Warmer Weather and Photo Catch Up

A few warm days have let us try out the Christmas gift from Grampa Lloyd (or Grampa Louie as he's known in preschool) and Granmary: a beautiful Radio Flyer wagon. Although the initial reaction seemed a bit lackluster, the kids are loving it. Today Noodle was humming as Q pulled her along (and this was after a meltdown). So Q pulled her down to see the horses down the street.

Noodle let out a piercing terrified scream upon seeing the horse. Not a pleasant surprise. She calmed down while I held her, but let's just say that's not where *she* wants to go for fun.

Below you can see how we came back, all up hill.


As you can see, Noodle now has four teeth.


And this is how she uses them:


But her most terrifying new potential was exhibited outside just this afternoon.

She can stand briefly without assistance, by which I mean for about the count of ten, rather than simply an alarming second or two. She had trouble getting the push toy to work outside (the lawn was too rough, but the street too smooth), but yesterday she surprised me by walking with it, unassisted, across the living room. She might get interested in walking again.

Snippets

Today I heard Noodle fussing as I was trying to pull together dinner for the kids. Q starts talking to her, and I leaned in to watch. He took her hands and started rocking back and forth with her, singing, "Row Row Row Your Boat" (a game I've played with them). Forgetting the words, he improvised his own as she laughed with delight.

Noodle often laughs on seeing someone she likes- especially Q. As she stood at the stair gate, banging it back and forth, she spotted him at the bottom of the stairs and kept laughing as he climbed all the way up.

The other night I was at a Preschool Forum and heard that at a year children know (can't say, but understand) about 100 words. Contemplating this, we figure Noodle must have 50 plus, right? But which words does she know?

Yesterday we looked at the bargain end of season clothes that J picked up at OshKosh outlets. One had a cat on it and I said, "Aw, a kitty!" Noodle, on my lap, points at Savannah (the mean cat).

We've tried little tests, "Noodle, get the hat!" She picks up the hat. "Noodle, get the book!" She picks up the hat. (The hat is new and exciting.) I'm sure she knows our names, but you couldn't tell by the way she responds to anything other than her own name. I think she knows what, "Come here!" means, but when you have a test subject who responds to a request when she has the whim, well, you get unreliable results.

Q has been genius good lately. He's set aside his acute interest in learning to read for the moment. Imaginative play seems to have taken its place. We listened to the trucks interacting with different voices, a normal Q saying, "Can you get out of the way?" Gruff voice, "No." Tiny voice responds for another truck explaining that he'd have to go around. Today he let me nap while he played trucks, for two hours. He's unreasonably good.

Easter Photos: Lessons

I decided that after months of chasing annoying plastic eggs around my house last year, I was going to learn my lesson. This Easter I was going to decorate real eggs and that Q would love to help. What I learned a little too late is that you should buy white eggs if you are going to dye them. Nonetheless. It was a fun project and Q loved it.


After finding the hidden eggs this morning, Q immediately wanted them hidden for another hunt. The second round Noodle got to help (she woke up). As you can see, she found one Q missed (in the other shoe) and is trying to get his attention.



Other lessons learned this weekend. I set Noodle down on the floor next to a sleepy J. When I came back, this is what I found:

It took a while to get the kleenex out of her mouth...

Her third tooth has emerged, but Number 4 is just under the gum next to it. She's a good sport, but having trouble falling asleep.

She's showing a strong appreciation for the people she likes. When she wants someone particular and they either come into the room, or pick her up, she laughs with delight. She's determined to get what - or who - she wants.

She's hard to resist.

Sweetness

Noodle is teething. Again. I thought it was simply tooth number 2 working its way up, but this evening I caught a glimpse of tooth number 3 on top. A corner has barely pushed its painful way through, and the rest lurks, or rather, bulges, under the surface.

She's not sleeping that well. Basically she wants to be held until she's absolutely exhausted. (sigh) But since there's been only one night with out and out screaming, I'm feeling less overwhelmed.

