girlfiend

Miss N is almost 3 months old. She is less of a squishy, lumpy, newborn and more of an actual baby these days. It is a little bit heartbreaking.

T is speaking more and more. I don’t believe his nutty speech therapist has anything to do with it. I think he’s just ready. He isn’t always clear and with new words it often takes a while to figure out what he’s saying, but he’s talking. Sentences even. He is hilarious and sweet and a holy terror these days. He is exhausting. Not too long ago he asked for a lollipop and I told him no. He pushed his chair over to the door by the basement stairs- we have a little pantry behind the door where I can lock the treats away. He couldn’t figure out the lock on the door and turned to his brother for help. He said, “F, help, please,” only it sounded more like “[F], ep, eese.” Because he had used words and asked so nicely I didn’t stop F from helping.

F is such a big kid now. He is tall and skinny and makes poop jokes that aren’t even slightly amusing. He is funny and charming and smart. He spent the better part of an hour writing the alphabet in the sand on our vacation. He can be sweet and polite without prompting, asking our friends how they have been and thanking me repeatedly for the watering can I bought him because he just really likes it. I want to say more nice things about him, but honestly, he is being a complete asshole today and I’m so blinded by rage that I can’t think of a single thing. But other people like him and have lovely things to say about him. Just not me right now.

A few weeks ago my mother emailed to tell me she was sending movers to my house to pick up my dining room furniture. The furniture was my grandmother’s and was at my mother’s shore house up until a few years ago when she decided the salt air was no good for it and she wanted to take my more casual dining room set and replace it with my grandmother’s. She spent who knows how much money for a guy to move the furniture to my house and swap it for mine. There was no fucking way I was going to let her take it back just because she was pissed off. Okay, that’s not entirely true. I would have said okay just because she is my mother and I don’t know how to respond to any of her insane shit, but B’s immediate “no” response snapped me out of my stupor. Rather than putting anything in writing I called her and told her no, I would be keeping the furniture. She told me we would discuss it further. I haven’t heard anything since. It is strange not talking to her, F tells me that he misses her. This is the week the movers are supposed to come. We changed the locks preemptively.

Aside from the crazy the summer has been relaxing and nice. Well, relaxing except for the children because children are anything but relaxing. We’ve gone to the beach and the mountains the art museum and playgrounds. We’re trying to cram in as much as we can before it’s over.

My baby boy has decided to potty train himself. I adore him. As long as he is not wearing pants he goes to the bathroom, pees in the potty then empties it into the toilet and flushes. The emptying part I could live without, considering he splashes urine all over the toilet and floor, but I am still thrilled. The problem is that he can not be without pants at all times and he is happy to use his diaper the rest of the time. I am not sure how to transition to full time potty use with pants on. The other issue is that he is too short to pee in a real toilet standing up and has no desire to pee sitting down. But these problems are minor. He just turned two last month and I am overjoyed that he is peeing in the potty at all. Two kids in cloth diapers is a lot of laundry.

My mother, who I have only seen once since she left the weekend after Miss N’s birth, is still crazy. She sent the boys toys which I wanted to save for later since we are currently at capacity after T’s birthday and N’s birth (for which the boys received big brother gifts from my mother) last month. She was angry that I didn’t give the boys the gifts right away and sent my father over to pick them up RIGHT AWAY. I lied and told him over the phone that I’d felt badly and given the boys the gifts and they were playing with them. HE told me she didn’t care and that he was supposed to get them immediately then call her as soon as he had them in his possession. Fucked up, right? He picked them up and I called my mother who did not answer and left a message of apology. I did not wish to apologize, but B and I figured it was the best approach. She did not return the call or acknowledge the apology. Today, 3 days later I received an email:

Dear Girlfiend:

I have decided not to rent my apt. Instead, i will move back in at the end of September. I will be able to help out with the children several days a week and give you a chance to get out and do your errands, etc.

I look forward to your reply to this as soon as possible.

Love,

Mom

What the hell am I supposed to do with this?

