Mad Little Monkey

M. and I watched Ape Genius on Nova last night. If anyone reading this has a chance to see it, it was quite fascinating. The show has also introduced the term "monkey chow" into our vocabulary, for better or worse. Anyway, the show drew the connection between toddlers and apes, with the conclusion that apes might just be a tad more advanced than the toddlers.

He he.

And the mad monkeys looked a little like Finn when he's tired and you take something away. The teeth come out and his head dips toward some tender fleshy part of your arm.

That's our mad little monkey.

In a way it makes me feel better to know that toddlers are impulsive, want-driven, selfish creatures whose wrath will turn on whoever or whatever gets in their way. That way I don't expect much more than ape-level behavior out of them, and if we know toddler-Finn's behavior is primitive, M. and I can adjust our interactions to reflect that reality.

I am more and more convinced, perhaps naively, that we can make it through toddlerhood. A brave statement considering that we don't really have one yet.

In the meantime, what do mad little monkeys eat? Why they eat monkey chow. If I work hard at this I can get Finn to ask for monkey chow when he wants to nurse. MONKEY CHOW!!!!

White Dots on Red Throat

It's strep.

Last night my amazing nurse brain decided that if my throat has hurt so badly that I can't eat for several days I should actually look at it. I got the mag light, opened my mouth and proceeded to illuminate my oral cavity and there it was...

Red, red, red and white dots.

I pretended it was something different. I made M. look up other lovely reasons you'd have white dots on your uvula. But I knew in my nurse gut that I didn't have some nasty virus and it would be another round of antibiotics for me.

Not happy. Want to feel better.

I swear that strep throat is a great diet because I can't eat a damn thing without significant pain. Mmmmm...cheese...ouch. Mmmmmm...salami...ouch. Mmmmmm...sushi...ouch. Mmmmmm...strawberry yogurt...ouch. And so on. And what I do eat I have to chew, chew, chew, chew, chew then painfully swallow, so I'm not eating a lot of anything. I'm trying chicken soup and garlic naan tonight.

The tiniest of tiny baby steps toward some zzzzzzz...

It's all about details.

Finn will fall asleep for his naps without very little fuss now. If he flips over when I put him down into his crib, he goes back to sleep instead of pushing up immediately and crying. He has slept three hours in a row for for days straight. He can zone out when he's tired instead of screaming bloody murder.

The three of us slowly dance forward together toward that elusive full night of sleep.

No, he's not sleeping through the night and he's waking between 2 and 4 times to eat. Most people wouldn't put up with what for us is success. I can't focus on the big picture without feeling crazy so I continue to stare at the minutia.

I find on sleep that M. and I regularly come to our breaking point then realize that we haven't been broken and we keep going. Kind of like TTC. Kind of like pregnancy. Kind of like labor. We are so deeply committed to the process that we are willing to accept what would be a substandard outcome for most.

Or maybe we like brick walls and hitting our heads on them.

This makes me think of that wise old sage, Dr. Grandpa. He was right. We are about the details. If we weren't, we'd probably have been pregnant sooner. We may have dumped DtD for someone who could give us better results. We may have put me on clomid way before we even considered it.

And we wouldn't have Finn. You know, I really, really, really like HIM, that particular union of egg and sperm that happened at that particular time. OUR baby. He makes those tiny steps bearable.

Sleep sometimes feels like drawn out labor. One contraction at a time; one night at a time, and both with complete and utter faith that everything will come out okay in the end.

Anxiety

I'm up in the middle of the night because I'm anxious. My throat is raw and my head is stuffed up, so I'm having trouble breathing, and it's taking me back to when we first came home and I kept feeling like I couldn't breathe. I needed M. to talk me through things and calm me down.

But we have a boy to tend to.

I guess it's good that this is the first time I wish I wasn't parenting overnight. I want my bed so I can toss and turn and toss again until I find a spot that's comfortable. Or at least to be able to sleep on the couch but I can't even do that because I have to feed Finn. I want to not be a parent for only 24 hours so I can rest and get this crap out of my body. I want to stop dosing Tylenol every four hours and naproxem on top of that. I want my throat not to be so sore that I can't swallow normal food without pain and my head to just.stop.hurting.

I want to feel like something besides a pathetic whiner.

This is seriously the crapiest crap I've had in a long time and I don't want to go to Dr. G. because she'll give me antibiotics and I'll take them because I just want to feel better, and it seems like I've taken more antibiotics in the last year than I did the previous ten.