Tonight I pulled her out of her not-yet-bedtime crib and brought her upstairs, hoping that if I bribed her with yet more warm milk, she'd find sleep irresistible.

J was reading to Q about vehicles on our bed, so I joined them. After a few minutes, I realized that as Q chattered away, he was leaning his cheek into Noodle's soft copper hair. So sweet. Then he just blew me away.

"You are the bestest guwurl ever Noodle," he announced.

Sharing the Pain and the Glory

Lately (as in, twice before and again today) we have taken Q to a place called Kidz Kutz to get his hair cut. I know, just the name alone is enough reason not to go there. But they have 'vehicles' for kids to sit in while they get trimmed. And videos to watch. And tolerant hair stylists.

The first time, it worked marvelously well. The kid got a really good haircut and a lollypop. I avoided wielding a pair of scissors near my child's head while he screamed and flailed. I didn't even mind that he only whimpered for the stylist.

The second time didn't go as well. He seemed enthusiastic about the vehicles, but then once the trimming started, he began to wail and I had to hold his head still several times for her to whack back the foliage. Worse, his sister woke up and I was holding an unhappy Noodle on one hip, while bracing his head with my chin and arm.

He was due in for another cut, and I decided to beg J to take him in. Sometimes he behaves better if I'm not there. Sometimes. And, I figured at least if he (that is, J) had a traumatic time, he'd be sympathetic next time, even if he wanted to avoid it.

Didn't go so hot. J's words to describe it included: loud, crying, and fetal position.

They finally had J sit in a chair (not a vehicle), with a smock, then had Q sit in his lap, with a smock, and then they buzzed him. He did get different lengths on the sides and top (deliberately), and it looks great, but when I asked him about it he said, "Mommy, don't talk."

J and I agreed that after what would probably be a traumatic event, Q should get a trip somewhere special. I had a sudden stroke of genius and suggested the Chester Airport (see the plane?).

It was a huge hit.

Here's a better look at the haircut.

At the last moment he began bargaining for me to trim his hair at home, then for me to take him for the hair cut, so I bribed him with the job of helping J pick out sandwiches for us. This sweetened the deal enough to get him into the car without tears or lugging. And the happy result for me was an invitation to join them at the airport for a picnic. So I packed up the Noodle, who'd just woken up from a long lovely nap, and drove the 5 minutes to meet them.


It turns out that Noodle doesn't like sudden loud noises. A plane taking off nearly had her in hysterics. I apologized for not warning her. This was the second time in two days that she's been startled by a loud noise (the first by a neighbor's dog barking, only a foot or two away), and has responded with terrified screaming. She's so mellow most of the time that I forget that she can be surprised unpleasantly.

Alas, unlike the small airport of my childhood town, there does not seem to be a place to purchase ice cream while you watch the planes. Sorry Dad.

Report cards

Since Q flunked one of his physicals as a baby, I tend to view them as a report card. As such, Noodle passed with flying colors and great news. She’s gained two lbs and at nine months is now a whole (gasp) 15 lbs, 15.5 oz. That is, about 16 lbs for those of us who have trouble with English measurements. Still right on the same growth chart continuum: 10-25th%, right where she ought to be.

To put her size in perspective, speaking with a friend last night, I found out that her 4 month old son is nineteen pounds.

Her hemoglobin levels are fine so she can now drink whole milk. I’m stoked- no more formula! Also, since we don’t have food allergies, she’s been cleared for pretty much all soft food in cheerio sized chunks (except nuts and honey). So she’s been plunged into new foods immediately: pasta and veggie sausage with red sauce (I think the spice upset her once, I wasn’t thinking), and eggs, bananas (not mashed!), chopped up pear, and of course her cheerios. Dr also says things cooked with honey are fine, just no raw honey.

When stripped of the cumbersome jammies, she can crawl pretty fast now. She may even discard the notion that walking would be more effective for her goals.