T is currently covering himself in aloe gel. I will have to cut this post short.

I made a stir fry for dinner. Bok choy, green onions, sugar snap peas, carrots and steak over rice. F ate two bowls of the veggies and three servings of rice (separately, of course) and T ate three servings of rice and possibly a vegetable and maybe even a bite of steak. Either way I count it as a success.

Little Miss N is four weeks old today. She is suddenly huge. I had to pack away all of the newborn size clothes that she’s outgrown. She has even grown out of the newborn diapers- I had to switch from orange edge to yellow. She’s waking up some and holds up her head and looks around. I hung a few toys from the play mat today and for a moment, after looking through the rest of the box, I wondered if I should get some new baby toys for her to play with. Then I remembered that she is a baby and will most likely shun 90% of age appropriate toys in favor of choking hazards and my cell phone.

I failed my middle child in two ways today:

1. He wanted to use the potty after his bath while I was giving Miss N her bath. He took the potty seat and tried to put it on the toilet but got it backwards. F fixed it for him, but T needed help getting up to sit. By the time I was able to get to him, at least a minute or two after he told me he wanted the potty, he was peeing on the floor next to the toilet.

2. A few minutes later I was getting Miss N into her pajamas. T followed me in the room and sat on the glider/recliner which was in the reclined position. Somehow he managed to get his leg stuck in the chair’s footrest. Really stuck. I tried to get it out, but couldn’t- I’d already broken one child’s leg and was afraid I’d break his too. I had to call for B to come up and get him unstuck. Nothing was broken, but there is a nasty bruise on both the front and back of his leg.

It’s getting easier. I wouldn’t call it easy, but I’m managing. I keep forcing myself to get out of the house and take the boys places so I can prove that I can do it. Not just the easy places like the library or the playground, but hard places like when I took all three out to get the boys haircuts and when we went to the Please Touch Museum and to the zoo. It’s hard, but it’s not as bad as I’d anticipated. The transition from two children to three isn’t nearly as difficult as the transition from one to two. I wouldn’t recommend having three kids so close in age, ages four, two and zero as F likes to tell people, but it’s okay.

It’s been two weeks since we got home from the hospital and I am having a tough time adjusting to three kids.

Like his brother before him, T has decided that napping is for babies. With F it wasn’t that much of a surprise- he was barely napping to begin with. But T was napping for 2-3 hours a day in his crib before this nap strike. Now that he learned to climb out of his crib- the day we got home from the hospital, of course- it’s a lost cause. I put him in his room and he plays quietly for an hour, but he doesn’t sleep then he is tired and cranky. I hope it’s just a strike and he’ll go back to napping, but I fear that this may be permanent and I may lose my mind. He’s only two. He needs a nap.

The Fiendling is doing well since he adores his sister. But he’s been regressing in a lot of ways, telling me he doesn’t know how to put on his clothes or shoes and he’s been speaking this irritating brand of baby talk, either speaking nonsense (WTF is Safa and why does he keep insisting it’s on the dining room table) or adding the long e sound to everything(I want the greenie platey). I am trying to be patient, but I am not. Especially when he takes his goddamn sock off after I put it on him because even though he gave me his left foot, he wanted me to put the right sock on before the left.

The new baby is wonderful. I love newborns and wish I’d known how easy they were when I had the Fiendling. She is sleepy and hungry and has gained more than a pound in two weeks. She is up a pound and a half from her discharge weight. She is starting to wake up a little and act a little fussy, but she’s a newborn, so she’s easily soothed. I wish they were all so easy.

My mother is out of her goddamn mind and we’ve only spoken twice since she stormed out of the house 2 weeks ago. The situation is not good, and it looks as though we won’t be spending much time at the beach this summer. Which sucks for the kids, but is good for my stress level. I will write out the story one of these days, cutting and pasting from emails, but I need a good chunk of time to compose the story because it is lengthy and crazy and infuriating.

