girlfiend

So you know, it has happened. All week long, F has been a relative angel. He’s been sweet and mostly agreeable and there hasn’t been a giant tantrum in days. He’s getting dressed, eating breakfast and going to school without argument and sleeping in his own bed. He’s been giving me hugs and kisses regularly and telling me how much he loves me several times a day. He hasn’t run away from me in public in weeks. Yes, he’s still been working my nerves. He still jumps on (and off of) the furniture and runs in the house and helps himself to handfuls of the chocolate chips I use for baking without permission. He still steals toys from his brother and has to be reminded about acceptable behavior several times a day. He still tests me and is still a pain in the ass. But his behavior has been so much better that the small transgressions, while irritating, aren’t even memorable at the end of the day.

The baby on the other hand? My sweet, darling boy? He has been possessed by the demon that has left F. For the last 3 days, from morning until night, T has been torturing me and his brother. He refuses to eat, he hits and pulls hair with little provocation, he has been throwing everything. The puzzle F is working on? T rips it apart, screaming like a banshee, and throws the pieces down the steps. The cereal he asked for? Dumped on the floor. Anything within reach on a surface? Thrown to the floor or down the steps or both. The eggs that need to come to room temperature before adding to the cake? Smashed on the kitchen floor. My coffee this morning? Spilled everywhere. The entire kitchen floor has been spot cleaned in the past 2 days. His pants? Keep disappearing. He has taken to removing his pants and diaper several times a day. And he’s fast, too. I’ll turn my back for less than a minute and when I turn around he is pantsless.

I just don’t get a break.

F’s birthday is on Monday. Four years ago today, March 5th, was his due date. He is going to be four. Four. How is it even possible? I have to make a Triceratops cake today. The Thomas Era seems to have come to an end thanks to the marketing geniuses behind Dinosaur Train.

T is up to about 20 words now including animal sounds.

Mama
dada
hi
howard (haya)
more
moo
baaaa
meow
woof
oink (unh)
oooo (cock o doodle doo)
vroom
beep
roar
up
thank you (ank)
milk (sounds like more or moo)
night night
bye bye (sounds like night night)
baby
Joshua (ha e ah)

He sings all day long, to himself and to us. He sings two Raffi songs, Baby Beluga and Joshua Giraffe, Twinkle Twinkle (though sometimes he’s singing the Alphabet song or Baa Baa Black Sheep), Lovin You and the mama or dada song which he just made up a few days ago.

He is fast and athletic, often getting himself into precarious situations. He loves to climb and jump.

He is very focused when he plays. Without his brother torturing him he can play on his own for an hour or more. He loves to put train tracks together, drive cars up and down his parking garage, and play with blocks.

My friend sent me a list of 17 ways to turn a breech baby. Most I was familiar with. Some were new to me.

5. CD/iPod headphones - place them inside mom’s pants toward her pubic bone and play classical music for 10 minutes 6-8 times a day.

Never occurred to me to put my ipod in my pants.

I’m still not used to being pregnant. You’d think that by now since I’m in my third trimester and either 29 or 30 weeks in (depending on if you’re looking at the initial due date or the dates from the ultrasounds which all date me a week ahead) I’d be a little more accustomed to the idea, but it still (the waddling, the occasional shooting pains, the leg cramps, the random bouts of heartburn) catches me by surprise. I can’t tell if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. I still hate being pregnant. But it’s not all consuming. Things haven’t been going that badly for me this time around. I’m not sleep deprived and horribly depressed. I don’t have constant heartburn like I did with T and I don’t have the constant paranoia I had with F. Or the insane weight gain I had with F.

Speaking of weight gain, I’ve started to gain weight for real; I’m up between 22-25 pounds depending on the scale but I still find myself asleep on my stomach some mornings. Clothes are an exercise in humiliation. Even though I’m carrying small, most of my maternity shirts are too short and my pants are too big. I’m always showing off either a butt crack or belly gap, even with a stupid belly band over my pants. It’s not good for my self-esteem. I’ve taken to wearing makeup, just so I don’t feel so shitty about how I look.

This baby is breech. I know that it’s not a big deal yet, but both of the boys were head down by this point and the last thing I want is a c-section recovery. My OB told me not to do any interventions yet (chiropractor, acupuncture) since the baby still has plenty of time to flip. But I am a pessimist by nature and the six weeks until my 36 week ultrasound is a long time to worry and wait.