Oh boy!

Noodle is happily chowing down on anything we give her these days. I actually took two photos of this- with two separate cheerios.

Several times I've gone in to get the wailing girl from her crib, only to discover she has managed to trap herself. Twice she was trying to stand and when she slipped, her legs stuck out between the rails of the crib, trapping her. This morning when I went to pick her up, she was flat on her back, holding onto the top rail, as if for dear life. A child who doesn't know how to let something go. I'm sure it's not genetic.

This weekend we did a brief tour of the town's Winter Carnival. Pretty much every town event is marked with a tractor parade. We didn't stay for the parade (I'm a wimp, I was cold), but Q scored big time.

To get an appreciation of the scale, here's another photo.


Q rapidly shifts from being a pesty big brother (poking, ramming, rolling, grabbing) to being an incredibly sweet and instructive big brother. Below is a rotten photo of him helping Noodle ride his trike. This is a pure Noodle grin, so I can't resist sharing.

Personally Noodle's 9 month mark has come with a sad end. Due to my own mistake of not asking enough questions, I am no longer nursing her, not even the twice a day which I was feeling was a slacker nursing strategy. After being told that the mini-pill wasn't effective enough birth control if I was only nursing twice a day, I switched to a regular dose pill. I wasn't paying close attention this week since Noodle was teething and failed to realize that my milk was drying up. When she hadn't nursed three days in a row, I finally figured out the problem. At this point only extreme intervention would reinstate my milk, and frankly, while I'm disappointed, I am not willing to take the necessary steps. So a choice in the end. I think I'd be more sad if she weren't a cuddly little baby, but comforting her has always been easy, and rarely has she asked to nurse for comfort.

This morning I whisked together some formula for her to suck down while I attempted to doze a few more minutes in bed with her. Upon seeing the bottle she actually chortled with delight. I think I can get over it.

Mobility

Noodle did it! She finally managed to figure out how to make forward progress in crawling this morning. Motivated by the possibility of snagging Q's markers, and freed from the hindering effects of her jammies, she managed to get her knees under her and push forward. Very satisfying.

Now we have to babyproof this place.

Nine Month Mark

Noodle turned nine months old today. She's been busy lately. Now she can:
Wave in response (When she feels like it);
Feed Mommy a cheerio (and herself, of course);
Stand on her own for approximately half a second;
Crawl backwards into tables (where she gets stuck and screams with frustration);
Asks to be picked up by lifting her arms when I say, "Up?";
Show off and run her tongue over her new tooth (tooth number two is playing coy); and
Clap her hands together where she then contemplates how the heck are they supposed to come apart to actually accomplish clapping.

She's still a remarkably good natured baby, when she isn't crabbing about crawling or the new tooth that hasn't come in yet. She's hit the stage where she's just plain old adorable almost all the time, amusing to watch, cuddly to hold, and able to get into trouble that wouldn't occur to me. (From her exersaucer the other day, she managed to dump a large quantity of papers and then snagged a photo of someone else's baby to gnaw on.)

Perhaps her absolutely most darling moment this week was when J came home a little late on Monday night. She was exhausted, but her gums were bothering her and she wanted to be held. When J came into the den where I was passively cuddling her to sleep, she looked up and saw Daddy. Holding her arms out, she did a clear 'up' request to him. So sweet. She fell asleep in his arms, safe and sound.

Breaking Things

My children are attempting to see how many consecutive nights one or both of them can wake me up. I'm not sure what the count is up to at this point, but I know I'm not winning.

The past two nights have been tough. Noodle finally persuaded me that if she insists that she needs to be held, she probably is actually in discomfort. So I've held her while dozing on the couch. This is not actually the same as sleep. Sleep gives you a glorious feeling of restedness. Or some similar word I used to know before I was so sleep deprived that I can only manage to whimper when my husband cracks jokes.

