All Puppy, All the Time

My, how we've all grown over the past three weeks.

Luke has shot up physically. He was 8.8 pounds when they weighed him at the vet on August 6, then 9.2 pounds at our vet's on August 11. When I took him in for boosters on August 27, he was 11.8 pounds! And he's so much taller! He already outgrew the awesome crate I bought him, so we traded with someone in the neighborhood for a much bigger, much cheaper crate. Oh well. C'est la vie. 

James took Luke to his first puppy training class last weekend. I'm taking him tomorrow. He has that for six weeks, and we're also planning to get him out to a pool to see if he likes swimming. He seems to have more energy every day, so we're always looking for ways to get him thinking or moving. And the "moving" part can be a challenge when it's so hot out. 

Ironically, this is one of the cooler summers Austin has had in some time. But that's relative, and it's sweltering. Much more humid than typical.

Mal has figured out how to play with Luke in a way that won't get him all chewed up like James and I are (puppy bites are super painful and I scab over for so long, it would be tempting to wear long sleeves if we weren't living in the sweltering days of hell right now). We have two of Luke's toys each tied to opposite ends of a rope. I'd put one on the end just to kind of make it seem "alive." It was a way to play tug that didn't risk Luke's accidentally biting me. Once we put another toy on the other end, though, it became magical. Mal will run around inside during the day and outside at dusk, and get Luke absolutely bonkers over chasing and taking the toy.

We've also learned that he definitely likes to explore the neighborhood. I hadn't planned to try leash-walking until he was about 4 months old, because he's just such an energetic little ball of loopiness that I didn't think it would work. We're not doing loose-leash walks that give me much exercise, but it's nice to be out and about.

Luke sleeps great in the crate at night, but does not like it during the day. We've had a couple of successful  sessions, both when he was just already exhausted and I put him in when he was basically asleep. When we put him in fully awake, even if he's been exercised and fed and tired out and there are treats and toys in there, he does not like it. Work in progress.

He can use the rabbit waterer!

(It's Saturday morning now)

This time last year, when we weren't going anywhere, Mal got out of the habit of wearing clothes. Once the pandemic seemed to be lifting, he was to the point where he wanted to dress in the morning, even if we weren't going anywhere. Now, thanks to the Delta variant, which has rendered indoor spaces unavailable to him since he's unvaccinated (because of his age), plus the puppy, we're mostly home again. And once again, Malcolm is running around in his skivvies. It's hard to find pictures of him that don't involve partial nudity. But he is spending a lot of time outdoors, playing with the dog and hanging out with James and I while we work in the yard. So here's a cutie I took of him last night, and that's why he's not wearing a shirt. Now, why he wears his undies backwards and pulls them up like he's an 80-year-old man? I have no idea.

Time to go get ready for the day. Have a great weekend, everyone!

More of the Same

A few mights ago, Mal was eating Doritos right before bedtime. When he was done, it was time to brush his teeth; he complained that a chip was stuck in his tooth. A bit later, when they were done, James told me he couldn't see the chip. Mal said it was still bothering him. My extreme myopia involves not only very weak far-out vision, but extremely clear close-in vision. I pulled Mal into the light to look... and it wasn't a chip. The second of his four metal caps had a hole in it, but unlike the first one, it didn't fall out. It was just sitting open like someone had opened up a tin can by stabbing it repeatedly with a dull knife.

Since it was midnight, I knew we weren't doing anything that night, but he definitely had sharp edges and wouldn't be able to sleep with it like that. So I did something I am not recommending to anyone because it's stupid, but I've done it to myself on my natural teeth and it was pretty effective: I got a glass nail file and started smoothing out the edges. I was able to make some progress, and asked Mal if he could live with it. "No." So I did some more, and also pushed down the part that had pulled back, hoping it might rest in the natural valley of the molar. Can you live with it like this? "No." Finally, I asked Mal to bite down. He did, then said, "That was a clean bite!"

Whew!

