Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Does it Feel Like We're Going in Circles?

Hello out there!  If anyone is still out there.  Sorry I have been missing in action.  Between trips to the city, party planning, Wyatt going to bed at obscene hours, homework, new Mommy and Me classes, traveling to NJ for work, and the rest of life's bumps, I've been having a hard time keeping up blogging.  I promise I will try to be better. 

Wyatt had an audition for the cover of Parenting magazine last week.   He didn't get it but the audition went very well and its always good for him to have new experiences.  Now that he is a little older, I try to make our jaunts into the city a great adventure for him.  Positive reinforcement.  If he goes to the audition then we do something fun like go to the park, out to eat, or to a museum.  He is very easily pleased and I love getting to reconnect with my city a little.  Wandering the streets of Manhattan, even with a stroller, always gets me nostalgic.  There is something about nice weather, the hum of the city, the excitement, that bubbles up happiness in me.

After the audition, Rebecca and I took him to a little pub restaurant where he flirted with the bus boys the entire time.  He was playing peek a boo around the glass partition and laughing his face off.  Then we found this cute, but crowded, playground around 68th and CPW.  Wyatt hijacked some little girls doll stroller and wheeled it all around the playground and then threw it into the sand pit.  I prayed that no one was watching.  He found a ball lying in the middle of Sheeps Meadow and threw it to a round of applause of onlooking mothers.  Of course, once he had an audience, he repeated the act about 12 times.  I never thought I'd get him to leave.  Can you detect a pattern of thievery?

By far, he had the most fun at the carousel.  We sat with him and watched it going around twice before deciding to bring him on it.  I wanted to make sure that he would be comfortable.  I was envisioning Wyatt doing fine until it started moving and then I would have to leap from the ride, mid-turn, with a screaming baby.  Rebecca sat next to him and I was on his other side holding him in place.  He kept on reaching out to pet the horses mane before we started moving.  He sat on that horse, wrapped his little fingers around the poll, and held on for dear life.  He loved it with a mixture of fear.  He would be laughing like crazy and then this look of terror would cross his face only to be replaced by laughing again.  I kept on wondering what part made him scared because it never seemed to be associated with anything.  When I tried to take him off, he lunged back toward the horses.  I gave in and we rode again.  I am going to have to take him on it every time we go to Central Park now.  Of course, I forgot my camera so these pictures were taken on my phone.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

This IS Kinda Kinky!

I have been watching a lot of kids shows.  In theory, I try not to let Wyatt watch much TV.  I know they just debunked that rule of no TV before age 2 but still I don't like him watching too much.  I think the American Pediatric Association's official stance on the topic is TV does nothing to improve or hinder a child's mind under 2.  They might say that but they have never seen Wyatt's face when the Backyardigans come on.  Or when the Count does the number of the day.  Or when Murray and his little lamb guess another school.  It's pure excitement.  Sometimes he gets more excited at his fictional boob-tube characters then when I come home from work.  It might rot his brain but he is damn happy doing it.

I think my favorite is Sesame Street.  I don't mind watching that at all.  Sometimes even I find myself watching only to find Wyatt has run in the other room while I have been mesmerized by the geometric shapes or claymation.  They have a little skit with Bert and Ernie as claymation characters called "Bert and Ernie's Great Adventures".  Does anyone know what I am talking about?  The writers are having a really great time with this.  The theme song is hysterical.  Ernie sings it while Bert interjects with quip comments.  It goes something like this:

Every night when I lie in bed, (Oh no!)
I see pictures dancing in my head.  (Picture Sleep!!)
Buddy Bert, buckle up and we'll fly away.
We're adventuring!!
Every time the bed starts tapping.
Something special's gonna happen (This IS kinda kinky)
My favorite kind of traveling....

Seriously!!!  I love it!!  They need to come out of the closet.  I think Sesame Street needs a gay couple.  It would complete the whole "Its a Small World After All" feel.  Am I going crazy?  Have I just watched this way too much?  Have a look for yourself.  Tell me what you think.


Thursday, April 16, 2009

12 Steps

The first step is admitting you have a problem.  Wyatt sleeps in my bed for a few hours every night, sometimes all night.  It is the only way that I can get a decent nights sleep.  When I started the habit, I knew I was in trouble.  But now that I have admitted its a problem and am resigned to it.  So he sleeps in my bed.  Big deal.  For a few months?  Who cares?  I am getting a decent 6 hours a night.  I'll take the trade off.  My next issue is how do I keep him from falling out of my bed.  Obviously, I am on one side but there is a vast expanse on the other.  Usually, I will feel him moving around and wake up in time to slide him back from the edge.  The other night, I must have been really out of it and woke up to find his head practically hanging off the bed.  This resulted in more sleepless nights worrying every 5 minutes if he was about to throw himself off the bed in a sleeping fit.

