightmares started last week, he has been fighting nap and bed time more and more each day. Like freaking out, yelling No! No! Nooooooo! any time he thinks it might be time to sleep. Not good.

Anywho, when the nightmares started, I did what every responsible parent does. I Googled it. Along with a lot of people writing about their experiences, there were some advice articles...some even written by real scientists! One of the things I read is that doctors think watching tv within a short time before going to bed can contribute to nightmares. Apparently being all overstimulated by cartoon characters flying and zooming and zapping can be a bit much for little brains to sort out while they sleep, so then the nightmares happen. Weird right?

We don't have the tv on constantly, but we also haven't been leaving it exclusively off. If the armoire doors are open and Alex turns the tv on, we haven't been rushing to turn it off, but we also haven't been encouraging him to sit down and stare into the black hole that is Nickelodeon. But given what Google had to say, I figured it was worth a shot to make sure the tv didn't come on at all at night.

The last two nights, the tv has stayed dormant from the time we get home 'til the beast is asleep. And the last two nights, he has slept like a rock. I am not saying I am sold on the tv being the cause of the nightmares, but if you think I am not going to ride this one into the dirt, you are sorely mistaken.

Cracks himself up

Alex is finding himself absolutely hilarious lately. He is not shy about showing it either. He will say or do something he finds incredibly funny and follow it with one of two things...Throw his head back in laughter...or he bends over at the waist, laughing and slapping his knee. I kid you not. He slaps his knee and then stands back up straight while drawing in a breath like he hasn't tasted fresh air for a decade.

I am slightly concerned about the hubris in this child...but I have to admit he is damn funny.

Yes!

I got my first "Have you lost a lot of weight?" from someone I hadn't seen in a while today. And believe me you...it was fan-fucking-tastic. I almost feel bad for swearing at Jillian last night. Almost.

Oooohkaaaaay...

We think Alex is having nightmares. Which is very odd to me. I mean I get that he has the ability to be scared, I guess I just didn't think about his little brain transforming that into nightmares. We will just add this to the overflowing volcano of stuff I didn't/don't know about kids.

The past three nights, about 45 mins after he goes down, Alex starts crying and screaming. Last night the crying was accompanied by his little legs kicking while his head was in the corner of his crib. So his little head was smacking into the crib, and in turn smacking the crib into the wall, over and over. Travis went in when we could hear the crib hitting the wall and tried to soothe him. Alex didn't wake up at all. But with a little back rubbing and singing, he calmed down and just cuddled up with his blanket all peaceful. He didn't even open his eyes once. Weird.

Now, can you guess how horrible I feel for letting him cry it out on Tuesday night? Yeah. Sweet.

Niiiice.

Last night was a scene of pure class at the Julius house.

It started with me wearing a pair of jeans I refuse to throw away. I should throw them away as they have no button and have to be held up by my belt. The belt with which I am currently between notches. So if I have it on the one notch, it is loose enough that it doesn't quite hold my pants up. My other option is to have it on the notch that is so tight it causes muffin top that makes Roseanne look like a slender lady. I like the jeans. They are one of a few pair that fit me right now and I don't feel like spending money on new jeans. Mostly because that would require me to try on jeans, and that is a demoralizing process second only to swimsuit season. I obviously cannot get myself to be reasonable and throw them away.

The jeans got better though. It was bath night last night. Alex was covered in his dinner so into the bathroom we went. Now, as of late, he has pretty much only been pooping during the mid-day hours. Which is totally sweet five days a week, because I am here at my computer and he is running around like a maniac at daycare. No poop for me! Because of this schedule, the pre-bath routine involves me sitting on the edge of the tub, getting him undressed, and taking off his diaper before plopping him in the tub. Last night the pooing schedule was slightly off...just enough that he had, unknowingly to me, pooped. So, I took his diaper off like normal. But there was poo there. And on him. And then on the floor. And in the confusion of the moment he sat down on my lap and got poo on my jeans.

They are in the laundry basket. Button or not, poo is not winning my denim battle.

Round and round we go

Alex was sick last week. He had a nasty, boogery, congested chest, coughy cold. The kind where he would wake up wheezing in the middle of the night and we would be off to the bathroom to run a hot shower and steam the place up. And then we would cuddle. And sometimes sleep on the couch together.

So get this! He totally got used to getting up a bunch of times per night and having me snuggle with him. And now, even though he isn't all boogery and stuff, he still wakes up and wants me to come down to his room and snuggle him...like two to three times a night. Weird, right?!

Last night marked the zillioninth time "cry it out, sucka!" was instituted in our house. He put up a valiant effort. To the tune of whimpering/screaming/crying for a solid 40 minutes. Fun fun for everyone!

I had to laugh a little though because, believe it or not, this was the first time Travis was home and awake for the whole thing. He has heard other fits, but not one that went on that long. Not shockingly, he didn't like the experience. At one point, when Alex was wailing "Mamamamamama," Trav looked at me with this super sad expression and asked how I can possibly deal with that. Well, dude...it breaks my heart. But getting up three times a night breaks my brain.

She's a seer

Melanie was in town this weekend. Alex really liked her Chuck's. He also really liked having Melanie here. I think the ball hut got more use this past weekend than it has since we brought it home.

A long time ago, before Travis and I were even dating, Melanie decided he and I needed to have kids because she was positive they would be beyond cute. I think she's clairvoyant.

It is 12 days until Christmas. I have a total of 3 presents purchased. Good talk.