THEN two days later. he just didn't poop. The next day (yesterday), either. Understand this: Every single day since late May, James and/or I have sat in the restroom with Mal for at least 20 minutes, and up to an hour and a half. Every single day. Reminding him to push. Chatting. Encouraging. Keeping him focused. And this is after his never ever in his life ever just saying, "I need to go poop!" and doing it. We cannot take a mental break from this. We can't give him a day off of trying so hard. We can't stop trying so hard. We simply cannot relax because even with our vigilance, his body just decides to stop moving every few weeks.

Yes, I know some of this might be because he just doesn't know or doesn't pay attention to cues. It might be that he's just immature in that way. But it's such a freaking chore, and it makes me both angry that I have a 6-year-old who has literally never wiped himself, and also in complete awe of parents who have kids with actual chronic health issues.

We don't want him to end up like this poor Texas kid from a millennium ago, though, so on we plod. He still gets Mirilax every day. When the flow starts winding down, I move to PediaLax (the Equate brand is NOT watermelon-flavored, though it purports to be; Mal says it's mint and he can barely down it... it's just as effective, though, and it's all that Walmart had, so... sigh). We've learned that 2 PediaLax twice over a 24-hour period seems to work pretty effectively. ExLax doesn't do a dang thing, though he enjoys taking them. Well, it does give him a stomach ache. No positive results, though. And I'm trying to avoid the magnesium citrate, which he's now taken FOUR TIMES this year. That's gotta be rough on the old GI tract.

I've mentioned this, but I'll reiterate: So many things are SO DIFFICULT with Mal. Why are his teeth crap? And why then did we choose a dentist whose work is crap? And why can't he just crap? CRAP.

That said, the other day we came in from an errand and Mal was chatting with me. It took me back to not too long ago, when every time we came in from a trip out, Mal was in tears because he just did not deal well with transitions. I'd picture our peaceful home, D enjoying having the bedroom door open and James napping or working quietly... then this aural storm taking over. Every single time. 

I'm trying to remember that a lot of the hard things we dealt with early on that have improved over time. Surely this stuff will, too? 

Anyway, here's a really cute picture of this really awesome little kid... 

A birthday celebration, COVID-style

 We have a six-year-old! Here he is.

We usually have a party for him at a place where I don't have to do anything but pay people to host his birthday party, but, you know. This year. I mean, Chuck E. Cheese and Urban Air and all of those places actually ARE hosting birthday parties, but everyone has to wear masks unless they're actively eating, so... meh. (Again, I'm pro-mask but hate wearing them.)

SO... for my niece's son's birthday, his dad rented a bounce house from Austin Bounce Rentals, where they have a 4-days-for-4-hour rental rate. This seemed like a cool idea, and we decided to do it for Mal, and then invite one friend over every day that we had it. I mean, it was a cool idea. But we're just really tired and ready to stay home and be potatoes for the next week!

Anyway, they brought the bounce house Wednesday, the day before Mal's actual birthday. His friend Alexei came that day, and brought his little sisters Anya and Adelina. It was our first chance to see baby Adelina, and she's super precious! The kids had lots of fun; we haven't seen each other since February. They've all grown up so much!

They brought Mal a cool foam ball slingshot and a bunch of Mario magnets. Mal has had a blast creating "scenes" for us on the refrigerator.

Thursday, on the actual birthday, Fox came over with his big brother, John Paul, and his little brother, Rex. The bounce house wasn't wanting to stay up, and after a while we just shut it off. The boys found plenty to do, and had fun running around half-naked and then spraying each other with the garden hose.

Fox brought Mal a BUNCH of Hershey bars (which is what I'd told his mom Mal liked when she asked) and also a Star Wars LEGO set and a couple of Star Wars books. One of them is kind of a who's who and the other is an Eye-Spy-type book where you find Chewbacca and a bunch of bounty hunters on every page.

Friday was family day. Ken, Travis, Tian, Hannah and Chance, and Pappy and Nana came out. The bounce house place had brought us a second blower, so we were going strong again.

