Network Nitpicks

I'm totally into Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip; the show is awesome. But one thing is bugging me: how is it possible to have a live 11:30 p.m. show on the West Coast? Does it air at 2:30 a.m. on the East Coast? Jordan says in an interview, "Tune in at 11:30," implying that it is indeed on at 11:30 everywhere. But how does that work? Some please tell me so I can stop obsessing about this when I watch the show.

Potty Talk

He's not toilet trained. But he knows how to procrastinate.

"Time for bath!"

"I need to use the potty!"

So he sits on the potty, reading his Richard Scarry's Cars, Trucks and Things That Go book. "I need privacy," he yells, so we have to shut the door and just periodically call from outside, "Everything going okay in there?" "Yeah," he calls back.

After a half hour, he'll get up and announce, "I'm done!" Sometimes there's a special something in there; sometimes it's empty. Either way, he gets to go to bed close to half an hour late.

What can we do? Tell him he can't use the potty? Tell him to hurry up? Tell him to get to business? Yeah. He's a clever little one.

Scream Fest '06

The screaming. Oh the screaming! Bloody murder, ain't-going-to-have-any-of-it screaming. That little monkey screamed for a full hour tonight. She didn't want up. She didn't want down. She didn't want food. She didn't want to be sung to. Adam walked in and I immediately passed her off. He changed her diaper, checked her for hairs wrapped around her fingers or toes, investigated her mouth. Still she screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

Just as I was beginning to contemplate a trip to the E.R., I realized exactly what she wanted. The br*east. It wasn't even a normal BFing time, but the minute I popped that little monkey a look of bliss spread over her face and all screaming ceased. She drifted off a little and when I finally took her off, she completely had a second wind, and happily went toddling/crawling/squealing/destroying around the house.

Did I say I'd be weaning her on her way to college? I meant grad school.

Wobbling Along

The benefit of having kids whose birthdays are a mere two days apart is that I can really gauge where Pie is in terms of Doodles. Not that I'm comparing them, but it's merely a point of reference. I commented to Adam that I so clearly remember when Doodles found his feet. We dropped him at the temple childcare for Rosh Hashanah services and when we picked him up, they said, "Oh, he was a doll! So wonderful, so easy to take care of!" And then... between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur (an eight-day period) he started walking. And when we went to pick him up after the Yom Kippur services, well, let's just say no one called him a joy to be with.

The first day of Rosh Hashanah was last Saturday. On our way to services, I said to Adam, "Well, if she wants to keep up with her brother, Pie is going to have start walking in the next eight days."

Pie, apparently, is always up for a challenge. Because we were home not two hours from services when the little monkey let go of the ottoman she was standing against and took five wobbly little steps. Today she took it up a notch, and toddled all around the playground. She's still crawling more than walking, but the walking is coming with a vengeance.

My little monkey is officially no longer a baby but a true toddler. How is that possible?

I'm Baaaack!

I'm finally out from under. I had a major writing job (which I'm still working on), a copyedit job, a proofreading job, a book review, a kids' event at our synagogue I was co-chairing, and hosting a baby shower for a neighbor. Of course, this was in the middle of Doodle's transition from day care to preschool, which means for a few weeks, I have a lot of Doodle time. I made it to Sunday, the event was over, the baby shower was over, most of the jobs were in and all I had left was the one writing job that I was looking forward to doing. I said to Adam before bed, "Yeah! Tomorrow I get three whole hours to myself to get some solid work done." I was excited thinking about the pot of tea I'd make, the quiet house, me and my work. So, of course, I wasn't surprised the next morning when I got home from my run and Adam said to me, "We have a big problem" (and wasn't it sweet of him to say "we" when it was clearly "me" who had the big problem?). "Sweetie Pie is running a fever." The definition of fever at Sweetie's day care is 100.4. She had 100.6. I know she did it on purpose. Just to piss me off. The fever was of course gone by the next morning. That girl. Always gets what she wants, one way or another.

