Mittens, a learned skill…

Ezra didn’t quite know what to make of the mittens I put over his chubby little fingers before we headed out for a short walk around the neighborhood this afternoon. After unsuccessfully trying to peel them off his hands, which went something like this: “The hell? Get this thing off of my grabbing thingy!” Goes to grab and pull the mitten off. “WHAT? There’s one on this grabbing thingy too! HOW IS A MAN SUPPOSED TO GRAB STUFF?! Huh… I can still knock shit over pretty effectively. Alright, we’re cool.”

So he gave up trying to peel them off and, confused with what to do with his hands, just sort of held them limply out in front of himself for the remainder of the walk:

I might have felt bad but this is the same child who, after I lovingly changed, read and snuggled him gently in his crib for his nap after a rough night of sleep, proceeded to meow for 45 minutes. That’s right. MEOW. As in:

Ezra: Mroooooooowwwwww… Mrrrrrroooooooooow… Meeeeeeeeooooooooowwww… MEEEOOOOOOWWWWWPPPPP

Me, sneaking into the room, laying him back down and covering him up: It’s nappy time, mister. Shhhhhh…

Ezra: Mrooowww! Meeeeooowwww!

Me: Go to sleep, Ezra.

Ezra: Meeowwwwp?

And on, and on and on. So yeah, the mittens brought about a small sense of justice because I’m a horrible human being. But we already knew that.

 

Read Full Post »

God, I'm an idiot.

Listen, I know we already all knew this but my idiot-game has upped itself to new heights. Last night I did something so colossally stupid, something I one hundred and fifty (thousand!} percent knew would destroy me but I did it anyway. I watched The Conjuring. Internet, do NOT watch this movie, it is goddamn terrifying. {Especially if you’re me.  If you’re not me and are a grown-up who learned somewhere along the way to separate fact from fiction then you’re probably fine.}

Over the years, Bill and I have talked a lot about what our own personal brand of ohshitImterrified fear is when it comes to the horror genre and I have to say we are on complete opposite sides of the spectrum. Bill’s number one supernatural fear is zombies and he gets pretty freaked out by a monster flick. {But seriously the man can sleep under any and all circumstances so while it might freak him out as he watches, he forgets about it completely somewhere around 10 minutes after it’s over.} And listen, I get it. When the makeup and special effects are done right, I can see that a zombie might be moderately scary, but jesus they just move soooo sloooow and a majority of the time they’re missing the correct limbs to, you know, catch you or grab you with and I actually find it fairly comical instead of disturbing when they are so horribly disfigured they’re barely recognizable as something that might have once been human. With The Walking Dead {which I like to refer to as The Walking Sexists but I’ll admit is killing it this season} and the subsequent influx of zombie flicks over the last 10 years, I don’t know, I feel sort of immune and don’t get super scared by them.

The only movie from the monster genre that has stayed with me and truly scared me to the core was the TV mini-series of Stephen King’s Silver Bullet. This probably has less to do with how frightening it actually is {I really don’t know how it holds up, I will never watch that sucker again} and more to do with the fact that I watched it when I was 7 years old. I was across the street at the 12 year old neighbor girl’s house. I think she was probably charged with “watching me” in a Mother’s Helper sort of way that afternoon and she took her job very seriously by making me Spaghettio’s and setting me up in her family room with a movie! Sounds nice, huh? Until she picked out Silver Bullet. I don’t know how strongly I can emphasize that this is NOT an appropriate movie for an 7 year old, especially one that has had a recurring nightmare from 4 years old on about a werewolf that terrorizes her neighborhood. I was completely warped from watching it, and more than 25 years later I can still picture the fog overlaying the ground and the people of the town being dragged under it and {presumably} ripped limb from limb off camera and ohmygod let’s not talk about this anymore.

Overall though, my fear is definitely more strongly rooted in the haunted house, possession type story lines so The Conjuring was probably the absolute dumbest movie I ever could have watched because not only is it based on a true story, it contains a haunted house and a demonic witch who possesses mothers who are then forced to do horrible things to their children. My fascination/fear of these movies started at 14 when I watched Amityville: The Possession. I’m sure I watched the original Amityville movie at some point but it didn’t terrify me as much as the sequel did and for years after I would wake up paralyzed with the fear that one of my possessed family members would enter my room with a shotgun and take us all out. Lovely thought, I know. To be clear none of my un-possessed family members would most likely ever do this but 3:15am doesn’t always lend itself to rational thinking.