Today I brought the kids in to the doctor on a 'just in case' visit. They, and I, have a minor cold, to which I was attributing Noodle's unhappiness. Of course tomorrow we're getting on a plane, so we hit the doctor to make sure they don't have ear infections. (We'll let it remain a mystery whether I have one.)

Sitting and chatting with the doctor, I look down and right in front of my eyes, springs up Noodle's first tooth. I swear. Except I'm sleep deprived and seriously unreliable.

No ear infections. But at least one more burgeoning tooth in there.

Q is beside himself with excitement about the plane trip. He wanted to help me pack, which he did by sitting on the bed and looking at his transportation book and discussing different types of planes and other air transport. He would like to take a plane that lands on a river next time. We also discussed, briefly, tickets, which I realized are a fairly alien concept to a three year old.

He's now snuggled into bed, with visions of airplanes whizzing through his head. May we all rest well. Tomorrow will definitely be another big adventure.

Hard to keep up

Noodle is able to spin in circles on her stomach now. She's once again able to flip over, even both directions, but only when motivated. Otherwise she simply tells us she's ticked off. More importantly, she is absolutely thrilled because she can pull herself up to a standing position, if all the stars are aligned and she's right next to an object that allows her to pull up.

Q is making us blink and try not to make too big a deal about reading. He spelled out "d-o" for J and said "What is d-o? That's on Do Not Enter." The word 'book' is appearing everywhere now they he can sight read it.

Someone's Little Girl

Just said her first word.

Yesterday, after several days of babbling this, Noodle looked at J and said, "da-da."
Then she did it again. And again. Looking him dead on.

Now for those of you skeptics who say that a) she's babbling or b) she's entering the stage where she indiscriminately calls everyone and everything ma-ma and da-da, let me reassure you: I don't care. Her first word is Da-da and she said it yesterday for the first time at just over 8 months.

Snippets

Noodle has graduated to finger foods. Finally given access to cheerios, she scrabbled her fingers around on the tray, trying to pick one up. Finally, she gets one into her fist and crams it in her mouth, fingers flailing. Her hand departs and she looked at us bewildered. The cheerio is cheerfully stuck, perpendicular, on her lip.

She's become a little pro now, happily chasing cheerios and stars around her tray, muttering with effort, then cooing as they hit her mouth. Grandma Sherry pointed out that she hums as she eats, which, once you notice it, is quite amusing. Spoon it in, listen to the hum. Spoon it in, listen to the hum. You can tell when she needs another bite because she starts complaining, "Rah, rah, rah, RAH, RAH, RAH!" Spoon it in. "Hmmmm."

Sadly, the cheerio stage is seriously detrimental for my already weak housekeeping skills. There are cheerios everywhere. Since they stick to clothing (once licked at least), they can be carried like fleas into all corners of the house. Dried and stepped on, they result in tiny piles of cheerio sand. No one pile is that problematic, but the overall situation is out of hand, and unlikely to be addressed anytime soon.

On other fronts: Q relocated his wrench, left outside. Applying it to J's shop door, he declares, "I'm a good doer!"

And so he is. He's happily attempting to reassemble Excavator, taking pleasure in figuring out what part each metal shred once belonged to.

Alas, Poor Yorick

Excavator is Q's best friend, only slightly less beloved than Blankie. Excavator has been missing since November. At first I was convinced that Excavator was simply misplaced, perhaps at Grandma's in a closet. Or hiding under a couch. But as time passed, I became more and and more concerned. Excavator didn't reappear. I scoured the house. I scoured the cars. I asked at Preschool, just in case one of the Rules was broken and Excavator went somewhere other than Home, Cars and Grandma's. Nothing.

This afternoon I was thinking about Excavator again. We'd tried to replace him at Christmas, with the thought that if we did, the original Excavator would reappear. Sadly, Excavator was sold out at all the toy stores around. But today is lovely and we were playing outside. Perhaps Excavator was left in a garden bed with the mulch...