We made it through the great blizzard of 2010 without incident or major tantrum until bath time, when F sat in the (by then) cold water screaming at the top of his lungs for a good half hour. He did not want to get out. Yet, by the volume and intensity of his screams, he did not wish to stay in. A conundrum. So we did what any good parents would do and ignored him. We let him shiver in the cold bath until he was done screaming then got him a nice warm towel which is a wood stove bonus. We are spoiled by warm towels. F likes to go to sleep with a warm towel at night.

I baked two loaves of bread, a few dozen cookies, 2 dozen mini and 8 large sweet potato muffins, a focaccia, 2 pizzas, and made some sauce to go on the pizzas. The cookies are all gone, the boys ate more than dozen mini muffins, we ate half a loaf of bread and most of the pizzas. The focaccia is for later.

In a few hours, after B shovels the 2 feet of snow from the sky and the 3 extra feet of snow the plows pushed in front of our driveway, then goes down the hill to shovel the two feet of snow in front of the properties he manages, we’ll pack the car and begin our annual trek to New Hampshire. This is the trip where B ice fishes for 10 hours a day leaving me inside with the children. We go with two other couples (three this year) and it’s always a good time, except for the fact that I’m bitter about being stuck with the children. Oh, and the drinking. There is a lot of drinking. We are the only couple with children and our (who am I kidding, my) ability to drink freely is hampered by parenting. Then add in the pregnancy and my good time is further curtailed. But I’d be even more bitter if I was stuck at home with the kids while he was off gallivanting with friends for 4 nights, so I go. Without the kids it’s a 7 hour drive. With the kids, it’s 9. This is F’s first post-potty training long car trip, so I’m a little nervous.

And it should be noted that while packing for two children is ridiculous, packing for two children and three adults going to a cold climate in the winter is even more fucking ridiculous. Between the sweaters, snow pants, hats, gloves, boots, pack n play, toys, books, and diapers you’d think we were going a way for a month, not a long weekend. It’s a good thing we bought a giant car.

I failed to mention in my earlier post that I threw a giant temper tantrum right along with F this morning. After he pushed and pushed and pushed I turned into a raving lunatic, screaming and stamping my feet. I felt badly about my juvenile reaction to his juvenile behavior and decided to take the boys to the children’s museum.

You should know that I hate that place. I used to enjoy it when it was downtown, small and contained. But then they moved into a larger space, a giant, beautiful space, and now I hate it. It is too big. Too much to do in a two hour block. Not enough activities that are actually engaging. I’ve been to children’s museums in other states that manage to teach things through play. Ours has dropped the ball on that. And to make it worse, there is entirely too much corporate sponsorship. Do they really need a play McDon@lds in a museum? Anyway, I hate it there, but the boys love it so I take them anyway. And when it expires this year, as much as the boys love it, I am not renewing the membership.

Anyway, I should have known it was a terrible idea to take him there on an already shitty day. I pulled the car out of the driveway and got T into his seat. F tried to climb into the car but it was too slippery and he needed my help. I helped him into his seat, got his arms into the straps, tightened, and one of the straps came out completely. Not sure how, but it disengaged from the thing on the back of the seat. This meant that I had to take his seat out to fix it. The childless among you may not understand what a pain in the ass it is to mess with a car seat. Even with latch, it’s still an ordeal to loosen the belt that keeps it secure, undo the latch, fix the strap that came undone, put it back together, get the seat back in, and tighten it enough so it’s safe. Especially when it’s 20-some degrees outside, I’m standing in a 2 foot bank of snow, the metal latches are frozen, my fingers are frozen, and both kids are outside with me. I should have given up and brought the kids back inside, postponing the outing for another day, but I soldiered on.

25 minutes later, after a car ride of me explaining the rules and expectations of behavior, especially my expectations of what was going to happen when it was time to leave, we were at the museum. The boys played nicely and I didn’t have too much trouble keeping them both in sight. But then I was helping T down a slide, and in the two seconds I wasn’t watching him F ran to the opposite side of the museum. I had to get the museum staff to locate him. When I caught up with him I didn’t lose my mind or yell. I reiterated the rules about staying close and he remembered our earlier talk about safety and strangers. He apologized and stayed very close, asking to see something else for the next hour.