My imagination obviously tends to be on the more active side but as I’ve grown into a real-live adult, my fearful reaction to most scary movies has definitely dulled. After all, a sugared-up toddler who won’t nap or a colicky baby that wakes up 10 times a night are WAY WAY WAY more frightening than any ghost or demon could ever be. I’ve also gotten pretty good at being able to turn off my imagination and/or thoughts before they spiral out of control and go from “wow, that was a pretty messed up FICTIONAL movie” to waking up in the middle of the night paralyzed with terror, absolutely SURE there is a possessed witch hovering six inches above my face as I’m completely paralyzed in my bed in the black room. Until last night that is!

The whole movie I was a mess. Bill kept saying “how bout we turn it off, dummy” when for the 6th time I balled myself in the corner of the couch with my hands literally covering my eyes like a 3 year old. “No! Then I won’t know how they got rid of her! It will be worse!” After I made him pause it 2-3 times so I could remind myself to blink and breath, he had lost pretty much all patience with me but we made it to the end. And *spoiler alert* at least it didn’t pull one of those dick moves that the horror genre is so fond of that let you believe they resolved whatever horrible occurence had happened and then the final scene is all HA! Just kidding! EVERYONE’S STILL SCREWED. It was a relatively happy ending, if you don’t account for all the hundreds of thousands of dollars in therapy those characters will have to pay to get over that awfulness.

I really should just not be allowed to watch this crap. And for years I stayed away from it because I knew I couldn’t handle it. I think it was after The Ring came out and I didn’t sleep barely at all for a week straight that I quit horror all together for a few years but after a while I dipped back in and then October rolls around and I get caught up in Jezebel’s annual true scary story post which inevitably leads me to scroll through Rotten Tomatoes to see what the year had to offer in scary movies. I think this one cured me of any need to watch something this horrifying… at least until next year.

These are my more recent I Am Never Watching This Shit Again movies: Silent Hill, Evil Dead {remake, I’ve never seen the original} and Sinister. But honestly, The Conjuring takes the flippin’ cake. A big part of this might be because I’m a little OCD about time, so much so, that I can’t wear a watch because I check it obsessively so movies where something bad happens at a specific time each night, really mess with me on a whole different level. I spent all night so tense, barely sleeping and afraid to look at my clock. When I did nod off Bill said I kept jerking and gasping in my sleep. I am a total mess today and am already scared to go to bed tonight and it’s only 1pm. So yeah. Dumb. So, so dumb.

{When I’m ready to jump back in to scary movies, because let’s face it, I just don’t learn, I’ll watch my go-to pallet cleanser, Cabin in the Woods, which is pretty much the best horror/anti-horror/comedy movie ever made, God Bless you, Joss Whedon.}

Read Full Post »

Ten Month Turkey

The last month of Ezra was super fun but also had many, many challenges. Ezra made huge strides mobility and communication-wise and is really starting to carve out a niche in our little family of five. Since it’s the last weekend before school starts I’m just gonna break this month out in list form~ here’s the quick and dirty…

* Naps were rough this month. The nine month sleep regression thankfully left his night-time sleep mostly intact but there were two weeks in the middle of the month where Ezra out-right refused his afternoon nap and hooooobaby you are NOT ready to go down to one nap yet. The song and dance routine to get him down was a nightmare and then after finally getting him to sleep he’d wake up screaming the minute I’d lay him down. I knowknowknow we needed to start a sleep-training method but with the crazy, always changing schedules of the older two there was no way to make it work and keep my sanity. Thankfully the regression phased out and he went back to happily taking two naps but I know once we get a normal schedule and routine in September we have to start the process of letting him fall asleep on his own.

* So. Many. Teeth. You are up to eight now, the four front on top and the four front on bottom and please, baby, let’s take a break from that shit, shall we? I’m so super tired of the two days of crankiness/clingyness/misery before the tooth cuts and I know the molars and eye teeth are going to be so much worse. {UGH why do babies even HAVE teeth.} Also I am over the biting. You thankfully are wise enough never to bite mom during nursing sessions but you started a bad habit of snuggling into our shoulders for a hug and then taking a chunk out if them. OUCH.

* This month you learned to give the most disgusting, wet, drool-infused kisses and while, yes, they are absolutely gross, they are also the sweetest things ever.