A cup of tea then back to bed to try to sleep again. Anxiety sucks.

...and the story continues...

It's funny when you realize that your life has become one where you sit around waiting for your son to poop.

The sick train has not left the station in our house. Seems Finn's charming habit of sticking his fingers in my mouth has left me with some horrible raging virus. After two nights of fevers, I'm feeling marginally better. Dick Cheney has it all wrong with water boarding. A baby could bring the most hardened enemy combatant to his knees through a combination of the common cold and sleep deprivation.

Me and my boy managed to get out for a walk in the sunshine yesterday. Getting some of that all-important vitamin D that the PNW so dearly lacks. We stopped for lunch and then I bought some birthday wrapping paper. Yes, BIRTHDAY, as in FIRST BIRTHDAY. It's less than five weeks away. I honestly can't believe it.

We made it, people! Well, almost there.

Finn's birthday means Spring and Summer, warmer days, more sunlight, and the end of the long winter. I love that. We're not sure when we'll jump back onto the TTC train, but for sure it won't be until the fall. So this will be the first summer where we won't be TTC, pregnant or adjusting to a newborn. I won't be in school. I won't be taking the NCLEX. I won't be startnig a new job. For the first time in YEARS M. and I will have nothing to do but enjoy each others company and enjoy being a family.

Now, time to do the time-honored butt sniff to see if my son has finally pooped so we can settle down for our morning nap.

Time

I've been thinking a lot about where we came from lately. I mean where M. and I were a year ago when I was uncomfortable and not working and freaking out because M. got laid off. Back when we still had all those romantic notions of parenthood and mommy-ness. Then the shock of labor and delivery and that tiny little boy who turned everything upside down and shook our world into pieces.

It seems really, really far away. At the time it felt like I would never, ever forget those feelings and experiences and now I just don't really remember that well. It's good because it's hard to be stuck in that state of shock. But it's bad because M. and I have both lost that little baby that we held all the time, the one I blearily fed in the middle of the night, the one that was pulled into this world with is eyes wide open and we just had no idea that meant trouble.

I want that time back. Maybe just a half hour or half day. A little time to have my baby again. Then I'll go back to my pretoddler who thinks sticking his fingers in my mouth is the funniest thing in the entire world and who destroys any order in our house on a daily basis. Because no matter how much I miss my baby, I love the little boy he's becoming.

Hot Potato, Sweet Tomato

Our boy is sick. The sickest I've seen him yet and it's been taking over our lives, so I apologize for being a bit lazy about blogging.

We have our very first ear infection.

Finn has been running a temp since Sunday. It sucks because our little sweet tomato has become a little hot potato. We've been sleeping with him stripped down to dipe and cover because he's just so hot. I've been calling Seattle Children's consult RN line to find out exactly when we need to become concerned. Sick baby = NO FUN!

The conversation last night with the consult RN went a little like this.

Me: We've been alternating Motrin and Tylenol and his fever isn't coming that far down.

Consult RN: Did your pediatrician tell you to do that?

Me: No.

Consult RN: Well, we don't recommend doing that.

Me: I feel comfortable with what I'm doing with his medications.

Consult RN: You should call your pediatrician in the morning, especially since you've been alternating Motrin and Tylenol.

Me: Thank you but I know my son and I'm doing what is best for his pain control.

Okay Nurse Nasty. Seems that not all of us really Dare to Care.

And that, peeps, is why I'm not a peds nurse. #1 because truthfully, I don't want to deal with myself - a bitchy, stressed out, parent and #2 because I hate some of the sanctimonious attitudes I run into at Seattle Children's. I didn't ask Nurse Nasty to judge how I'm treating my child, I just needed to know whether or not to bring him into the emergency room.

He screamed from 7 pm to 10 pm last night and he and I ended up sitting in the living room watching Frasier because it was the only thing that distracted him. Then he fell asleep on my shoulder. My poor sweet lovey boy.

A 104.6 temp, one sick call to work and a visit to Dr. G. later, Finn is on antibiotics and maybe only 50% miserable. I want my boy back.

Weekend Cuteness: Tiny Club Boy

Waif, originally uploaded by Sacha Digi.

I adore this hat!

Back off, Baby Mia!!!

M., Finn and I went to visit my friend L. today and her two week old baby, Mia. She was early and had some weight loss issues, so she's just this little bundle who just lies sweetly in your arms. M. was so excited to hold a newborn. Finn just crawled around and checked out everything. All was calm. Until...

I held Baby Mia.