What a difference 17 months makes...

Mariah came across this picture.

In related news, I will be getting nothing done the rest of the day as I will be busy staring at this picture. The forehead wrinkles are killin' me.

Damn

He did it. He succeeded. He bit another kid. Right on the hand.

I now will fill out all forms with his new name: Alex T. Julius - Biter.

Where is that award?

Not only did I yell at my child when all he wanted was his nuk, but I also fed him rotten milk the other day. Once again, I rule.

I have just been refilling his sippy cup instead of dumping it out every day. I would dump it out and wash it every couple of days or when starting a new jug of milk. Obviously I thought this was sufficient. Obviously I was wrong.

The other night, I gave him his cup and he took a big swig. And then immediately started spitting it out while giving me a look like, "Why? Why would you give that to me?" At first I thought he was just being naughty...he thinks it's very funny to take a big gulp of milk and then slowly let it dribble out of his mouth. But then I noticed the milk was kinda sticking/crusting to the side of the cup. So I took the lid off and smelled it. Yeah. Totally sour. So I dumped it out. And that is when I reached the pinnacle of striving to attain my Mother of the Year award. When I dumped it out, a clump came out. The milk was so sour it had coagulated. Niiiiice.

Once again...I rule.

Last night marked the most impressive temper tantrum yet.

It started with a 10 minute freak out fest in the car when we left daycare. Apparently me buckling him into his car seat was the meanest and most intolerable thing I could have possibly done. But that was just a teaser for what he had in store for me. A tantrum appetizer if you will.

He was not pleased we were not staying outside when we got home. Outside in the freezing 10degree weather. The screaming started as soon as I closed the door with us on the inside. And then I tried to take off his jacket. That threw the tantrum into overdrive and the screaming was paired up with rolling around on the floor...with some intermittent kicking thrown in for good measure. And that lovely little mess went on for about 35 minutes, traversing the distance of the kitchen to the living room and back again.

I tried to calm him down a couple of times. I put him in a time out a couple of times. I laughed at him a couple of times. Nothin'. He kept up with the screaming and flopping like a trout on a boat deck. At about the 30 minute mark, he wanted to keep throwing his fit, but he wanted to be touching me while doing so. This was accomplished by crawling over to me while screaming and then rolling around between my feet. Finally I was able to hold him long enough for him to point to his room where we retrieved his nuk and blanket. The shoes and jacket came off and all was right in the world...

Until I wouldn't let him play with the printer. The screaming-rolling-kicking tantrum was once again engaged. I managed to wrestle him into some pajamas, which he finds terribly funny so the tantrum subsided, and we sat down to read some books. After the second book and half a cup of milk, he started lunging for the floor while writhing around and whining. And finally I had had enough. So I put him down while loudly saying, "Fine! You want to be on the floor?! Be on the floor!" And I forcefully put the book back on the shelf.

He reached down, grabbed his nuk, popped it in his mouth, looked up at me with big sad blue eyes, and said "Up?"

Yep. I'm an asshole.

It takes a village...

...to raise a child. Especially when the dryer at that child's house breaks. Lucky for us, one of the moms at daycare had recently found some of her son's old clothes and ask if I wanted them. Extra lucky for us, she remembered to bring them in the day Alex was wearing his last clean pair of pants.

Look out laundromat! The Julius's, about 192 dried Spaghetti O's and 28568 crushed Fruit Loops are comin' your way.

Adventures in drinking

During last night's feeding frenzy, Alex wasn't all that interested in his milk. But he had been running around like a mad man all day so I wanted to make sure he had enough to drink. So, I offered him some water in his favorite glass. Yes, it might a beer sampling glass, but he's only 17 months, he doesn't know that. All he knows is that it is a perfect sized glass for his chubby little hands and it doesn't have a sippy top on it so it is the coolest. And yes I am aware that this kid is probably going to love everything to do with liquid consumption based on his parents. Shut it.

After slamming all of the water I gave him, and spilling a copious amount down his shirt, he obviously was even less interested in his milk. So, I asked him if he wanted his milk in his special glass. He looked at me like I had just offered him a trip to the moon via a glitter breathing unicorn. And then smiled HUGE.

I took his glass over to the refrigeration and took the milk out. I looked back at him sitting at the table, and just about fell over. He was sitting straight in his chair, looking at me with a sideways glance and laughing. But the laugh was an "Hohohohoooooo. This is silly/naughty/I can't believe she is doing this" kind of a laugh.

I didn't even know he knew what that kind of a laugh meant. This kid kills me daily.

Chomp!

Guess what?!?! That's right...yet another thing has come about that I was not prepared for and have no idea how to fix. Alex is officially a Biter. Or at least striving to be a Biter. He has yet to succeed thanks to the daycare teachers, but he's trying. Awesome.

He is trying to bite other kids when he is angry. And apparently taking toys away from him and sitting in a rocking chair makes him angry. Bitingly angry. HA!

Lucky for us, the teachers at daycare are very supportive and reassuring and helpful and wonderful and everything sparkly and rainbow colored. They are not only keeping us informed about any biting attempts, but they are also actively working with us to solve the problem. Including printing a pamphlet of reasons and solutions for biting. Apparently this biting is a very common thing, I was just really hoping to avoid it. I guess the whole thing of lacking the ability to vocalize emotions is a bit of a bitch. And biting? Very clearly gets the point across.

Anywho, it looks like a lot of preventative action, positive reinforcement, and overly dramatic sad faces are in our future.