Then I spotted it, a small scrap of yellow metal. I bent down. It was part of toy. A metal construction toy. My eyes widened. More scraps appeared. I felt like I'd discovered a pet, its carcass now worn to the bone and scattered by wild animals. Excavator had been smashed and broken by the large machines used to chop up and rake the autumn leaves.


Q wanted me to post a photo of broken Excavator, but luckily for my aching heart, the camera is broken too.

We will replace Excavator. But I suspect that no replacement will be as beloved.
Good-bye Excavator. We loved you well.

Short and Boasty

Q cracked me up Tuesday. I could practically see the cogs working as he figured things out. He drew a cursive E on the dry erase board and told me it was a 3. I explained that E went the other way, but if he came over to where I was standing (it was on the floor) it *was* a 3. He alternated: “E!” “3!” a few times, then came to the side and said, “What is it from this side?”

I wasn’t paying attention.

“From this side it’s an M!”

I snapped to attention. “You’re right!”

And then he walked to the other side, “What is it from this side?” “What do you think?” “a W!”

He made a happy little hop of confidence and discovery.

I think we're about to see a big leap in abilities.

Sleep Deprived Parent Seeks Nyquil and Blackout Curtains

I regret to say that while the children have been adorable, there has been a serious sleep deficit lately. The more sleep I lose, the less I can recall. What I faintly recall from last weekend, is that they've been tag teaming me. As soon as one child seemed to be more or less (or not at all, actually) settled back into bed, the other one wailed from their room. After two nights of this, we went to visit the Massachusetts Grandparents. They kindly took the kids off our hands while we tried to recover some sleep. Noodle was seriously damaging her image as the happy-go-lucky baby, screaming and insisting that only Mommy would do. Finally she managed to poop, and magically turned lovely again. Photo here is, obviously, after her recovery.

So I'm losing memories faster than I can observe them, but this is a posting of the few bits I can still scrape together.

Noodle- at seven months old, she's still pretty limited in variety, but she's lovely to cuddle, and amusing to watch:

* Contemplating a pacifier, picks it up, considers it, tries to put it into her mouth, only to hit another pacifier. Clunk. She reconsiders the pacifier again, turns it a bit, tries again. Clunk.

* Sharing a bath with Q, slapping the water, then happily slapping the back and limbs of her brother when he lies down next to her.

* She can now unreliably sit up on her own, and looks absolutely delighted with herself.

* She reliably loves her Noodle Theme Song and will quiet down almost any time I sing it to her.

Q - He is CONSTANTLY TESTING US. I am gritting my teeth a lot. But I'm also really amazed by how much he's picking up on lately:

* Looking at a book ("Knuffle Bunny Too") asks if this is the motory. (Actual photo is of a rotary.) I point out the New York City skyline and tell him that's where his Uncle Ralph lives. He says, "And maybe Aunt Marilyn." They evidently made an acute impression on their visit last month.

* When J sat down at the other end of the blue couch, "That is not a good place to sit. You should sit here." Pats the spot next to himself.

* I put him to bed one night at his usual time, about 6:45. At 8, I went upstairs and spot a light on in his room. I assume he fell asleep with the light on, and slip in to turn it off. Bright eyed, he looks up at me from the Paddington Bear book he is reading, "Mommy will you read this to me?" I crack up and give up any notion that I am going to scold him. (Sneaking a book to read in bed at 3 years old seems pretty darn funny to me.) Since then I have bribed him with books on his sleepless nights, he's allowed to read in bed and I'll turn off the light when I come to bed later.

* He can now accurately sing the alphabet song, as long as you don't like the letter "E".

* He is writing his name fairly reliably- enough that we got a Christmas card from Preschool with his signature. Perhaps they've been practicing without mentioning it?

* Those are simple examples of his obsession with words and letters and numbers. He frequently asks questions such as, "What does sponge start with a-?" "And what comes after S?" And so on. Soon he's going to start asking about words I can't spell without writing down. The advent calendars have been advancing his understanding of double digits. Triple digits (seen in the index of his poetry book) still thwart him.