Seems Finn feels a little protective of his food source. Me holding Baby Mia resulted in a crying fit, after which Finn proceeded to glare at Mia, as if to say "back off, bitch". I was holding her in cradle position and I guess she just got a bit too close to the boob. Considering that Finn has been using my boobs as chew toys way too much lately, I'm surprised he was feeling that possessive.

I looked at M. and we were both having the same exact thought. How the hell is our boy going to adjust to a sibling. I suspect not very well.

Not Even a Week Later...New Car!

We have a new car.

It's a new-to-us car. We bought it from a dealer. The dealer's digs were amazing in themselves. It's this huge complex. You go in and you can sit and watch TV, drink soda, coffee, hot cocoa or bottled water, eat cookies and they even have a play room for the kids.

The play room was a good thing considering we were there for seven hours. It seems like every time we buy a car it takes forever and we both end up starving by the end of the day. Finn was a trooper and despite not having his regular afternoon nap, didn't break down until the very end of the day. Our boy is awesome.

The stats. 2003 Saab 9-5 ARC wagon. Brown exterior, tan leather interior, both in excellent shape. It both warms and cools your ass. Six cylinder turbo engine for all those Seattle soccer mom drag races in the industrial sector on Sunday nights. Our car seat looks nice in it...I know, really important. It may bankrupt us with the repairs. It's as total mom car and fucking sweet.

It's funny because after all my complaining, both M. and I were kind of sad to see the Neon go. It's been our car for almost ten years. It gave us a good seven years. It was purple. It's traded in and gone now. ::sigh::

The fam is borderline sick, hungry and really tired. I'll post pics when we can.

Ten Months (yesterday)

Finn turned ten months yesterday. TEN MONTHS!

I swear that it takes another nine months to start crawling out of the chasm that having a baby leaves in your life. M. and I are finally starting to move toward functional WITH a baby. Except our baby really isn't our baby any more. He's our little pre-toddler. It's sad in a way but he's so AWESOME that I can't be too sad about it.

So, my favorite Finn things are...

He laughs with us. M. and I will be driving along and laughing about something and out of the back seat will come this little "ha ha". Our boy has a sense of humor!

He shares. Now he will try to give his bottle to M., even sticking it in her mouth. Then he laughs at her. He gives us his toys. He feeds M. Cheerios and toast off his plate. It's so sweet.

He says "mama" and "mum" and we're pretty sure it's in context of us.

He kicks his legs when he wants more and thinks that the word "more" means "open your mouth, silly, I'm about to shovel food into it".

He drinks from a cup. For some reason he doesn't use a sippy cup but we have this really small plastic cup and he grabs it and drinks from it, barely spilling any!

He talks to strangers. We'll be out and all of the sudden he's talking to someone, trying to get their attention.

He's sweet. When we breastfeed in bed, he strokes my arm or my belly, and if he is feeding while we are all in bed together, he'll put his free arm behind him and reach out for M. then they hold hands.

He's still challenging. He's an intense child and requires a lot of time and energy. His sleep is crap. When he melts down he's totally overwhelmed and unreachable, and it's really hard as a parent to have to hold your child through his trauma without being able to resolve it. We take it a day at at time and they seem to be getting better in general. I like to think that we are a good match for our mecurial, fantastic, intense, passionate child.

We love our boy. Our almost one year old boy.

The Car Saga Continues

Thank you everyone. No offense to anyone who owns one, but I have always had a distrust of Fords and it seems it may be justified.

After a lot of tears and drama on my part, we have a loan. It's a good loan. It's enough to buy something that will work. It has probably the best interest rate we've ever gotten on anything. We're officially taking on more debt. I'll officially be working more overtime. Ah well.

M. and I were up into the wee hours...well wee hours for us...11:30...looking at cars. We've found a couple we're interested in...they're both 2001 Saab wagons with not too many miles. I'm going to send my father to take a look at one today. If those don't prove to be okay, we'll probably go for a similarly aged Volkswagon Jetta wagon.

We have a friend's car that we're borrowing indefinately but I think we'll take care of this on Tuesday.

Okay, I admit it...after the shock wore off, I'm excited. We've been driving the crap-ass amythyst pearl Dodge Neon long enough to seriously resent the beast. When Stacey and Angele bought their new car there was sadness and mourning the moving on of the Echo. If I could set our car on fire, I would. Then I would be sad that it was burnt to a crisp only because it would mean I couldn't set it on fire again.

Goodbye crap-ass car. I'll kick your tires on your way out.