The Brownies got Mal four Super-Mario-themed Hot Wheels, and Nana and Pappy brought him some Sonic LEGOs (which they're building in the picture above). We'd actually given Mal a set of Super Mario LEGOs, so he really has an embarrassment of riches, building-bricks-wise.

Today was the last party day, and it went so well. I was basically exhausted this morning, and not terribly excited to have more company. But Mal and Harrison played together beautifully, and it was the first day that it was hot enough to turn the water on in the bounce house and have it feel REALLY good.

It was a great week, catching up with friends we haven't seen in a while, and playing outside SO much. It was fun celebrating with Mal!

In the midst of all of this, we had another episode of needing Mal to take magnesium citrate, and he's gotten to be such a dang trooper about it. Also, no, his tooth hasn't fallen out yet.

The bounce house goes away tomorrow, and when I reminded Mal of this, he cried. A lot. He thought I'd bought it. I tried to calm him down by saying we could certainly look for a bounce house (although a toddler-sized one I looked at earlier this year was $700; the one we rented would be about $1200 used and more than $2000 new) later, and I think Mal's onto my stalling tactics. He said, "Mom, I'm afraid you're not going to do what you are saying." He's not wrong. I don't lie to him, but I do sometimes say things to calm him down like this, even though I know there's no way we're buying a bounce house. Sigh. He's getting so big. And cynical. Just like everyone else in the household. I'm both proud and concerned because now I have to think of something different to do.

Isn't It Bedtime Yet?

You guys, I'm tired.

We had a great time on vacation, and I was so pleased how well D kept up with everything while we were gone. We took it pretty slow Monday and Tuesday, though Mal and I met some friends at McDonald's one of those days.

Then on Wednesday, Nana came to stay with Mal while D and I got out to do some errands for a couple of hours. It had been raining pretty severely when  there was a little break in the storm. D had been planning on taking care of the pigeons before we left, but I decided that since it might be pouring again pretty quickly, I'd go out and switch out their water and make sure their food was full.

When I stepped outside, I saw something pretty substantial out on the flight deck. It actually looked a bit like a palm frond. It had been windy, but there are no palms anywhere near here. I asked aloud, "What do you guys have in there?" Then I realized: it was part of one of our newer birds.

It was horrifying. I listened but didn't hear anything in the loft, but still... whatever had killed the bird might still be in there. I called our local police, asked for animal control, found out we don't have any, but an officer came by, anyway. He had me stand back while he opened the door with his billy club at the ready.

There was nothing inside. It had gotten back out. There were no signs of life, and I saw enough very briefly to know that I didn't want to see any more.

In time, we'd learn this was definitely a raccoon, and their violent mauling of birds (chickens, ducks, etc.) is definitely a well-known occurrence in our area.

Oh, how every single person in our family cried that day. Multiple times. It was such a team effort to process our feelings and still take care of business. I cleaned up the flight deck just so the carnage wouldn't be visible. I told both kids, and I held them as they cried.

James came home early and collected what he could of the birds to put in a box, then dug a hole. D sat by the hole for a while before they filled it back in. James gathered everything else up in the tarp and threw it away, then I power-washed what was left.

At the end of the day, I realized that we'd both done a great job of managing and handing off and doing things, but we both went to bed without having really checked in with each other. We were all so sad; it's hard to think about everyone else's feelings when you're reeling, too.

Since then, I've just felt exhausted. I sleep okay, but wake up and am tired still. I guess it's grief?

Then there's the meat thing. We're kind of all off of poultry (except Mal, but in his defense, nuggets don't much resemble actual birds). For who knows how long. Which sucks, because I've been trying to avoid beef much, since it's such an environmental drain. So I guess we're left with pork? James and I could be vegetarian, but D likes, or has liked, meat. We're just... the memory is too vivid.