* This leads me to the words you understand which among them includes:

~ Kiss. Mmmm slobbery baby love.

~ Ezra. DUH.

~ No. In which you stop whatever offense you are currently committing, look at me with an inquisitive stare before busting out an angelic grin after which you go ahead and proceed with whatever naughty mischief you are up to, undeterred.

~ Uh-Ah. Similar to “no” except add that you mimic {some might say MOCK} the sound in perfect inflection as you continue on your merry way of dismantling the cupboards/unraveling toilet paper/ attempt to climb the bookshelf/etc with a happy string of “Uh-Ah, Uh-Ah, Uh-Ah!!!”.

~ Dada. As in “Ezra! Where’s daddy?” Spins around, looking wildly before finding dad, once his eyes are fixed on Bill he gives a big grin before shouting “Dada!” {DIS-similarly: “Ezra! Where’s mama?” Stares blankly at the fan/ceiling/wall.}

~Drop. We are really counting this as his first word since he understands it and repeats it in the right context even though it’s not super clear. Whenever we play ball with Luna we don’t even have to say drop anymore because Ezra does it for us, with great enthusiasm.

~ Stop. He repeats this one a lot too, but it sounds very similar to “drop”.

~ Kitty, puppy/dog, Luna.

~ Come here.

~ Milk.

* Getting used to a baby that is super mobile has had its challenges. Since the other two were older and understood more by the time they could fly around on all fours {not to mention they were MUCH less adventurous than Ezra}, my baby proofing was pretty lax. It really consisted of a few cabinet locks, moving all dangerous materials up high, some outlet covers and gating the stairs for a couple of months before they could figure out how to navigate down them backwards. With Ezra I’m thinking of just duct-taping my entire house in place because he is into EVERYTHAAAAANNNNNNG. He’s broken out of baby jail a handful of times and made it halfway up the stairs before we realized. He also learned how to open the screen door so when we did the inevitable “oh shit, where’s the baby” roll-call one morning we found him out on the deck greeting the neighborhood with his happy shrieks. I am not a super religious person but LORD IN HEAVEN, HELP ME.

* Learned to play So Big this month which has resulted in all kids of adorableness. Especially because he is compelled to do it so he can be in the middle of something and if I call out “How big is Ezra?” he has no choice but to stop what he is doing and throw his hands above his head. This has come in handy when he’s almost made it to the dog dishes.

* Is eating a ton. In addition to four nursing sessions/day, three big servings of smooshy stuff, and puffs/melts/baby biscuits, we’ve made the big foray into table foods this month and he will eat everything, all of it, anytime and then screech for more.

And I think that’s a wrap on Month 10! Ezra was born right before Halloween but as far as nick-names go, he has proved to be much more of a Turkey than a Pumpkin. Turkey because he is mischievous, independent, screechy and absolutely, unequivically the most delicious thing ever created. We love you Big Turkey Baby.

 

Read Full Post »

Halfway to One

This monthly blah-blah is brought to you by Sleep Deprivation and WAAAAHHHH Pick Me Up/No Put Me Down so it will most likely lack any sort of cohesiveness and be short and sweet. Or not. {It is ME, after all.}

The first two and a half weeks of this month were spectacular for our mini-budders. Five months is one of my very favorite ages as it’s the perfect combination of smooshy adorableness and active {but not too active} baby exploits. And since my baby is already the cutest baby, like, EVER {truth} it was an especially fun time. I actually had to force myself to put him down or let him play independently so I could do things like sleep, feed my other children, etc. Then he started to get a little cranky two weeks ago aaaaaaaand BAM. Icky cold. Sleep and contentedness went out the window and were replaced by waking up 5-7 times a night and general whininess at being alive. I took him in for his 6 month check-up on Friday, thinking the doctor would check his ears, see an infection and we’d get something to help ease his discomfort but his ears were clear~ it’s just a gunky cold, so instead he was the proud recipient of three vaccinations which has NOT helped his mood any letmejusttellyou. His cold/cough seem much better this week, but after an absolutely AWFUL night last night I think some form of sleep training is in our near future.