* I told him "I love you" the other day. He replies, "Yeah, you do."

We're bracing ourselves for Christmas. Last year, Q was rapidly overwhelmed by the holiday and we simply hid all but a few gifts and then parceled them out slowly over several days. I think he'll be a little calmer this year, but he can actually anticipate the holiday, which is definitely asking for a full blown Christmas Meltdown. Whether his or ours is yet to be seen.

Mystic Adventure

A few weeks ago, my mil had a really great idea for a Q adventure which we implemented this past Friday. She dropped Q and me off at the Old Saybrook train station, where we picked up the Boston bound train. We traveled by train to Mystic, CT, where she met us at the train station with Noodle, and then the four of us went to the Mystic Aquarium, and then travelled home by car.

It was a fabulous adventure. Q was really thrilled by the train station, the train, and the train ride. He sat on my lap and commented on everything and everyone and was good as gold the whole way: his absolutely sweetest 3 year old self. I wanted to ride all the way to Boston.

Settling Q down for the night, I have a new list of soothing techniques: Christmas carols, imagery of the moon, lying down next to him in bed and smoothing his soft cheek. Thursday night I included a long description of Friday's adventure, hoping to enlist his assistance in getting ready early. (No luck with that, by the way.) Tonight he interrupted my description of the moon and asked me to tell him about our train adventure again.

He loved the train.

The aquarium was really fun. The beluga whales would pop into view as if playing a game of hide and go seek and we couldn't help but laugh with delight. Even if you knew they'd come back around, they'd still feel like a wonderful surprise.

We also saw a 14 lb lobster (larger than Noodle I believe), glow in the dark fish, sharks, jelly-fish, bats, piranhas, sea lions and penguins. We managed to hold back and just let Q explore without worrying about seeing everything or whether we'd catch the sea lion show or fish feedings. Q was generally giddy with excitement, which was lovely to see, even if it did bode ominously for his melt-down potential.

One of my favorite moments from the aquarium came from Noodle, however. I had pulled her out of the car seat, changed her, and was carrying her around hoping she wouldn't spit out her pacifier into the touch tank. Sitting down by one of the spiny lobsters, I held her so she could stand (still her favorite activity) and look into the tank. One lobster noted the easy pickings and scrambled over eagerly to attempt to eat her. She bobbled around, unfocused, but perhaps seeing the lobster, when we heard Q laugh from around the corner. Noodle's head whipped around with the biggest smile, trying to locate her brother.

She loves that boy.

Sleepy Head and Lazy Bones

Q has developed new bedtime rituals. I don't know all the rules yet, but some of them are very important and he will tear up and start sobbing if thwarted. A week and a few days into Noodle's new schedule, we are starting to get a rhythm. All of which is liable for modification on any given night.

4:15 Noodle eats her solid food dinner.

5:00 Noodle takes her pre bath nap. Sometimes. Q and I eat dinner. If J is here, all the schedule goes awry, but at least there are two of us to endure the tantrums. If Q remembers, he begs for a piece of his Halloween candy. Yep. He still has some. I'm not sure if it's because I'm mean and didn't let him have free rein, or if it's because J and I decided to try to lose weight this fall. Of course, many nights he doesn't remember it exists. He's only three. It won't last.

Tonight, because I managed to feed us all before 5 (this might have been desperate or sensible, I'm not sure which), I let Q watch 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas'.

Q informed me, "He's not being polite to that dog!" Noodle smiled gleefully as I rocked her side to side with the Christmas choir that transforms the Grinch's heart just by singing.

5:30 We go upstairs for Noodle's bath. Often I lug both children because Q has gotten sad and manipulative. Or, alternately, because he is melting down.

5:35 Noodle's bath. She now must be bathed in the bigger tub, although I have a small tub to set inside it. She'd still fit into the sink, but she is capable of turning on the hot water faucet, not to mention that all her splashing was starting to deteriorate the wood siding of the sink.

