Shopping FAIL! Bedtime WIN!

Today, we met up with our friend L and her girls I & G at Ikea. L was a bit late arriving, since she had to come from the other side of the city, and also since she drives like someone's grandma. (Seriously, L - the gas is the little skinny pedal on the right. ;))

We decided to meet up for lunch. And then, we thought it would be fun to let the three big kids play together in Small Land while the rest of us shopped. J is finally tall enough to be admitted to Small Land. When we found out he could get in, H and I were over the moon! (Imagine the prospect of shopping sans preschooler!) But it was not to be. Because J, after taking far too long to eat and tying everyone up for a prolonged period, refused to go into Small Land. And he started having a tantrum, so we picked him up and just left. And poor L had to shop all by herself while we took J for a much needed nap. She must have been so lonely, shopping all alone, with not even a screaming preschooler for company. ;)

As we drove, we passed what appeared to be a carnival. Big rides. Looked like fun. J wanted to go and play, but we weren't about to have him miss his nap after his earlier display. Besides, there are those pesky height restrictions to think of. J is still pretty short for his age, the result of his continued refusal to eat, and he probably wouldn't come up to most ride height restriction lines. So we took a pass.

H: No, J. You have to be a certain height to ride.
J: I AM a certain height!

Well, he's right. We're all a certain height. But he still didn't get to go on any rides.

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Sadly, today's Ikea experience was more familiar to us than we'd like to admit. These days, we just don't get to spend quite enough time with other adults without children present. As a result, four-year old logic is starting to make sense to us. Like so:

J: Look at the big nose on my watch pointing over here.
H: That's an arm, J. Not a nose.
J: But it's on the watch's face!

Incidentally, does anyone know why watches have arms on their faces? Were they designed by Pablo Picasso or something?

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J has many interests. Mostly balls and blocks. But sometimes, other toys get his attention. Like paints. Or Star Wars.

H: Maybe they just know we're busy with our two?
J: D2.

(Seriously. Think about it. Say it out loud. It makes sense; I promise.)

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In other news, tonight N had a bath. While that doesn't sound like much, it was significant. It was the first time that N did not sob uncontrollably during bath time. He sat up in the tub and splashed happily, chasing after his little toy seal and spraying me with water. He frequently stood up for hugs, smiling happily. And he would lie back, knowing Mommy would catch him, and then roll over onto his tummy to crawl around in the warm soapy water. Such a fun time!

Then the kids went to bed. J wanted snuggles, and I happily complied. Always with a tune in my head, I lay next to my little guy with my eyes closed and I hummed. And J looked at me with love in his eyes, and sang me an impromptu lullaby:

Go to sleep.
Go to sleep.
Go to sleep, and sing.
I love you.
I love you so much.
So go to sleep, and sing.
You will be my mommy forever.
You will be my mommy forever.
And I love you forever.
Now go to sleep.

Sometimes, J can be a bit of a demon. But tonight's lullaby really made up for a lot.

Good night, J. Good night, N. I love you.

H singing to J

While holding J's little plastic dinosaur, sung to the tune of "Flipper":

They call him Dyno, Dyno,
King of Juras-sic.
No one you see
Is grander than he.
And we know Dyno, Dyno
Is made of plas-tic.
Ain't it fantas-tic.
Dyno he be.

I woke up irritable

This does not bode well for a good and productive day.

J was up three times last night. Eventually, he went back to sleep. But by then, neither H nor I could sleep properly. H got up to go and play on the computer. I eventually went back to sleep, and so did H. We both slept late. I had bad dreams. I awoke really angry, because of something that happened in my own subconscious. Stupid, but I couldn't do anything about it. I left the room to study. J saw me, and flipped out.

And now, I am blogging when I ought to be studying.

But my foul mood is dissipating. H and J are both up now, and I can hear H through the wall in J's room. He is dressing J for the day, and singing "Smooth Operator" like a children's song. It makes me smile.

Okay, that's enough. I'm going to get back to my books now.

Havin' a Heatwave

Tonight, H was dancing around the kitchen with J.

Sometimes, H likes to sing to entertain J.

"Your mommy loves you
And you love her
Doo-dee-doo-dee-doo-dee-doo
Your kitties have fur"

I love my husband!

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We're havin' a heatwave. It's bad. I don't know if it's cooler outside or in just now, but it's bad either way. It's 1,867,897,675,952,311,245,809 degrees out. And I'm meeeelllting. Meeeeeeeeelllllllllting!!