So to hit all the major baby data points…

Sleep: SUUUUUUUCCCKKKS. {I think I covered this one already but just in case you weren’t super clear…} Naps are still going okay with 1.5-2 hours in the morning and 1-1.5 hours in the afternoon but it’s getting increasingly hard to get him down. Before I was swaddling him and gently rocking him for 5 or so minutes and sometimes he would be asleep and sometimes he wouldn’t but he’d snuggle in and nap either way. Now it’s taking 10-15 minutes of vigorous rocking and if he’s not all the way asleep when I lay him down he pops his eyes open and that’s it, there is almost no chance of him falling asleep on his own. He is too tall and strong for our swaddling blankets so we have had to phase them out in the last couple of weeks which also hasn’t helped sleeping matters because OMFG LOOK I HAVE HANDS!!!!! We are hoping some form of sleep training will help but until the last dance competition is over this weekend I just don’t have it in me to jump into that.

Eating: With both Rowan and Keaton the doctor encouraged us to start solids at 4 months. This time I listened to the hippies and didn’t start until 5.5 months and let me tell you, these hippies are onto something. Do you know how much easier it is to feed a nearly six month old than a 4 month old? A huge difference. WORLDS. The frustration of wasting food and the breast milk you mix it with as your child lets it just fall out of their mouth instead of swallowing was completely skipped this time. Ezra could sit up in his new highchair and within a feeding or two figured out how to take spoonfuls and swallow with much less of a mess. So far avocados are the only thing he’s completely rejected {Bill would be 90% sure Ezra could not possibly be his son due to this if not for the fact that everyone we meet says WHOA HOLYSHIT do YOU look like dad}. His favorites are bananas and apples. I gave him carrots for the first time yesterday which he liked but then woke up with a rash on his cheeks this morning so I don’t know if that’s related or not… we’ll see as Smooshy Stuff Taste Test Month continues.

Moving: This boy is a rolling machine. Historically my babies have been on the late side of normal for gross motor so I thought I had another 2 months before I had to worry about baby proofing but Ezra has proved much more active. We’ve already taken down his floor gym as he just rolls off of it or gets tangled. If I lay him on a blanket then get distracted by another of my lovely offspring for a minute, when I look back he’s under the coffee table or made his way to the patio door for a better view. He’s able to sit up assisted and has started to hold himself up on his hands for a few seconds before face-planting. He loves standing in his exersaucer and watching his big brother and sister.

Growth:

Weight: 17lb 3oz, 44%

height: 27 inches, 65%

head: 17inches, 46%

Ezra had another big growth-spurt in height considering at 2 months he was only in the 10% and is now in the 65th percentile. This has been the fattest month for all my babies, having spent the last 6 months building up their fat stores while being completely immobile. Ezra is the chubbiest of the three, though only a few ounces bigger than Keaton was at 6 months {and to be fair he’s also a full inch taller}. Rowan never broke the 10th percent for anything but was still at her own personal chubbiest at this age. It’ll be fun to see if Ezra planes out like his brother and sister did, both of whom were only around 20 pounds at one year and stayed that way for what seemed like EVER. In the meantime, this has resulted in much nomming of Big Fat Baby tummy and thighs and cheeks and oh just about any part of him I can get a hold of. It’s the best.

Loves: His favorite toys are his LaMaze Dragonfly, Pirate Piggens, Taggie Elephant and any loud rattle you shake at him.  He likes the bjorn but only if Bill is wearing him. He’ll tolerate the Ergo but only for short periods, which I hope will change because it’s my carrier of choice~ I am really hoping he’ll warm up to it so we can hit the trails this summer.

Honestly? I know he loves me {or my hooters, whatever} but this boy is all about daddy and his big brother and sister and ferchristssake even Fawkes and Luna. His big eyes follow his dad and siblings as they go about their evening business and he loves Saturday mornings when he gets to spend extra time with dad {Mama’s sleeping in. Don’t judge.}. During feedings the dog and the cat settle in, with Fawkes on the bed near the rocking chair and Luna at my feet. Every so often Ezra will break away from me, flail about in my arms until he has a good view of an animal and give them a sweet, toothless grin, which is sometimes rewarded with a wet puppy kiss.

Ezra, you watch everything, you take it all in. I can see you inching further and further away, even while you are seated right there on my lap, pulling yourself toward the activity and watching, delighted, with a curious gaze. You are so ready to jump in and be a part of all of us, all of this, all of the action, and all I can do is gently gather you in to me, placing my cheek on your blonde fluff and say, soon, Sir. You’ll be a part of it all before we know it but for now you’re stuck snuggled in my arms. Right where I want you.

