Friday Play

October 10, 2008

I’m working on the desktop computer downstairs when Smooch walks past me with a blanket over his shoulder and a couch pillow tucked under one arm. He goes into our bathroom and then comes back out. “My tum-puter? You get it?”

“The laptop? It’s upstairs. Why do you need it?”

“Bafroom, a big storm, scare me. Pillow, blanket, shower. Tum-puter in dere.”

This is toddler-speak for “Don’t you remember the last tornado warning we had? It was stormy and scary, and you put pillows and blankets in the shower stall down here, and we sat in there watching the local meteorologist on the laptop. I’m playing ‘tornado’ and I need my props, mom!”

Unfortunately for Smooch, I’m a big believer in PRETEND play. So I found him a chalkboard to be a pretend tumputer and sent him on his way.

***

On another topic, I’m not a Latter-Day Saint, but I tell you what: I really envy my Mormon friends their food storage right now. Last night, Gruff was joking about how when he finishes residency he might be “out doing surgery for free on the street,” and I told him wouldn’t it be awesome if we knew we had a couple years’ worth of food down in the basement? Honestly, if we could live off of food storage right now, we’d be saving over $200 a month at least. Makes you think, doesn’t it?


Today, in the bathroom

October 7, 2008

Smooch wanders in.

“Mommy, you pee-pee?” He pats my leg. “You penis, point down!” (Hmmm, I guess he’s heard that reminder a few times when he’s sitting down, huh?)

“I don’t have a penis, Smooch.”

“Where penis go?” Look of slight confusion crosses his face. He pulls down his underwear (the only clothing he’s currently wearing) to check. As his is still in place, he seems relieved. “My penis dere.”

“Yes, you have one. And Daddy has one. You are both boys. Boys have a penis.” (I know, terrible grammar. For some reason, my grammar falls apart in the face of explaining certain subjects to my two year old.) “I’m a girl – no penis.”

“Okay. I big boy, Daddy big boy. My penis here.” He pats his underwear reassuringly and wanders back out of the bathroom.

 

 

I swear. Just think of the conversations we’ll have when Doodlebug arrives and he starts observing her diaper changes….


What I would have posted last night, had my *&$@#! internet connection been working…

October 3, 2008

Good Lord.
Did this woman seriously just “give a shout-out” to a 3rd grade class?
Someone help her.


Potpourri

October 1, 2008

Dudes.

It has been so long since I logged in here, my browser couldn’t even remember the address to auto-fill for me. I had a momentary blank out on my password. And then the Dashboard looked like a foreign landscape and it took me a few seconds to remember how to open up a new post.

The times, they are a-flyin’.

Fall is here, finally. We woke up to mid-50’s temps and I put on a MATERNITY SWEATER. I could just swoon. I love the look of maternity sweaters (cozy, warm, they swaddle you up and make everyone go, “Oh, look: pregnant. Not fat.”) and never got to wear them while gestating Smooch down in South Florida. After a little reminder at my last midwife appointment (“We only need 300 extra calories for the baby, dear….”) and with the date for my glucose tolerance test looming in three weeks, I got ambitious and went out for a walk in the cool morning air. It was delicious, but I still only did one lap of the neighborhood. No sense in burning out on the first day I try, right?

I’m 25-and-a-half weeks pregnant, and this Doodlebug is a funny little girl. As I type, my be-sweatered belly is thumping and rolling. Boom-digga-boom-boom-boom. Ker-thwack. She likes her private time when Smooch is out of the way… she’s most active first thing when I wake up in the wee hours, as Gruff leaves for work; and then again during Smooch’s naptime; and then late in the evening after Smooch goes to bed. It’s either early sibling avoidance, or else those are just the only times I stop moving all day and it wakes her up. One of the two.

It’s just a little more than a month until we get to vote. Gruff has the week off work (coincidentally – he didn’t plan a vacation around the election) and we’re excited to get to go to the polls together for the first time since we’ve been together. He’s a total news junkie, so he’s looking forward to staying up all night to watch the talking heads as the results roll in. Before this year, I was really clueless about politics, but -you might remember- I decided to do my very best to get educated on the candidates back during primary season, and now I’m almost as hooked on political news as my husband. It’s a little wierd that we can have an intelligent conversation about the candidates over dinner, but it’s a good thing.

And *ahem*…. have you noticed that Christmas is coming? I went to Hobby Lobby with Smooch yesterday (“Wobby Wobby”, he says, with great glee. “H-O-B-B-Y says Wobby Wobby! Yay”) and it seems like half the store is dedicated to Christmas decorations. As we turned the corner and caught sight of the green & red, Smooch lifted both hands above his head. “Kissmiss tees! I EXCITED! Kissmiss, Mommy!” Thanks, Wobby Wobby. Now I get to field that query… oh, daily… for like ten weeks. Lovely.