I gave him plenty of warning as it got close to the time to leave. I told him we we were going to do one more thing, stop in the gift shop so he could look at the trains, get our coats and leave. We went to the arts and crafts room and played for a bit. The boys had a snack. We went to the gift shop. I said it was time to get our coats. And F started to freak. He didn’t want to ride in the stroller so I let him walk across the entrance hall to the coat room. Halfway across F took off running, back into the museum. Wisely, he stopped to see if I was chasing him and I managed to catch him and drag him into the coat room. T was ready to nap and gladly put on his coat. I had to muscle F into his coat, then muscle him into the stroller while he screamed and screamed.

He didn’t want to wear his coat. I told him had to because it was freezing outside. He didn’t want to sit in the stroller. I told him he had to because he’d run off two times and I needed to be sure he was safe. Screaming at the top of his lungs he kicked off his boots. I put them in our bag and pushed him out of the coat room. T was sweet enough to hold my hand and walk beside me. F screamed through the entrance hall and out the door. People stared, probably assuming by the volume of his screams that I was beating him with a fire poker. I pushed him down the long ramp, to the parking lot, his screams growing impossibly louder.

Some asshole parked right on top of my car, meaning I could get T into his seat, but there wasn’t enough room for me to get F or my pregnant self in since I couldn’t open either of the doors wide enough. I got T safely buckled and briefly considered keying the asshole’s car, but didn’t just in case they were having as bad a day as I was. Not knowing what to do with F, who was still kicking and screaming securely strapped in the stroller, I opened the tailgate and threw him in the back of the car along with the stroller.

I climbed in the passenger side door, over the console to the driver’s seat and turned on the car. F, who has had car seat safety drilled into him, started shrieking for me to stop, he didn’t want to sit back there and he needed to be buckled into his seat. He climbed into his seat and I buckled him, which didn’t stop him from screaming the whole ride home. At one point I left Boyfiend a message asking if I could just leave him in the car all afternoon long. Then I took a short video with my phone of the screams which I sent to B, so he could enjoy it along with me. I’m not sure how I managed to restrain myself, but at no point did I yell back. I didn’t even respond. I kept my mouth shut.

Halfway through the 10 minute ride F stopped screaming about going back to the museum and started screaming that he wanted to stay in the car. He screamed I don’t like you. I ignored it, even when he said it again and again. He screamed I don’t love you and I wanted to ignore it, but instead I told him that I loved him, and even when I’m mad and even when he does things he shouldn’t. I will still love him. I will always love him. That may have been more for my benefit than for his. I wanted to, but did not, tell him that I wanted to fucking kill him.

We got home and miraculously, T managed to fall asleep through the screaming. Rather than mess with both of them, I gave F what he wanted and left the car in front of the driveway, locking it, and imagining that passersby would see him screaming in there and call the police to report me for neglect. I brought T in the house, leaving the still screaming Fiendling in the car. T woke up as soon as I put him down, so I changed his diaper and got him a snack before going back to the car to get F who had calmed down sufficiently in the few minutes I was in the house. He’d gotten the top part of his strap unbuckled, but he still can’t finagle the bottom so he was still in his seat. His face was red and tear stained and he was hiccuping. He said, mama, I love you. I asked if he was ready to go in the house with me and he said yes. I collected his socks and hat and mittens and carried him into the house and got him a snack.

T never got his nap. I never got a break. F is still on the verge of a tantrum and I hate myself for taking away TV and computer privileges earlier, but there is no fucking way I’m going to back down on this today, even though I’m losing my mind.

It is not even 10am and already I am doubting my ability to make it through the day without killing this kid. We fought over a grilled cheese sandwich that was too oozy that he threw on the couch, staining a blanket and his pajamas, he screamed for 6 minutes straight because I had to use the bathroom, and he’s currently screaming that T is not allowed to play with any toys because he insists that “everything is mine.” Even the things that clearly aren’t. I’ve already taken away TV and computer privileges for the day. He’s already had a time out in his room.

I don’t know how how I’m going to get through the day. I am already in tears.

It’s odd to be so very unhappy about this unplanned pregnancy yet so excited about the eventual baby.

T wanted very much to wear his winter boots this morning. I wonder if he knows we’re supposed to get 10-18 inches of snow.

Taking away TV and computer privileges is far worse for me than it is for him.