In Brief

• At the playground, Doodles started shouting from across the park: "Sweetie! Give me a beer! Give me a beer, Sweetie! I need a beer!"
  
• What goes through that little head? I went to pick Doodles up from preschool last Friday and the teacher says to me, "So you're headed to New York now?" Um, no. What else has that boy been telling you?
  
• My friend J. visited last week with her six-month-old son, who is also a J., but since that's confusing, I'll call him S. (for son). Doodles was so excited to have S. over. He's already declared a number of times that he wants more babies. He seems to have a hankering for brothers. I told him that while S. was in town, Doodles could borrow him as a brother. J. concurred. Well, two days after they left, at lunch, Doodles asked me, "Are we going to borrow S. later?" I explained that they went home. Doodles was pretty upset and he said, "But J. said we could borrow S.!" He was not happy.
  
• Doodles finally tried syrup. He's been eating pancakes, waffles, and French toast for a while, but only with cinnamon sugar. At a restaurant recently, he barely dipped a pancake in some, tasted it, and declared happily, "It's juicy!"
  
• Pie Pie took a single step. And then she panicked, realized what she did, and took it back. She, is however, regularly trying to climb everything she can. She'll be standing somewhere innocently, then the next thing I know, that little knee is lifting as she tries to scale just about anything. The other day, I caught her trying to pull herself up onto our bed. And then over the side of the arm chair. And then up the big climber at the playground. She is a fiery little thang. The gate on our stairs is retractable. Sometimes, when I go to close it, the bottom doesn't quite catch. In all of Doodle's three years, it was never something I worried about. Now, I worry about it. Because the other day, I heard a strange noise. The sound of a gleeful Pie. Which only happens when she's doing something she's not supposed to be doing. I came out and I was very confused when I saw that the gate was closed, but Pie was halfway up the staircase. Turns out the bottom didn't catch, and somehow, Pie managed to lift up the corner of the gate, wiggle underneath it and over that bottom step, and take off. She's go go go and you'd better keep up! Where's the Pie? Oh, pulling every book off the shelf. What's that in her mouth? Oh, just a half-eaten crayon. What's that piercing noise ? Oh, that must be the normal 4 to 6 p.m. screamfest. That girl is going to be the death of me.
  

Weaner

Oh, but she is a clever little monkey. I'm not sure if I should be impressed by her will and determination or frustrated by, well, her will and her determination. I think it's a little of both.

Basically, in the battle between the Pie and the Br*east, the Pie is winning, 1-0. She has managed, in the process of weaning, to actually increase the number of times she's feeding. She's gone from four feeds a day to five feeds a day. How has she done that, you ask? By the sheer power of those little lungs, the fire in her crankiness, and the exhaustion of the mommy.

I am so not into the toddler nursing thing. I'm really going to be bummed at the teenager nursing thing. Which is where, I'm pretty sure, she's leading me.

We Need a Nanny

Wondering what's going on in my life? Well I have just one more week of reduced childcare and then I will (sort of) have my life back. But right now I'm drowning, simply drowning in all of the stuff that needs to get done, staying up way too late at night and being way too cranky in the day time, so for now, I'll have to just leave you wondering about what Sweetie and Doodles are up to.

The End Is Nigh

In the morning, Sweetie cries to get our attention. When I come into her room, she sits up, gives a huge smile, and claps, a little, "Yeah! You're here!" I bring her into our bed and lay her down to feed her. When I open my br*a now, Sweetie actually says, "Hello!" to my br*east. If that's not a sign that it's time to wean, I don't know what is...