It’s tough getting out of the house and it’s tough rounding them up and getting them home. It’s not easy feeding and watering everyone and keeping everyone content. The lack of T’s nap is making it incredibly difficult for me to get things like housework and laundry done. Thank god for my friends who have been delivering meals, because we’d be eating pretzels and nutella for dinner without them. I am tired and I wish I had more time to myself. I am sick of the tantrums and one child starting to cry after another has stopped. Mornings like today, when all children were crying at the same time before nine are morale killers. I just want to get back into bed, but I can’t, because my door doesn’t lock and the kids just follow me in, crying even harder. My sister-in-law, who has been very helpful, said that she didn’t want to bother me by calling because it looks like I have everything under control. I do not. I have very little under control, but I’m trying.

I either have four or five weeks left before B is home from the summer. I hope I can make it.

The Fiendling continues to be awesome. He still has his moments, but since his birthday he’s been quite reasonable.

Yesterday he was helping me unload groceries and he came to the bag that contained my pregnant woman impulse buys- two kinds of ice cream and a box of ice cream sandwiches. His eyes grew wide an he said, delighted, “Mommy you remembered that I really like ice cream sandwiches. And you bought them, even though we still have push pops in the basement! I love you, mommy.”

He really likes to kiss the baby in my belly.

He’s unable to pronounce Rs and Ls in most situations. Though he can pronounce the R at the beginning of the name Rusty, he is unable to pronounce it when it follows another consonant. Today he was singing, “The gween gwass gwows all awound all awound, the gween gwass gwows all awound.” It was adorable.

His vocabulary is surprising. The other day he and the baby were both wearing camouflage pants. I believe that F picked them out for the both of them. He was telling me about some dinosaur who is camouflage. I asked him if he knew what it means to be camouflage. He told me that the dinosaur blends in with his surroundings to protect himself from predators like other dinosaurs who want to eat him. Later that day we were playing outside and we heard some birds chattering. He said, “Mom, the birds are having an observation.” I asked if he meant conversation. He said, “No, observation,” in that teenager-like ‘you are an idiot’ tone of voice. He continued, “They are watching me ride my bike and play baseball.”

The baby is going to be 2 next month. He still seems like such a baby compared to F at the same age. I know that as soon as the new baby is born T will seem so big. But for now, even though he’s losing some of his pudge and getting so much taller, he is still such a baby. Maybe it’s because he’s still not talking much. His vocabulary hovers around 20-25 words and still mainly consists of animal sounds. He’s recently added “bubble” to his repertoire, and though I thought for sure B was making it up when he said he heard it the first time, T did say “love” last night when we were hugging and kissing before I put him in his crib.

T does say any numbers but he practices counting by pointing to his fingers one by one and saying, “More, more, more, more, more.” It’s super cute.

He brings me books to read and DVDs he wants to watch. He loves to play outside with the bikes and the balls and the assorted ugly plastic play equipment that lives in our yard. He adores our neighbor’s daughter and lights up when she comes outside to play. He goes running to see B when he gets home and says woof every time he sees a dog.

The boys are at a great stage right now where they play nicely together, sleep in the same room together, and generally entertain each other. They are difficult, as small children tend to be, but manageable, and if I wasn’t so goddamned pregnant and cranky all of the time I’d enjoy this stage so much more. Soon there is going to be a baby and it’s going to completely screw up the equilibrium. I’m hoping that it will all be fine. That F will keep it together and T won’t lose his shit completely the way F did when T was born. But who knows what’s going to happen. I just know that I want this baby out.

We’ve been relatively shit-free since I complained about T’s disgusting new habit. I may be jinxing myself here, but aside from cleaning dried feces that I’d somehow missed off of the wall going up the back stairs (it could have been mud or chocolate, but I tend to assume the worst) and fresh feces off of his hand during a diaper change, he’s been good enough to keep his little hands out of his diaper.

But his new habit is also unsavory. The new thing is that he likes to put food in his mouth and leave it there for a very long time. Until it dissolves. At which point he opens his mouth and lets it drip down to the floor. Are girls this disgusting?

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.

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.

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.