girlfiend

For the second week in a row I missed my OB appointment. Last week I showed up on Friday morning, only to be told my doctor was out and I was a no-show on Wednesday. I was mortified. I got a print out of my appointments to avoid similar fuck ups and went home only to do the same thing today. On my calendar my next appointment is clearly marked for April 9th. But in my wallet planner and on the print out the 7th is the date scheduled.

I missed an appointment, again, because I fucked up in transferring the date from one place to another. Awesome. If it’s this hard for me to get my shit together now, how on earth am I going to deal with schedules for myself and 3 kids?

The good news is that the baby has turned and I think it’s stayed that way. I feel feet where they should be. I’ve unfortunately hit my pregnancy limit well before my due date. I’m ready to evict this baby now, and I’ve still got a good 4 weeks. I have another ultrasound on Monday and I keep fantasizing that they’ll find a reason to recommend an early induction, which is fucking ridiculous because the last thing I want is to have a baby come when my body isn’t ready. I guess intellectually it’s the last thing I want. Emotionally I want this baby out.

For the fourth day in a row, T told us he had a poo in his diaper by sticking his hand in it and waving it around. Luckily, today I caught it before he had the opportunity to wipe his hand off on his clothes and toys. The other day I was not so lucky and needed to wash and disinfect half of the playroom.

Aside from putting him onesies, which I hate in general and don’t actually have in the appropriate size, is there a way to stop this disgusting monkey behavior? The Fiendling never did this. I am at a loss here. I am way too pregnant to deal with this (his) shit.

B’s mother and aunt called, and his sister who is currently vacationing in Florida texted to wish me a happy birthday. As I mentioned, my dad came by earlier in the day with a check and a card. Real friends called, emailed or texted and the facebook greetings from people with whom I haven’t had a verbal conversation with in 10-15 years in some cases are still rolling in. But my mother? I checked my email this morning to see a 10:45pm, too late to call so I have to email, happy birthday email written in a giant purple font in all caps. Think the font makes up for the fact that she forgot to wish me a happy birthday until I was already in bed?

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.

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.

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.

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.

Our bedtime experiment results have been mixed. T has adjusted nicely to the new room and likes climbing up on the big double bed to read stories before he goes to sleep for bed or nap. He didn’t nap particularly well most of last week, but I think that’s due mostly to his incoming 2 year molars and a slight cold. When I remembered to dose him with Motrin he slept through the night and took his usual 2-3 hour nap.

F isn’t adjusting. After the first night, when he woke up twice and woke me and his brother in the process, he went right back to sleeping in our bed. Right now this isn’t much of a problem. Except for the sideways sleeping. He likes to sleep sideways right beneath the pillows. Head by me, feet by B. Sometimes he switches and I get stuck with the feet. Most nights B moves him so that his head and feet are where they should be, but he doesn’t like sleeping with blankets and kicks himself out.

Early this morning I awoke to little feet kicking me on the legs and back. F was sideways, and angry. I don’t know what kind of dream he was having or what pissed him off, but his kicks, instead of accidental became shoves and he started yelling, “Go away,” and “leave me alone.” B woke up and went to the bathroom. I tried to calm F and turn him around, but he just got more and more angry and so did I. After a minute he seemed fully awake and aware so I told him that if he wanted to stay in our bed he was going to have to stop yelling at me and kicking. I told him I was going to bring him into the other room to sleep on the couch if he didn’t stop. He responded by throwing his water bottle then ripping a pillow out from under my head and throwing it. I lost my temper, picked him up and carried him into the other room where I dumped him on the couch. He got up and tried to run back into my room. I stopped him and put him back on the couch. He got off and tried to escape again. Same thing. By this point, really just a minute or two after he’d woken up in the first place, I was done.

B came out of the bathroom. I gave him the rundown of the previous minute and told him I was done. I went to the bathroom, then ignored the still angry and fighting Fiendling on my way back to bed. A few minutes later B and F got back into bed. I pretended to be asleep. F told B he wanted some water. His water bottle, which I’d collected from the floor was on my bedside table so I handed it to him. He said thank you then gave me a kiss. We all went back to sleep.

F didn’t wake up for the day until 8.30. I thought about waking him earlier but decided I’d rather have a peaceful hour or so with T. When he woke up he yelled for me. I went in to say good morning and sit with him for a few minutes while he adjusted to being awake. I asked if he remembered waking up in the night. He told me no. I reminded him of the events of the night before, glossing over the parts where he kicked me, threw his water, stole my pillow and got forcefully ejected from bed for a few minutes. He didn’t remember any of it.

I don’t know how I’m going to get my bed back before this baby comes. There’s no way I’m going to be able to share a bed with Boyfiend and the Fiendling and nurse a baby on and off all night. Even if I manage to stay awake for each nursing session and put the baby back in the pack n play, it’s still going to be a challenge.

It’s National Delurking Day, or what I affectionately like to call comment whore day. Pigs and I were just lamenting the loss of commenters now that more and more people are either reading through their phones or feed readers. So if you’re still reading, even if you’re not necessarily a lurker, leave a comment and let me know. Even if you’re reading this days from now, leave a comment. It will be good for my self esteem, and my self esteem could certainly use a boost these days.