Read Full Post »

Internet, I would like you to meet…

The bestest, most smartest, handsomest, funniest, all-around-great-guy Baby named Ezra.

It’s true. I’m pretty amazing. Also: MY EYELASHES. They will take over the world one day.

What did my genius of a baby do to deserve the highest honor of Best Baby, Like, Ever? He slept through the night two nights in a row, people. And not some lame ass sleep like midnight to 5:30 because you assholes out there claiming that is sleeping through the night are NOT FOOLING ANYONE with that shit HoooooooNoooooo. My advanced super-smart-genius-baby slept from 8:30 PM-at-night-o’clock to 7 AM-in-the-morning-o’clock.

Whoooaaaaa…

We’ve been rocking a pretty good night routine all month. At the end of December Ezra was going down around 9pm, and eating at around midnight and 4am, with a wake-up time around 7:30ish. Then by the end of the first week in January he started sleeping through the midnight feeding so we just went with it and he was getting up anywhere between 3:30 and 4:30 to eat, once in a while he’d make it to 5 but that just messed up our morning routine because the 8 o’clock hour is go-time for the other two so I really had to try to get him up at four or wait until seven otherwise the mornings would be a nightmare. We figured we were in for at least another 2-3 months of night feedings and we still might be, but considering I haven’t slept soundly through the night since before I got pregnant? Two nights of uninterrupted sleep is HUGE and I will take it, thankyouverymuch.

That IS amazeballs. I AM AMAZEBALLS!

Even if it is short-lived, he timed this perfect as I was smote with an icky cold that knocked me down for a few days, so good baby is good. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to start researching Ivy league schools for my clearly advanced infant, or, I don’t know, college is sort of expensive and not really necessary when you’re already the smartest so maybe I’ll just go ahead and have him apply for that Rocket Science internship I’ve had my eye on.

Read Full Post »

I've got nothing…

Seriously. Not one thing of substance. Bill and I talked about how we were operating with such choppy, low amounts of sleep and we agreed that we were okay as long as we didn’t acknowledge how much sleep we’ve lost the last 5 weeks~ equating it with the whole Don’t Look Down mentality. Bill confessed he had started to look down over a week ago and Internet? I’m looking down right now and it is not a pretty sight.

So here, have some Adorable Baby while I stare off at the wall trying to remember how to spell my own name…

Good thing these cheeks make it all worth it, huh?

Read Full Post »

Turns out I never worry about the right things.

So you know when, against all good parenting sense, we were really smart and let the kids watch Lord of the Rings? And I was so worried about the disfigured Orcs and bloody battles giving them horrific nightmares?

Well, Rowan had a terrible nightmare last night. I heard her sobs over the monitor around midnight and with a sinking feeling that this was all coming back to bite me in the ass, I ran up to her. Normally once she sees that I’ve come in the room she calms right down, but not this time. She climbed down the ladder and flung herself into my lap, still shaking with sobs of the remnants of whatever invaded her mind.

I always ask what her bad dream was about so we can talk it over and I can try to make her feel better before tucking her back in but I was a little hesitant as I was sure she was going to recount Gandalf being engulfed by a fiery flaming monster or Gollum biting off Frodo’s finger and that was going to make me look really, really bad, Internet.

But I made this Orc-filled bed so I sucked in a breath and said, “What was your bad dream about?”

And with a still trembling voice she replied, “A mean strawberry.”

“Oh, sweetie, mama’s so sorry she let you watch that mov-…Whaaa…What?”

” A mean, giant strawberry that was trying to smoosh me.”

“A …strawberry?”

“That was trying to smoosh me. It was really big.”

“Smoosh you into jelly?”

A smile crept across her face, “Yep. Rowan Jelly.”

“That is a bad dream. You’re pretty sweet but I wouldn’t want to eat you on toast.”

After she was done giggling, we sang Castle on a Cloud as we rocked in the glow of the nightlight and then I said it was time to snug back into bed.

Before climbing back up she said, “I don’t think I’m going to color in my Strawberry Shortcake coloring book for a little while. I colored so many pictures yesterday that it gave me bad dreams.”

Freaking Strawberry Shortcake, you guys. And not even a show with the sinister Purple Pie Man…a COLORING BOOK. Filled with smiling, glee-filled fruit people. I have to be perfectly honest. I… just…I just don’t get this parenting thing sometimes.