This is one of the most delightful activities of the day. Noodle grins and chortles throughout, splashing now with her hands as well as her feet. Q often comes over and makes loud obnoxious noises which she finds endlessly amusing, and sometimes even giggles at.

5:40 Noodle is dried off, Q hops into her bathwater. I don't know why, but he really wants to bathe in her bath. Noodle is dressed in her jammies and read a couple of books while Q sits in the water and hypothetically gets clean. Realistically he's taking a washcloth and commenting on how the tub needs cleaning and applying vast quantities of liquid baby soap to all tub surfaces he can reach. Noodle gets nursed or a bottle or both.

5:50 (or earlier) Q hops out of the tub after draining it. He gets his own towel. If he is not allowed to do these two tasks, there is a meltdown. He comes to our bed where I am feeding Noodle, making loud noises and then begs to be picked up and put on the bed. He is dried off and assisted into his jammies, usually with only a few threatening noises.

5:55 We read as many books or stories as Q can persuade me is necessary. Q is now a huge fan of Winnie the Pooh so some of the stories are quite long and Q loses interest. And luckily for me, doesn't follow quite well enough to notice when I read only one sentence on a page and move on.

6:25 I put Noodle down somewhere safe (like the bassinet she's outgrown) and carry Q to bed, singing his sleepy little baby song. I give him ten kisses and tell him I love him and good night. If I somehow miss an important statement, there will be tears immediately after the door is shut. If the ocean is not on, there will be wails. If Q forgets to say I love you and good night and air kiss at me, there will be sobbing.

6:38 I pick up the wailing Noodle and go downstairs to put her to bed, singing the Noodley N Song.

6:38 and 30 seconds Q opens his door and announces he has to use the potty.

6:45 I return upstairs to find a naked Q wandering around the bathroom, unrepentant. I help him onto the potty. I fix up his toothbrush, and heck, one for me. He washes his hands and brushes his teeth. He is reinserted into his jammies. He runs to his bed and begs me to bring Blankie, abandoned in the bathroom. Blankie is absolutely necessary, and if Blankie is not evident, for some unknown reason, like it is hiding by his feet, there will be heart wrenching wails.

7:00 There is an odd silence in the house. Yesterday, when J and I were both home for once, we turned to each other puzzled. How late is it? It feels like it must be 9 or 10. Suddenly I have hours of solo adult time open before my own bed time to do grown up activities, like, empty the dishwasher. Hunt for the address book. Pay the oil bill. Update my blog before my father comments that I'm slacking.

The All Screaming Sleep Solution

Last Saturday marked our third visit to the doctor for Nuala in less than a week.

Monday: ear infection. Kept me up enough of the night that I wanted to harm someone and hoped it would be me.

Tuesday: 6 month well baby check up. Baby is well. (Ears still red.) 13 lbs 10 oz.

Saturday: nothing wrong except my parenting. Ears no longer red. N weighs 13 lbs 14.5 oz. She kept me up enough of the night that I suspect I was going to harm someone and the most likely victim was the porcelain I was grinding off my teeth.

She’s biting me. BITING me. Hard. With no teeth. She is probably teething, but there’s nothing more traumatic at 2 am than trying to soothe an unhappy baby by nursing her and getting bit hard on the nipple.

So no more nursing for comfort for a while (ever?).

The kindly nurse also told me that at 6 months there were developmental milestones she was hitting and she was probably waking to practice, and waking to check on the location of her minions, and making sure they did her bidding at any moment. Well, okay, that’s my interpretation. Still. I am so unhappy with the quantity and quality of sleep I’ve gotten lately that I am about three inches from the end of my frayed rope.

When Q was just slightly older than this, we adapted a Ferber strategy and within a week he was not only sleeping through the night, falling asleep on his own, but cranked his bedtime back from 8:30 to 7:30. We barely knew what to do with the evening to ourselves. (We figured it out.) So it’s time to do this with kid 2. And if you think I’m cruel, I’ll call you up at 2:30 am next time she wakes and screams for an hour and you can talk me through my suicidal thoughts and call social services on the other line to protect this child.