I weighted the options.  I could rearrange my room so my bed would be against a wall.  This seemed like the least expensive option.  But every time I tried to figure it in my head the room seemed all wrong.  With the crib in there as well, the room just didn't flow.  Wyatt still uses his crib for naps and evenings from about 8:30-1 so I can't ditch it yet.  There just isn't enough wall space.  My next thought was buying a bed rail, like for a toddler bed.  Although entirely humiliating it would seem to be the easy answer.  I found one that was long enough to fit on my queen mattress and also slides underneath when I don't want it in use.  All for $30.  The set up was a little tricky but it does the job.  My bed felt enormous the first night I used it, having regained bed space normally reserved for the barrier of pillows.

Whenever I walk in my room I feel like the bed rail is my scarlet letter of shame.  It solidifies my inability to make a change in Wyatt's sleeping habits.  I am officially letting him sleep in my bed.  Before at least there was the thought, the possibility, that I might Ferberize him.  Now, it would seem that I have given up hope and the existence of the rail makes me complacent.  Why listen to a baby cry for 2 hours when he will be asleep in 2 minutes?  "Oh, your being fussy.  Let's lay in bed and cuddle."  That's all it takes.  He's out and I have some more time on my hands.  I think it all stems from that I am trying to be the best mom that I can be.  I know that I am making mistakes but I might not outwardly know those mistakes now.  It will be down the road that I will discover all the wrongs I am committing.  But this bed rail is a huge no-no that I am saying yes to.  Is this my downfall as a mother?  Am I putting my sleep needs ahead of Wyatt's ability to sleep on his own in his crib?  When he gets fussy in the middle of the night, he rolls over, tucks his head under my arm and falls back asleep.  Will he ever be able to sleep on his own? 

In addition to all these concerns, it also signifies the last nail in my sex life coffin.  I live with my parents with my son sleeping a stone's throw away and now I have a bed rail that make me look like someone who frequently falls out of the bed.  What 26 year old do you know that needs a bed rail?  Yes, I can hide it but hidden it makes my bed incredibly squeaky and uneven.  Hidden works aesthetically but then makes the bed inoperative.  All my friends say I just need to get creative.  Creative is an understatement.  I need a hotel.  

Thursday, April 9, 2009

14 Months

My Wyatt, 

If this weather doesn't get nice soon I am going to have to go on Lexapro.   You beg me everyday to go outside.  You stare out the back sliding glass door with a look of longing and I eventually have to drag you away cause either its too cold or its raining.  It is the saddest thing having to confine you to the house when all you want is to play in the grass, or on the beach, or simply run around with the wind blowing your three hairs.  Sometimes, weather be damned, I bundle you up and take you out but we only last for a little while because your little hands get so red I have to bring you in.  I am beginning to think spring will never come.  Seriously, there were snow flurries yesterday.  On April 8th.  Global warming is messing with my head.

Gammy, Auntie B, you and I made an impromptu visit to the city going to Central Park and the zoo on an incredibly nice day.  Despite being surrounded by polar bears, seals, goats, pigs, and monkeys you were much more interested in chasing pigeons.  You would throw your hands up, let out a huge screech of delight, and run as fast as your legs would take you.  When the pigeons predictably flew away, you would stop, look around, then run to find some more.  I can't even imagine what would happen if you actually caught one.  The screeching had most zoo goers confused.  It was such a joyful, exhilarated, happy screech that most parents didn't know what to make of it.  Screeching with excitement?!  Toddlers do that?!  We walked around the Mall in Central Park.  There was a guy sitting with a boom box on his lap.  No fear, you stopped right in front of him and started bouncing to the beat.  I had to wrestle you into your stroller and you passed out before we got to the parking garage.  I want to go to Central Park with you every day this summer.  I had so much fun.

Your vocabulary is starting to pick up.  I will say a word a bunch of times and you will stare at my mouth trying to mimic what I just said.  It comes out as the crazy kid talk that only mothers can understand.  You will meow and bark but the meowing is more of a high pitched sigh and the bark is a low repetitive grunting.  You have got up, down, and cheese perfected.  But most of the time when you want something you point.  When we go outside we always have to bring a flower to Lizzy.  You stop, pick a flower, and repeat "Zzzzieee, Zzzzieeee, Zzzziiiee" until we get home.  Auntie B was quite upset about that.  Lizzy keeps a vase of her hand picked flowers on our desk.  Hopefully, our neighbors won't realize their gardens are being depleted.  