Read Full Post »

Bright and Early

So daylight saving time ended, which was…fun. I’m a big huge fan of that one extra hour of sleep for that one night, but the whole waking up to the blaring sun and it getting dark around 5pm kind of blows at first. I actually can’t complain too much about the time switcheroo. Save that first year of each kid’s life when one minute of change in a schedule could be catastrophic, let alone adding or subtracting an entire hour from the delicate balance of infancy, our kids have been really pretty easy to dupe into sticking with their regular schedule.

At the risk of getting punched by my sleep-deprived friends, since Keaton hit about 15 months we have had it VERY easy in the sleep department but I promise this happened mostly by accident and not by our own careful devising. Rowan was really the happiest little baby on planet earth. I’d have to consult the baby book to be sure {and upstairs is too far away from my couch and my warm coffee} but I’m pretty sure that by five-ish months she was sleeping through the night, and even when she was still getting up for night feedings before that, for the most part she was the dream-baby you could shove a boob or a bottle into for 20 minutes, swaddle her up and lay her back down in her crib for the rest of the night. And she would wake up smiley and happy to entertain herself with the sound of her own magnificent coos for as long as it took me to get up, get dressed and get ready to feed her.

Once she was close to a year old we would put board books and a few toys at the bottom end of her crib and when she woke up she was happy to play, getting put out when I’d come in to change her diaper. My chest still gets that warm feeling of happiness rushing in when I think of her little voice coming through the monitor, so thrilled with itself at all the different sounds it could chime. I think this contentedness she had to just play independently is what set us on such a great path as far as mornings go but when she moved to a toddler bed to make room for that usurping baby brother when she was 24 months, we thought that would change. Or more accurately, we thought we had screwed ourselves.

It was sort of a tricky thing because we live in a town home where the two bedrooms are on different levels so for safety reasons, fearing our tiny two-year-old would come up to get us, miss a step in the dark and go careening down the stairs, we told her to just call for us and we’d hear her over the monitor and come to her. We did not predict how awesome this would end up being for us until we started hearing horror stories from other parents about being bombarded by a tiny little person demanding juice and Cheerios at 5:30 in the morning.  Rowan was so used to waking up and playing quietly in a contained space that she happily kept it up. She’d wake up, turn on the aquarium soother we’d rigged to her bed and hum, sing and talk to herself and her stuffed animals until we came into get her.

This bliss all ended three short months later because if you remember, Keaton’s babyhood was slightly different. There was no sleeping in because there was no sleeping PERIOD for the first 8 months. Keaton never greeted the new day with happiness or smiles, instead opting for heightened indignation {read: SCREAMINESS} that he had been awake 4-6 seconds without having his personal milk-maid and diaper-changer attend to him. It got better after we sleep trained at 8 months but we shared a room with him until he was 17 months so there really was no point in teaching him to play quietly as there was NO ESCAPING HIM.

When Bill and I decided to bunk the kids together in the master bedroom in the spring of 2009, we knew it could go one of two ways for our One True Desire of sleeping in past 7am on the weekends: terrible or more terribler. Keaton had long since given up breastfeeding, and his screaminess had finally dwindled away but he was not the independent being his sister was. He was slightly more clingy with me. {And here slightly means OMFG CAN I PLEASE JUST PEE ONCE WITH THE DOOR SHUT, SON?} But lo and behold after a short adjustment period of 6am giggle-fests, Keaton took his cues from his older and {in this case} very wise sister and began sleeping in later and later. Then when he got his big boy bed, he followed Rowan’s lead again and besides some normal kid shenanigans, they both stay in the room and {for the most part} even in their respective beds until I come in for them.

These days the kids go down just before 8pm every night and wake up just before 8am during the week. The weekends are a mixed bag as far as betimes go, they usually stay up until close to nine but then will sleep to close to nine the next morning. We are NOT a family of early-risers, if I haven’t made that abundantly clear yet, so with preschool and Kindergarten not starting until 9:00 and 9:15am respectively, we’ve carved out a pretty sweet deal.

Until this morning that it is, when 6:30 rolled around and I was awakened by a chorus of giggles and thumpity-thumps, indicating the time change has had its intended effect of screwing up everyone’s sleep cycles for the next two weeks. After mildly panicking, I remembered that an early wake up time for an almost 4 and 6-year-old isn’t nearly the death sentence it was with a 1 and 3-year-old. I walked into their room fully intending to tell them to goooooo baaaaack toooooo sleeeeeeep, but when they peaked their smiling faces out from under the covers I could not help but cave.