I awoke today, warm but otherwise okay. But within a couple of hours, I developed a migraine. Mostly, I speculate, from dehydration. Why? Because it's 1,867,897,675,952,311,245,809 degrees out. And I'm losing moisture rapidly. I also have asthma. Asthma adores the heat, and it comes out to play quite regularly. Asthma medication causes headaches. As does lack of oxygen from the asthma attack.

My head was pounding away. It was terrible. And so we canceled plans with our friends for the evening. And we spent the day in search of air-conditioned environments. Every time we would go into an air-conditioned environment, my migraine would lessen. And when we'd leave, it would return. But I fail to see the correlation. Really.

We bought a new car a few years ago. It does not have air conditioning. Yes. We are that stupid. The fan usually works well. But not today. Today, it only blew hot air. The old car doesn't have a/c either. It's a very old car. And in fact, it only blows hot air at any point in time. The fan is broken.

Today, we went shopping. It was air conditioned!! It was heaven!!! "I am going to live in the Home Depot store!!!!" No such luck. We came home. J's usually cool milk had turned to a frothy steamed-milk beverage while we were driving in the car. It was frightening. We emptied the mug and washed it thoroughly. We hung out in the backyard. We baby-proofed more of the house. We put J in his little pool. He didn't stay in it for very long, but he was better today than he was yesterday.

Yesterday, we put him in the pool and he climbed out, ripped off his swim diaper, and tried to run around to the front of the house and streak down the street. I caught him about halfway to the front yard.

But today, he kept his swim trunks on, and he had some fun in the pool. He decided to dip his sippy cup in the water, but that's okay; it's clean water. And he had a good time. I waded in the baby pool. And it was wonderful! I think I may sleep there tonight.

H and I have always said that central air-conditioning is a luxury in our climate. We don't need it. We live in a cold climate. It only gets hot like this for a few days out of every year. The rest of the time, you pretty much keep the furnace on. But on days like these, I start to wonder. Is the central a/c worth it after all?

No. Of course it's not worth it. Not here. Not for a few days out of every year. Not when we have bills to pay, a basement to finish, a garage to build, a retaining wall to erect, and a car to replace. Not when we can't afford it. Not for us. No.

We have resolve. We are correct. Central a/c is not needed. We can cope. Yes, it's hot, but we will survive. We do not need central a/c. And more importantly, we cannot afford central a/c. So we will not get central a/c.

Alright then. I'm going to go pop a few more candied Tylenols now, and then I may vomit. It's fine. I'm sure the cost savings is totally worth it.

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'Night.

J's favorite lullaby

Took me awhile to figure out what to do to post this with that silly word verification still on, but it is manageable.

This is J's favorite lullaby. It is my version of Robert Munsch's "Love You Forever", with a slight change in wording. The original is:

I'll love you forever
I'll like you for always
As long as I'm living
My baby you'll be.

I figure J will always be my baby, living or not. So I made it more ... me. I like this particular lullaby, because it always makes J smile (even in his sleep) when I sing it to him.

So here it is. I hope you enjoy it too.

More Music to Diaper By

Changing J this morning, H once again burst into song.

Warning: It is about poop.

To the tune of "Smile":

Smile, when your bum is poopy
Smile, even though it's goopy
When there are clouds in the sky
You'll get by
If you smile, through your tears and sorrow
Smile, and maybe tomorrow
Your bum will stay all free of poo
If you
Just smile.

Barley the Dinosaur

Breakfast is far more fun when H is at home to participate.

Today, J tried barley cereal. He wasn't too keen on it. H sat across from J and ate a bowl of Cheerios again. (He also made J laugh and, while the mouth was open, I tried putting the spoon in so J would get more. J didn't like that. We won't try it again.) J didn't even want to feed himself this morning. But we did get about half the bowl into him anwyay.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, H started telling J all about "Barley and Friends". Stories are entertaining for H and I, even if they do nothing to convince J to eat his cereal.

H: Then Barley the Dinosaur said "I've had enough!" so he left to become a Monk in Siberia.

My son, the music critic

Me: [singing to J during early morning diaper change] "You are so beautiful to me, can't you see?"

J: "Thbbbbbbbbt!"

Music to diaper by

J refuses to nap anywhere but in my arms today. Since there are very few activities I can accomplish one-handed, and there is only so much TV a person can watch at a time, I find myself back on my computer. Again. But H will be home soon, and maybe J would like to snuggle with Daddy for a bit too. Ergo, perhaps I'll be productive tonight. One can only hope.