I know nothing about middle child syndrome since I was an only child. All I know of it I’ve learned from The Brady Bunch. I imagine that T will not be affected in all the same ways as poor Jan was once this third child arrives, but he’s sure to experience some trauma and I want to record this easy time while it’s happening. I also feel like I should take some time to fill you in on the baby, lest you think I’ve forgotten him in the midst of all the asshole drama.

T, at 20 months, is awesome. He does have his fair share of toddler tantrums, and will scratch at my face and pull my hair if I forcibly remove him from whatever activity he should not be engaged in or take him away from the playground before he is ready to leave, but for the most part he is wonderful.

He still isn’t talking. He has a few words- mama, dada, haya (Howard), hi, yay (usually accompanied by a clap), and makes some animal and vehicle sounds, but that’s about it. And his animal sounds are just plain lazy. He says “mmmmm” for moo and “unh unh” for oink. At least he says them with enthusiasm. We finally had his hearing checked last week and as I suspected, it is fine. So we can rule out hearing issues. I still think he is just slow to talk and that when he is ready he will surprise us all with complete sentences.

His comprehension is fine- he follows multi-step directions with pleasure- and he is still relatively successful at communicating his wants and needs. He knows what he wants and if you don’t he will show you. He has long since mastered the art of pushing a step stool, chair, or any object he can move over to the cabinets (or window sill, or bed, or whatever) so he can help himself to a snack (or toy, or forbidden object) if you don’t move quickly enough. He points with such enthusiasm and nods his head yes when I get it right so earnestly that I don’t even have the heart to try to get him to speak. He is just plain bashful about attempting to repeat words. He’ll shake his head no and avert his eyes.

He’s not great at staying with me when I try to get him to walk instead of ride in a stroller or shopping cart, but he is getting better. He loves to push a shopping cart, and though every trip takes three times as long when I let him, it is worth it to see how much fun it is for him.

Finally, after many long months of wondering if this kid was just not a reader, T has fallen in love with books. He wants to read them before his nap and before bed, he wants to read when he wakes up and every time he sees a book he likes throughout the day. He’ll pick up the book of choice. Hold it extended in one hand and say “Eh,” which I assume means, “now, woman,” then turn around and back his butt up until it lands in my lap. Like most toddlers he has favorites and wants me to read the same book repeatedly. And by repeatedly I mean shoot me now, if I have to read that stupid motherfucking Cheerios Play Book one more time my head may explode, but I then I read it again because I’m just so damn grateful he is loving books. At least he switches them up every few days.

He is still a really good sleeper. He takes a two or three hour nap every day and sleeps through most nights. There are exceptions- molars, illness, sleep regression, moving bedrooms, brother screaming and waking him up in the night, but 90% of the time he is dependable. I can bring him up to his room, read him a story, put him in his crib and he’ll go to sleep. Sometimes he cries for a bit when I leave, but he usually realizes just how exhausted he is and goes to sleep pretty quickly. On rare occasions I’ll have to go back upstairs and hold him for a bit. He hasn’t nursed in a few days now. He seems pretty content for me to hold him. I’m hoping he’s done for good. F weaned right around the same age.

He loves to play with trains and cars and trucks. Unlike his brother he is not solely a railway enthusiast. He plays with his parking garage and with the race track and the train tracks contentedly, right up until his brother decides that other 7000 vehicles in the house aren’t good enough and he needs to take whatever T is playing with right out of his hand. T has caught on to F’s shenanigans, and at times he will preemptively run away from him, clutching whatever toy he is playing with at the moment. If he doesn’t see the attack coming he sometimes strikes back. And though I feel badly about cheering him on at his brother’s expense, F really does deserve to have his hair pulled, face scratched and legs bitten some times.

T loves to tackle and he loves to be tickled. He also loves when I play Criss Cross Applesauce with him, which is a back tickle that is a little more G-rated than the summer camp version we used to play that involved stabbing someone in the back with a knife.

He sings. Not words, but he hums the tune of several songs. At night when I sing to him before he goes to sleep he’ll often hum requests. Joshua Giraffe, Baa Baa Black Sheep (which he always requests over the other songs with the same tune), and Lovin’ You are his favorites right now.

I’m forgetting so many of the things I wanted to write about when I started this yesterday. I’m sure I’ll remember more and want to add it later. He is a good, sweet boy. He is such a good time. I love him so much.