So they got themselves ready {which just started happening and they think is the coolest thing shhhhhh suckers} and I delivered room service for breakfast which they enjoyed while I took a shower. It was a unrushed, laid back morning and although I am sort of partial to their normal 7:45 wake-up time, this bright and early business might not just be for the birds after all.

Read Full Post »

Um…so…

Hi. Sorry about that sort-of-but-not-really intentional extended blogging silence. Part of it was due to the gearing up to and going on of our annual cabin vacation and part of it was due to the Extreme Cabin Vacation Hangover and subsequent onset of a very ugly case of Beach Withdrawal, suffered by at least 3 out of the 4 members of my family.

I have now resigned myself to the fact that we are back home and that our reality, while more mundane and considerably less gin-soaked than I would like, is not so terribly bad after all, as it contains a clean shower and a bed that was not hand crafted by the ghost of Hitler in the reddest, hottest fires of Hades*.

{*Okay, that may be an exaggeration. The bed we slept in was actually pretty comfortable but for the fact that it was two small  but very annoying inches too short for me. At 5’5” {when I strain my neck high enough}, I am not a tall woman and think it ridiculous that a double bed does not adequately contain my slumbering person. Also, on the third night I found a teeny, tiny spider crawling up my leg when I got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night which may have largely shaped how I felt about the bed. No decent bed would house miniature spiders, amirite? Of course I am. It also didn’t help that on the first night Rowan had a hard time being away from home and to ease her fear I selflessly offered her my own pillow, which always accompanies me on overnights.  I was pretty confident she would rather sleep on her unicorn pillow pet so I was fairly sure she wouldn’t accept the offer, but no, her greedy little paws wrapped themselves around it and my own head did not touch it again for 8 looooong nights.

Me, unabashedly optimistic on the second night: “You’re probably ready to give mommy her pillow back, right?!”

Rowan, lips tightening from a relaxed grin into a taught, thin line, brow furrowing down, threatening to crush her eyelids out of existence, faint but unmistakable storm clouds, gathering about her small, bebraided head: “I think not.”

I didn’t ask again. And the pillow was not offered back up to me. }

{Wow, I really had no idea I actually felt this strongly about all this until this writing. I did know I hated that motherfucking tiny spider though. It has brought out my passion for the right to unarachnied sleeping arrangements. Stay tuned for the creation of some sort of grassroots movement with it’s own facebook fan page regarding this.}

Anyway this whole post is actually not a post at all but instead a sort of a promise of a post. I have been busily sifting through the 500+ photos I took {Aside!: With my penchant for hyperbole I feel I really do need to clarify that this is not an exaggeration. The exact number was 548. I know. I have a problem- but I’m pretty sure I took even more last year, so progress? I think?}

Now because I’m not cruel, and certainly don’t want t0 keep any of you awake at night, wondering in unbridled, nervous glee about what ridiculous shirts Bill picked out for himself and Keaton, I will mercifully show you this picture, which I’m sure will be the fodder of many a therapy session for my second born in the coming years.

{For those of you new here, 2008 was Bass Attack {scroll down to the 9th picture}, 2009 was the year of the Wolf Pack, 2010 brought with it the Galloping Wild Stallions and this year…

The Majestic Eagle.

Frighteningly majestic, I know. Or maybe just frightening. With a heaping side of lame, but you know it’s the GOOD kind of lame. And there’s so much more to come, Internet. So very much more.

Read Full Post »

It seems pretty unoriginal to title this post "Bunk beds" but I can't think of anything else so I'm just going to keep typing until you guys give up on the title and just move on to the post. Did it work?

So have you all been waiting on the edge of your seat to see the finished product of Project: Bunk Beds? No? WHAT? Seriously, this is scintillating blog fodder people. I don’t know how much more exciting one blog can even get without completely imploding in on itself and creating some sort of Internetarian black hole .

One bed...

Two beds...and wait for it...

Behold! On top of one another. I just blew your mind right there, didn't I? It's a miracle of the universe! And science! Yes definitely don't forget the awe-inducing wonders of bunk bed science!