So we're on Night 6 of the All Screaming Sleep Solution, and it's going alarmingly well. The first night was absolutely awful, but, in truth, it was not much worse than the nights when she'd simply start screaming at me for whatever reason that I could not determine at 3 am. At least I knew why she was upset. She screamed for approximately 5 hours (in shifts). Brutal.

Nights 2-4 saw approximately 30 minutes of screaming. Night 5 had less than 10 minutes. Tonight had about 30. She's been waking about 5:30 in the morning, but since she's already been asleep about 11 hours, how can I really blame her? I'm trying to coax her to sleep another 30 to 60 minutes... and maybe I'll get my way. Or maybe not.

(Photo is of N in an outfit selected by Q. J suggested Q get to pick out N's clothes for all future dates.)

Theater Widow

We haven't seen much of J lately. We've missed him. But now that the first play (there are three he's featured in) has been performed, we're figuring out what we need to do so that we won't miss him so much during the next one.

The play was terrific- a recently written trilogy (the first: "Last Train to Nibroc") about a couple during World War II. An audience member behind me described it beautifully as, "like watching a classic film." It's funny- which is good, since J is funny. And romantic- which is bad because he's too convincing at being romantic and it makes me want to hit him. The second play in the trilogy by Arlene Hutton is slated to be performed in February ("See Rock City"), followed by the third in May ("Gulf View Drive"). See: The New Main Street Theater

A week later we're still hashing and rehashing how the performances went. I saw two of the three performances, and, if I accept J's judgment, missed the best one. But I've been running lines with J since September (that's helping him learn his lines by reading the other lines) and listening to him discuss the issues faced by the characters to the point where it's a little hard to remember that they weren't real people. J keeps shaking his head in disappointment that he won't get to perform "The Last Train to Nibroc" again.

When I met J, he was a theater major. His concentration was in directing. But after the first year we dated (his last year of college), his involvement with theater was miniscule. This role is huge. Perhaps in a small theater, in a small town, but this is an area with a lot of support for theater, and with high expectations and standards.

Reading the lines with J, I watched him develop the meaning behind the words until they made sense. The first time I heard JR running lines for her character, I had to hide my smile because she'd breathed life into them that I hadn't felt in simply reading the script. I wanted to cheer, "Yes! That's what May would sound like!"

What I had never realized about acting, especially in a play like this, with only two characters, is the amount of intense trust required between actors. They're on a trapeze, and if they fly off their swing, they have to trust that their partner is there to catch them. If they miss a line or cue, they rely on the other actor to think fast- extending their hands to catch the unexpected release. They are lost, or saved, together on the stage.

It was unnerving to watch the first night of performance. I saw it happen: a missed line that led them to the wrong set of cues. And then, I saw them catch each other and swing back into place.

The weeks leading up to the performance were tough on us. J has been working, trading off on child care with me, and rehearsing every chance he got. I was getting up early with the kids, working, taking back the kids, and staying up late to see J before falling asleep. (J's line: Milking the cow on both ends.) And the day I found out that they'd decided the play called for a kiss was a very, very bad day for me.

Also hard was the simple fact that J was charging off to rehearse, full of energy, passion and happiness. Other women were sharing all of his enthusiasm and attention. Not to mention that he was awake. Actually, hard doesn't really begin to scratch it. I was home alone with the kids feeling boring, cranky, jealous and lonely.

Within a marriage, we are also trapeze artists, trusting that when we let go, our partner is there to catch us. Trusting that our relationship is more important than one skirmish or point. One fact always remained clear to me. This is the first time, in our entire marriage, that I have ever seen J genuinely happy.

And in that moment of the first performance, as she grabbed his hand and drug him to safety, my heart eased and I could have kissed her myself.