You are turning more into a little man every day.  You can eat a banana without me cutting it up which I am ecstatic about.  We all know how much I LOATHE bananas.  You do most of the work yourself which leaves me banana free.  Pure bliss!!!  Under Grandpa's tutelage you can drink from a big cup.  He gives you a sip of his orange juice every morning and you have learned to do it yourself.  You always want what I'm drinking.  You learned to shake your head no when you don't want something.  The other day I put on a TV show that you didn't like and you shook your head and yanked the remote from me.  I changed the channel because I was afraid you were going to no yourself into shaken baby syndrome.  You try to imitate everything I do.  You want to push the grocery cart, unload the dish washer, use the vacuum, and fold laundry.  You always want to know what I am doing with my laptop.  You want my cell phone, my iPod, and my camera.  You want to rake leaves with Grandpa and smell flowers with Gammy.  You especially love watching people cook.  It is fascinating watching you make connections, seeing the look on your face when something clicks.  I would love to be in your head for just 10 minutes.  Your world must be so exciting.

I love you everyday, more and more.
Mom

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

I Love You Holland

I have always wanted to do something like this. I used to fantasize about it, especially in High School. I wanted to organize my friends to walk around the mall in a random order then merge together to do a number from Newsies. Rebecca and I had most of the dances down from Newsies anyway. I thought it would be easy. Now I realize that it is probably much more difficult then I imagined and have a great respect for things like this. I used to think that I was really mentally unstable for wanted to choreograph a large dance number in a public place but seeing people actually accomplish this feat makes me think I am somewhat normal. Well, maybe a little more theatrical then normal. I hope you enjoy this. I did.


Thursday, April 2, 2009

Notes from the Undercroft - Gone to the Birds

St. John's has this lovely cloister area off the back of the church.  It adds to the old English feel with the beautiful carved wood and imported stone.  The not so nice part is the family of pigeons that have made the cloister their home and shitting ground.  Personally, pigeon poop doesn't bother me much.  You don't go to Venice and notice all the poop in the Piazza San Marco.  However, most of the parishioners find the poop unsightly and have complained.  A plan was set in motion with our pest control company to "fix" the pigeon problem.  Basically they put out some poison corn, get one of the birds to eat it and let off a warning squawk.  Then the other pigeons will know the area is unsafe and leave.  Now, this is not the way I would handle the situation but I just keep my head down and do as I am told.

I was having a meeting with Courtney, a parishioner, when the pest man comes to lay down the dirty work.  Literally, he walks through my meeting, holds up his hand, and says "Don't mind me, I'm just here to kill the pigeons."  As predicted, Courtney was on the other side of the pigeon problem and was appalled that we had hired someone to kill one of God's creatures.  A Church!  When she realized that her protesting was futile, she decided to head to the cloister to pray to St. Francis, Mary, and Jesus to get those birds out of there. Courtney has studied some Shaman meditation as well so she threw that in for good measure.  About 30 minutes later, she came back to our meeting saying she had done all she could do.  Meanwhile, I cannot believe this is happening.

A week past and there were no dead pigeons.  In fact, every time I went to check they were happily cooing in the rafters looking down on me with smugness.  The pest company guaranteed this would work.  I guess they didn't know of St. John's miraculous praying abilities.  I emailed Courtney immediately to tell her that her praying worked and the pigeons were saved!  Then on Sunday, I go out to find a box with a large stump holding it in place.  Now, logically, if the pigeon were dead why would you need the stump.  Clearly, someone had caught a live pigeon!  How is that even possible?!  I waited for some back up help in case the pigeon was ready to pluck my eyes out and opened the box to find a half dead smallish pigeon.  It was definitely alive but just barely.  Who knows how long it was in that box!  My back up help gets a garbage bag and scoops up the bird intent on throwing it in the garbage.  I asked him to throw the bird in the woods and give it some hope of survival but he reminded me that the garbage would "take care of it."

I was unsettled but tried to shove it from my mind.  Then as I was sitting in church feeling awful I got the overwhelming urge to save that pigeon.  I marched out in the middle of communion to the garbage cans and found my bird struggling.  I took him to the woods and let him out.  We are a church after all.  I asked him nicely to not come back or else he might find a worse fate.  My good deed done for the day I went back to finish out the service.  I checked on him for the next few days and then he flew away.  For about a month, I see no pigeons.  We called 1-800-DOG-POOP to clean up the pigeon mess.  (Yes, such a thing exists.)  The cloister has been gorgeous.  No dead pigeons, no poop.  Everybody wins!

Then last week I find a huge dead pigeon smack in the middle of the cloister.  Huge.  The biggest pigeon I have ever seen.  This is the biggest pigeon story and I am not exaggerating.   But there is no poop anywhere.  Is this just a rogue pigeon?  Caught in the wrong place at the wrong time?  Seriously, my first thought was I have to get Courtney back here to do some more praying.  I guess the pest company was right about the sacrificial pigeon but there won't be any more if I can help it.  Next time I am going to leave Courtney out there for an hour.  (Pictured is Father Michael, Rebecca, Wyatt and baby Elizabeth at Wyatt's Christening in the cloister.  If you look close enough you can see some of the poop.)