We searched the wide-scope of the Internet along with a number of furniture stores in our area and I have to tell you, finding a nice, simple gender-neutral bunk bed is kind of hard. There are a ton of cute sets geared toward girls or boys but not so much when you’re dealing with one of each. Our other struggle was that we wanted something on the small side. I know the beds look gigantic in the picture but they are actually the smallest you can get for two twin beds in a wood frame. Obviously we wanted small because I have a feeling neither of my children will break 40 pounds before their 12th birthdays and even with these I just can’t get over how impossibly small they look all snuggled up.

This set was at the last store we went to, we checked online to see if we could get it cheaper but it was already marked way down because of a President’s Day sale. {Screw the Constitution, I got a deal on a bunk bed! Thanks, Founding Fathers!} The beds were still pretty spendy for us but since they’re not traditional bunk beds and really a lofted bed and a completely separate twin that fits underneath, we knew we could keep using them after the kids get separate rooms down the line. I initially wanted dark wood but when all the other furniture in their room is white it just didn’t make sense.

When we ordered, the store said 2-3 weeks for delivery which was fine- I wanted to try to night-train Keaton first which did NOT happen because of the plague. Then we got a call 2 Mondays ago saying “Um, yeah. They’re probably not going to come in until early April”. We were sort of disappointed but they refunded us the delivery and set-up charges so no one here was crying. Then, 5 days after that call, the delivery people called and SURPRISE! They’re here! SO we set up the delivery date for this past Tuesday and they still refunded us the money. Thank you Slumberland!

The delivery and set-up went really well, although this happened:

And I was also a little scared that they would put it together all wrong to get back at me FOR ALL OF THE STAIRS. Do you know how many giant boxes bunk beds come in? A lot. There were 3 guys going up and down 4 sets of stairs for what seemed like eternity. I broke a sweat just watching them while I drank my coffee {for I am an asshole!}. Then they delegated one poor bastard to run all the empty boxes back down. He did NOT look good by the end. I offered him something to drink but in retrospect a shower would have been more appropriate at that point. Despite this they were professional and got the beds up in a little over an hour.

There were a couple of snafus that we have to get worked out. I wasn’t super clear on where I wanted them set up, which was centered between the wall and a bookcase. Instead they put them flush with the wall, right next to the window which, just, no. So Bill and I had a lot of fun moving them over about 18 inches. Internet? Bunk beds are motherfucking heavy. {The more you know~ *shooting rainbow star*} Also the Top bunk’s headboard came cracked and the bottom bed’s foot board has gouges in it- but they will be sending someone out to replace those in the next couple of weeks. Also those pretty pink drawers up there? Are supposed to be white. So we’ll have to get that sorted out {much to Rowan’s chagrin} but over all we’re super happy with the way things turned out.

Now. As I mentioned in my previous post, making the top bunk? Is pretty much an all morning event. Seriously people, it’s probably wise to do stretches and maybe run a few laps before hand. It doesn’t help that Rowan has a stiff, thick-ass Pottery Barn quilt so I can pretty much kiss my knuckles good-bye from trying to shove the sides of the quilt down and around the mattress. How sad is it that I have war wounds from making a goddamn bed? When I finally got that sonofabitch made I very seriously shouted out HA! I DEFEATED YOU BED! I WIN! I WINNNNNNNN!!

Because I’m super mature and stuff.

I’ve already learned a lot in the 3 and a half days of owning a bunk bed and while I could probably write many many appendices to this post I will just leave you with this:

1. Bunk beds not-so vaguely resemble a jungle gym to children.

2. Kids like to dangle objects from the top bunk.

3. Kids like to throw stuff from the top bunk.

4. Kids like to throw hard stuff from the top bunk.

5. At their brother, who drew the short stick in the bed draw, much to his dismay.

6. This brother will at some point lose his temper.

7. And throw his full cup of night-time water up in the general direction of the top bunk.

8. Water is subject to the laws of physics and will not only soak the top bunk and its occupant but the bottom bunk and ITS occupant, kind of voiding the whole retaliation of water throwing in the first place.

9. Keaton needs to think his revenge plots through better. I’m guessing this will happen quickly as there will be AMPLE opportunities while these bunk beds are still standing.

Now here are some really indulgent pictures of my kids NOT being assholes in their beds, as I could already use a reminder…

PS~

Did you see that adorable blanket at the end of Keaton’s bed up there? After seeing one she made for her niece, I asked this awesome lady if she would make one for Keaton and it tuned out so great. Thanks, Laylabean!

Read Full Post »