Today, James and I had taken Mal to the park for a while. It was a gorgeous day. Lots of people there had dogs, and many were off-leash, which is against the local ordinances. A small dog ran up to a leashed/harnessed big dog, and that big dog picked him right up and almost killed him. They got the small dog away from the big dog, and took it to an emergency vet... but, it was like PTSD. I'm OVER animal-on-animal violence. And those poor people with the leashed dog... they had to leave. Their day was ruined. And they did nothing wrong. It makes me even more vigilant about letting the cats out, because I CANNOT HANDLE ANYTHING ELSE.

This was Mother's Day, and as days go, it was pretty nice. I went to see "The Hustle" alone, but that wasn't a Mother's Day gift. It couldn't be, because James goes to movies fairly regularly, when it isn't Father's Day or his birthday or anything.

There's a lot of lead-up to and then social media performance of appreciating moms, to the point that it feels like a competition. Well, I'm not playing. I love my mom, and I know my family loves me. It's exhausting, all of the "Mother's Day might be hard for you, so here's to the people whose moms are gone, and who don't have a relationship with their mom, or who might want to be moms and aren't, or who have lost children, or who don't want to be moms at all and feel devalued by society." Ugh. If people want to celebrate their moms, cool. If they don't or can't, then okay. But it's just... so big.

Have I mentioned that I'm tired?

Last week, I guess Mal needed to make up for lost time on vacation, so we went to Chuck E. Cheese Friday morning, then Little Land Friday afternoon; and Catch Air Saturday morning.

This morning, Mal didn't want to go to church with me, he wanted to go to breakfast with James (which is James's Sunday morning tradition). That was cool, and I got to actually pay attention during church, but then Mal had told James he wanted to go to Taco Cabana, but they somehow ended up at McDonald's, where Mal both wanted to play and was super bummed that they weren't serving French fries yet. That sounds about right.

We have a guy coming out Tuesday to start working on our porch. We're getting some rotting planks replaced, and then getting the porch repainted and some of the timber re-stained. It needs to be done, and we have budgeted for it, but I'm super wound up about money right now. For no real reason. I think it just feels like I should be uptight about everything for a while.

I'm sure this has been uplifting, so I'll leave you to go enjoy the headiness.

Does this stuff happen when I'm not cycling and I just don't notice?

What did you guys do on Sunday?

Me?

Well, Mal and I went to church, then he was ready to come straight home, which is rare. Usually he wants to go to the water park or somewhere else.

We came home, ate lunch, and played. James actually slept until one o'clock. After he woke up, I wanted to get out for a bit to make a budget (it's hard for me to do it after Mal's asleep, which at present is between 10:30 and 11:30 PM), and to set an appointment to see a GI.

I went to Randall's to enjoy their Coke Freestyle machine and free wi-fi. I got settled in and realized they've changed their wi-fi since last time I was there. They don't allow ANY streaming, which means that I couldn't enjoy noise-reducing "study music" whilst I tried to put together a budget. Instead. I had to listen to the race they had playing on their television, where the announcer kept talking stats and places and which car was doing what... in other words, a lot of numbers.

Even when I can concentrate fully, numbers aren't my strong suit, so this was a problem. I wasn't there long before I decided to go to McDonald's and use their internet, instead. So I put my tablet into my already-heavy purse, topped off my large fountain drink, and went to get a 12-pack of soda to bring home.

I realized that we also needed eggs about the same time that I realized my soda had bubbled up onto the lid, pooled there, and was pouring down the front of my dress.  Then I quickly grabbed the eggs and headed to the cash register. About half way there, I made another unwelcome realization: My underpants were falling down. I was wearing a dress. I had a fountain drink and eggs in one hand, and a 12-pack of soda in another. There was no way to fix it, so I just walked with my legs metaphorically glued together at the top.

By the time I got to the cash register to check out, I was fully aware that my entire butt cheeks area was uncovered by what is supposed to cover them, but fortunately I had on a dress that is fully lined, so there were two layers above it. I paid and walked out to the car and sat down without losing my underpants, so I guess yay for me.