Also on the holiday note, I have –somewhat recklessly– decided to try to make many of our gifts for family members this year. Like I don’t have enough going on, right? I have a huge list of projects to make FOR Doodlebug, another list of projects that need to be completed around the house before she gets here, and now a list of things to make for a holiday that’s just a couple of weeks before she’s due. I’m nothing if not optimistic.


20 Weeks

August 22, 2008

Halfway there. We have the “big” ultrasound scheduled for Monday at 8:00 a.m. I can’t even express how much I’m hoping that Doodlebug cooperates and flashes us the goods — I think that if I have to wait twenty MORE weeks to find out if she’s a she or he’s a he, I’ll go nuts. And I’m already pretty loopy from hormones, so that would be a bad thing all the way around.


Every Night

August 14, 2008

We do the same thing. Toddlers like that – the routine, the consistency, it lulls him to sleep just as much as the milk does.

First we change into pajamas, and he gets to choose between two parent-selected pairs. Then we run and climb onto The Big Bed (these days he resists our help as he huffs and clambers up – “I do it, I do it, I, I, I, I do it!” he mutters, with a new stammer of impatience and frustration in his voice these last few weeks). We climb on with him, three heads in a row on fluffy pillows. One night, we switched sides as we got onto the bed around him – Gruff on the right and I on the left – and the protests! “No! Mommy this side, Daddy this side! No Daddy on Mommy’s willow! Go, go, go, go, go, you go DERE!”

Then we sing a few songs, always Smooch’s choices. “The Alphabet Song” is in the top ten. Last night we did “Five Little Monkeys” with great exuberance for the first time. This morning he was singing “Jingle Bells” for some odd reason, so I have a feeling it will make a bedtime debut soon as well. After the songs, it’s time for prayers. About four months ago, I started saying the same prayer every night, and asking Smooch to fold his hands and close his eyes along with Daddy & I. “Dear God, thank you for Daddy, and for Mommy, and for Smooch, and for the baby.” Then I open my eyes a tiny peek and ask Smooch what else he is thankful for. The answers always make me laugh later – sometimes he is thankful for his grandparents, or his friends, but just as often he prays for the ceiling fan and his pacifier. The ways of the 2 year old mind are hard to fathom.

The last move is always the kisses and hugs. One of us parents will prompt him, and he always flies into my arms first for a big bear hug and slobbery kisses. Then he cries, “Daddy’s TURN!” and flings himself across the bed against Gruff’s solid chest. He always gives Gruff a kiss and then wipes it off his own face (why, we do not know), and then he slides off the bed. “My woom!” he usually cheers, giving out instructions as we cross the hall: fan on or off, which blanket, which stuffed animal or doll he needs to find. We tuck him in and exit. It’s a lovely routine.

And then a few nights ago, it changed. Not a big, earth-shattering change. But one that makes my mama heart both happy and sad at the same time. Gruff had said to Smooch, “Give Mommy a hug and kiss,” and Smooch said, “No.”

The next words out of his mouth took my breath away.

“Baby.”

And he pulled on the hem of my T-shirt, exposing my growing belly, and flung his arms around my gravid girth. He leaned forward and placed a tiny kiss just beside my belly button, and then sat up grinning. “Mama TURN!”

Our world is changing, and I love it, but like any change it makes me wistful for the days we’re losing.


Where I’ve Been

August 10, 2008

This is how you do a vacation when your husband is a resident:

Stay at father-in-law’s house for the free room & board lovely accomodations.

Attend sister-in-law-to-be’s graduation party for the free killer barbeque and pool party familial support and memories.

Hang out in small Georgia town with mother-in-law one day to kill time and avoid a guilt trip from the “left out grandmother” and appreciate the quaint beauty in a place where time stands still.

Go back to college town and tour campus of alma mater because it’s free and Smooch likes all the dead stuffed animals in the old buildings to reminisce about where we fell in love and to introduce Smooch to the idea of college.

And finally, drive out to the middle of nowhere to the lake where father-in-law keeps his boat. Ignore the greenness of the water and pray that stepmother-in-law knows what she’s talking about when she says it’s safe. Apply SPF 70. Let the grandparents watch out for Smooch, let Gruff be in charge of snapping pictures, and relax for hours.

It was cheap. It was simple. But we all really did have a great time. Of course, now that we’re home I have a mountain of laundry to do and the cupboards are woefully bare and the tedium of getting back to normal life is a bit depressing… which just means that it really was a vacation after all, don’t you think?