Now, today I registered J in swim classes (he'll be able to play with his little friend Draya, since they are both registered in the same class. YAY!) And I booked his 6 month check-up and paid some bills. And we went for a brief walk too. (Didn't go far, as I am still sick, but I really wanted out of the house for a few moments. At least I'm on the mend now and will hopefully be all better very soon.) I also got through a short section of my course module and the remainder of a demonstration problem in a (very brief) period when J was feeling more independent. Still not sure I'm getting the hang of it, but I'm trying and I'm sure I will understand it for the exam. My flash card pile is growing at an alarming rate and is starting to frighten me! So my day was not completely wasted, but I need a lot more time with both hands free so I can do things like laundry and the rest of my homework. Can't wait for J's daddy to come home. (Sound of me humming merrily in anticipation.)

As already established, H regularly sings to J. He's been performing this delightful little number for quite some time now, and I can't believe I've not blogged it already! It was borne of a late-night diaper change when H was particularly exhausted. (Remember here that we frequently refer to J as "Bubby".)

To the tune of "Hello My Baby":

Hello my baby,
Hello my Bubby,
Hello my stinky boy.
You make your bum go poo;
What is a daddy to dooo-ooo?
When you are stinky
You get all blinky
And then you start to cry.
But daddy
Will keep you warm and dry-y.

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That is all. For now.

Raspberry Baby

J is supposed to be sleeping. He should be sleeping. He is in his jammies, has been changed and fed, and lies peacefully and contentedly in his crib. All is still. All is calm. J should be sleeping.

But is J sleeping?

J lays in his crib. Wide awake. Blowing raspberries. Loudly. Repeatedly. Rhythmically.

I wish I had a tape recorder!

Update: September 18, 2005 @ 9:25 a.m.

H singing to J (Part 3)

To "Raspberry Beret" by Prince

"'Cause you're a raspberry baby
The kind you find in the grocery store.
You are a raspberry baby
You go 'thbbbpt thbbbpt' but you can't say much more."

H Singing to J (Part 2)

(For those of you who missed Part I, click here to read.)

This morning, H was playing with J with his little stuffed sheep (the sheep is important to the story). Suddenly, H began to sing.

To the tune of "[Somewhere] Beyond the Sea":

"Somewhere
Beyond Boobie;
Somewhere,
Waiting for Baby
Are peas and carrots and squash
And a little rack of lamb
They are yum-my."

I laughed myself into a tizzy.

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I would also like to take this opportunity to remember a moment, back last May, which I failed to blog. H was reading J "The Very Hungry Caterpillar". When he was done, he began to play with J, with the little stuffed caterpillar that came with the book (thanks KJ and D).

H: "And the caterpillar says, 'J, can I have some of your breast milk?'"
J: "BARF!!!!"

Terrible Night

It's like a million degrees in the house, and J has decided he is in the mood for cuddles. With me. Only me. While being walked around, carried upright, and jiggled. In the bedroom. With the ceiling fan on and "The Incredibles" on the DVD player. He won't take his pacifier or let H hold him. He's just eaten 4-1/2 oz of expressed milk by bottle, and his diaper has been changed, so no problems on those fronts. And if I tried to change even one element in the delicate balance of walking, jiggling and noise, he started to scream. This is why I am up at this time of morning.

I'm currently allowing him to try to feed, even though there is no milk left in me, so that I can leave the bedroom and let H catch some sleep before work tomorrow. J is not screaming at the breast (though I myself am starting to feel like screaming, it hurts so much). I took some Codeine earlier, thinking J was going to sleep. Now I have to keep myself busy so that I can stay awake while I hold him until I can lull him to sleep. Journaling will hopefully help for a while.

On a somewhat related note, J really seems to like music. He's picky, though. He prefers easy listening, sung to him by a parent. It must be sung with great fervor and drama, like we mean it - it can't be in a baby-talk kind of a voice, or he'll cry. Usually, if I sing When I Need You by Leo Sayer while I hold him and look into his eyes, he will calm right down. I'm not sure what's more disturbing: that my child seems to enjoy this song, or that I apparently know all the words.

H Singing to J

H was singing to J tonight ("Any Dream Will Do" from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat):

Now I return
To the beginning
Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo
Doo-dee, doo, doo, doo
And I don't know
How the rest of the words go
But I sure love you
Any dream will do.

Now I return
To the beginning
Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo
Doo-dee, doo, doo, doo
It's the only part
Of the song that I know
But I'm still singing
Any dream will do.

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My husband is so sweet!