Guard Dog Extraordinaire

Our house needs new windows. Like almost every window needs to be replaced. Aside from three of them in the living room, they are all the old school windows that have the rope-pulley-weight system to hold the window open...but the ropes are broken on all but one. So the other ones are either held open by humidity or by lodging something under the window frame.

Last night I was counting on humidity to hold one of the kitchen windows open. And it did. Until 2:28AM. At 2:28AM the sticky hold of humidity released its grasp and the window slammed shut, making an incredibly loud, sharp noise. Sweet little Aiden dog mistook the window slamming shut noise for a WE ARE UNDER ATTACK! noise. And the only defense to being under attack? Bark as loudly as possible and refuse to be calmed down for a solid 2&1/2 minutes. And not shockingly, as soon as we got her to stop barking like a maniac, Alex started crying. He could have been crying before that, but due to the noise from the insane crack-head hyena I call a dog, I could only hear him once she shut up. Luckily, he wasn't too upset and went back to sleep quickly. Not so for crack-head hyena dog. No sir. She remained on high alert for the rest of the night. So every time she heard a squirrel fart outside, we were woken up by barking. We have a lot of squirrels, and apparently they had refried beans for dinner.

I am tired.

Who knew sitting still was possible?

If Alex is awake, he is moving. Even when he is falling asleep some part of him is constantly moving. His fat little feet rubbing on my lap or his little sausage fingers playing with his blanket...moving moving moving.

All this movement has forced us to be creative when it comes to cutting his nails. So far, we have just done it when he is asleep. When he was littler, we would put a burp cloth over his face so we could turn on the light and not disturb his slumber...kinda like a poor man's sleep mask. But he won't let that happen anymore. If we try the burp cloth light shield, he immediately pulls it off of his face. He stays asleep, but will not leave the cloth over his face. So we have to use the flashlight function on Travis's phone. Yes, we sit in Alex's dark room, one of us holding him and the phone/flashlight and the other armed with a nail clipper. We are ninja nail cutting parents.

Last night when I was sitting with him before bed he was doing his normal foot gymnastics with his blanket and I realized he had a toe nail that was broken and was snagging the blanket. So I called Travis in with the nail clipper to take care of it. I told him the toenail situation and that it needed to be cut. He looked at me as if I had just told him he needed to solve the economic issues of the world and just said, "You want me to do this while he's awake?" Yes sir.

So he sat on the ottoman and grabbed Alex's incredibly ticklish foot and went in with the clipper. And Alex just sat there watching him. He didn't move at all. Well, except for his mouth. He had a lot of questions about what was going on. But other than all the questions we couldn't understand, he just sat still and let Travis go about cutting his toenails. It was like we were living in the Twilight Zone. But the second Travis was done, Alex commenced his nightly climbing of Mommy and all was right with the world.

Doggy!

Slowly but surely, I am starting to be able to understand what Alex is saying. He now says doggy. It sounds strikingly like ducky, but we don't have any pet ducks so I am going with doggy. This morning was pretty damn cute when we were leaving. He was waving and saying doggy as I was saying goodbye to her. Yes, I say goodbye to the dog. Everyday. She appreciates it.

He has Mama and Dada down very well. Now if I could just figure out what he is saying the other 94% of the time, we would be in business!

Meow

Since I have plenty of people around me that have older children, I am quite sure the feeling of not knowing what the hell I am doing is pretty much never ever going away. I wish I could figure out some way to not feel like that...or at least stop doing things that make me question why I am allowed to have a child...but as the grumpy old man said, "You can wish in one hand and crap in the other. See which fills up first." Given the extraordinary amount of time that has been devoted to poo in the last year of my life, I know that answer to that one.

Aaaaanyway, the most recent one isn't that horrid, but not that great either. Alex still has cradle cap. It doesn't stink like rotting Parmesan anymore, which is nice, but it is still there. Luckily he has a ton of thick hair so it is not noticeable unless you are behaving like a monkey and picking at your son's head. Not that I would ever do such a thing. I have been going along with the instructions I got from the doctor that all you can really do is gently scratch it when he is in the bath to get the dead skin to slough off. Which for the most part has been keeping it in check. Not getting rid of it, but not getting any worse.

About two nights ago, I was sitting with Alex right before bedtime and I noticed a spot on his head where his hair wasn't quite as fluffy as the rest. And that's when the "Wow. I am an awesome mom" feeling hit. The reason that one spot isn't so fluffy is because I apparently had neglected that spot and the hair was stuck to his head and getting covered with cradle cap. Like matted fur on a cat. Yeah, I pretty much rule at being a parent.

Sweet Validation

Fitting into old jeans is one of the most exhilarating feelings. It's like shopping, but getting stuff for free. It's old stuff that you have already worn, but it's the good stuff. The stuff you decided to keep. There were plenty of jeans that got donated when my fat ass couldn't be crammed into them any longer. But a select three were allowed to stay and take up room in storage. And I am so happy I didn't kick them out. The hyper-ventilation inducing workouts...So worth it.

If you couldn't tell, I am wearing a new pair of old jeans today. And it is good. I am more tired than a grizzly woken up half way through hibernation, but I am wearing new old jeans. Coffee can fix the tired. I think.

Not sure what the boy's problem was last night, but it was one of those nights that he wasn't gonna sleep unless he was being held. And then he took a solid 45 minutes fidgeting and moving and rearranging before he found a position comfy enough to sleep. Yay. He was oddly giggly this morning though so I guess I can forgive him.

Not fair

I had to wake Alex up this morning so I wouldn't be late to work. There are so many things wrong with that.

1. Never ever EVER wake a sleeping baby. Just don't do it. You won't like the outcome. Sure they may be all cute and cuddly at first, but then they fully wake up, go into a manic state and then crash but are too crabby to go to sleep.
2. He sleeps in the cutest position possible. I am pretty sure a lot of babies sleep this way, but that doesn't make it any less cute. He is face down, with his face to the side for breathing purposes, arms and knees tucked under him, butt so so high in the air. So basically, the fetal position, but face down. So cute. So uncomfortable looking.
3. All I wanted to do was crawl into his crib and sleep with him. Alas I am too large. And I had to go to stupid work.

The one good thing about this whole thing? Daycare had to deal with the fallout of me waking my kid up before he was ready.

Ahhh, The Ballwegs

Are you kidding me with this? If this pictures doesn't ellicit a huge smile and a billion awww's out of you, you have a heart of stone. That's all there is to it.

Erin Moore Photography...FANTASTIC