Busy Little Bees

You people are definitely getting gypped with my blog. So many weeks I think I have nothing to blog and I have to make due. But lately, I've thought of a zillion things to tell all of you... but I don't have any time to do so. I've been stretched so thin,I've had to let things slide, and dear blog readers, right now that includes you. The problem? The problem is I've taken on more work than normal. Which wouldn't be so bad if Doodles weren't making the transition from day care to preschool. Day care was two days a week from 8 a.m. to 4 a.m. Preschool will be two and a half days... eventually. This week? No school. Next week? On Monday he goes for an hour. Then he starts up a 9 to 12 schedule. Then three weeks later, the extended hours that allow for a full workday set in for two afternoons. So that's pretty much almost two weeks of no care and a couple of weeks of miniscule care. And lots and lots and lots of work. Did I mention I have a lot of work? A lot. And I love having a lot of work. I enjoy working. But I also enjoy sleeping. And sleep has been suffering.

So, quickly, other things going on:
Pumpus Interruptus: The pump is officially off! Sweetie Pie is no longer getting 1959 Lafite Rothschild but last week's Gato Negro. Not only that, we've taken away the Waterford crystal and she's now getting Dixie paper cups. Yes, that's right. Pie Pie has been cut off the bottles of br*eastmilk and forced to drink sippy cups of cow's milk. And she hasn't been happy about it. In fact, I think it would be reasonable to say she's been downright displeased about the whole thing. Well, if that's what how you'd interpert her projectile spitting of milk across the room. Subtle she's not. I'm trying to wean her off of other feeds--we made it a full year after all and I'm ready to take my body back--but she's having none of it. She screams and yells and pouts till she's put on the b*ooB. And then she smiles coyly at me as if, "See, Mom. That wasn't so hard. Just keep the milk flowing and no one gets hurt."

My son was born with an extra Why chromosome. It's the only explanation. And it's MAKING ME CRAZY! This morning he insisted on coming into the bathroom with me (this is the extremely edited down version--the entire conversation was much longer).
Doodles: Do you have a p*enis?
Me: No.
Doodles: Why?
Me: Because I'm a girl. Girls don't have p*enis. Just boys.
Doodles: Why don't girls have p*enises?
Me: Girls have v*aginas.
Doodles: Why do girls have v*aginas.
Me: That's what makes them girls.
Doodles: Does Sweetie have a p*enis?
Me: No. Sweetie is a girl.
Doodles: Does Daddy have a p*enis?
Me: Yes. Daddy is a boy.
Doodles: Why?
Me: Because he has a p*enis.
Doodles: Why does he have a p*enis?
Me: He was born that way.
Doodles: Why was he born that way?
Me: Aaaarg! Can I just finish peeing?
Doodles: Why are you peeing?
I defy you to find a single statement, object, action that doesn't provoke a cascading flow of "Why?"

Pie Pie has no words. But she sings. She sings "Happy Birthday," "ABC" and "Row Row Row Your Boat." And she's this close (fingers very close together) to moving on two feet.

My cell phone has teeth marks in it. 'Nuff said.

Sweetie Pie is a sleeping school drop-out. Oh, she's doing somewhat better. But the great and good Dr. Ferber has said she needs to come back one more time as she's not where she's supposed to be. Today was her first day in the Tiny Tot room at her day care. She's an Infant no more! We're trying to migrate her to one nap a day, with mixed results. Today in the Tiny Tot room, they had song time when a music person from outside the center comes to sing to the kids. Pie Pie was sitting listening to the player. Apparently, he started to sing, "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." Sweetie simply just laid down on the floor... and promptly fell asleep. Of all the genes to inherit from Adam, she had to inherit the "falling asleep at inappropriate times" one? Great.

Because of the switched schedule, today Doodles and I had a special "Mommy/Doodles alone day." Since he's hot for trains, we drove to the next town over to take the commuter rail into the city (better for him than the subway because he can look out the window) and then went to the Museum of Science. We could have skipped the museum and just ridden the train--it's the only part of the day he seems to remember.

Speaking of nodding off inappropriately, I'm starting to slump over the laptop. So you don't get to hear about brunch with Alisa and gang, kite flying, Sweetie Pie's one year check-up and Doodles's third year check-up, my new obsession with wedding reality shows, dinner with Tim and his lovely wife, or the third draft of my novel. Too bad for you! Good night!