Then I went to McDonald's. I had lost all passion for budgeting by then, so decided to find an in-plan gastroenterologist to see about my stupid esophagus-sticking thing. I've had it for as long as I can remember, but recently, it wants to happen multiple times per week instead of just one painful and terrifying (and gross) time every couple of years. Primary culprits: chicken, carrots, and dry bread or noodles.

Anyhoo... the Blue Cross Anthem site makes it really easy to search for a specialist in your area, but they don't have contact info for them once you get there. I looked up the first doctor I honed in on and found that she was actually practicing in Arlington (near Dallas) rather than in the Austin area, so I filled out a form that indicated that the listing was in error.

Then I found a second doctor. When I Googled her, I found that she, too, is affiliated with a practice in Irving (Dallas area), and I filled the form out for her.

By the third one, I was angry and surmised that surely there is someone who works for BCBS whose job is to make sure that listings are up-to-date. Why was I working so hard for free? And by free I mean, to make an appointment I'm going to have to pay full price for, anyway, whether they're in or out of plan, since our deductible is something like $14M and we haven't cracked into it at all this year.

What I'm telling you is that my Sunday afternoon was weird, and what was supposed to be a sort of relaxing break didn't actually yield much by way of accomplishment or relaxation. Also, I'm a Mom so not too sure what I was expecting with that whole thing.

Schooling as Childcare? Yes, Please.

Some days, I get it. Especially days like today, when we're toward the end of a month during which James has worked almost nonstop, even from home. When I'm exhausted from the 24/7 care of a spirited child. I am getting enough sleep. I am getting my chores done. But everything feels more difficult than it needs to be, and I must say "Jesus, take the wheel" in my head two dozen times a day.

So I get it: the urge just to find a "good" preschool program and enroll Mal. The relief that would come from having a few hours in my house inside of my own head. The ability to go between chore and rest at my leisure. Not being dictated my part in a play scene I only sometimes understand. Not to have to say, "Hold on" then rush through something all day, but to be able to complete a task thoroughly from start to finish in one fell swoop.

When James isn't working so much, he is good about hanging out with Mal so I can get out on my own, but that's not the same thing as just being home. Alone.

We homeschool. I love it. I have no intention not to homeschool. But, again, in this season... this very long, multi-annual season, I totally get it.

Case in point: Mal was sitting at the table playing with sand so, sitting with him, I started this post. Within three minutes, he decided to go into his room and play something else, and is now calling me, crying, because he needs my help as someone is out of gas.

I never felt this fatigue with D. D, too, was precocious and challenging, but Mal is what I call "extra." And being the constant touchstone for such a verbal, demanding, emotive, energetic little person is draining.

("You always make me sad." The exact thing Mal just said to me after running back in here and telling me he's too scared to be in his room by himself. Now he's standing here crying loudly at me. And James is trying to work. Fortunately, he's not on a call, so I'll let it play out while I finish.)

And, yes, mostly there is happiness and silliness and I love it. But the not ever feeling caught up with my refilling of patience and energy is a bummer. So while I might side-eye the moms brimming over with glee because school starts in 3 weeks... I have to admit that I can see it.

*******************

To end on a funnier note, yesterday morning I was in the closet getting dressed and Mal was jumping on our bed. He said, "I use those to go to sleep at night." I went into the bedroom to see what he meant, and he was pointing at my chest.

Daddy's Gone, Day 3

Hey-o!

The downside of Mal falling asleep so early last night is that he woke up for the first time at about 11:30 PM, but was easy to get back to sleep.

When he woke up at 3:30, I realized that he'd been lying funny and managed to pee out of his nighttime diaper, even though it wasn't super soaked. So at 3:42, I was stripping a bed to wash the linens. Those waterproof zip-up bed covers have saved our mattresses' proverbial butts so many times! And since there are two twin beds in there, Mal just moved to the trundle where I usually sleep and I ended up on the naked mattress. I did not pee in it. Not even a little bit.

While I was up and trying to get this emergency laundry session started and also grabbing a quick drink, my other child called out to me with an important wee-hours query: Did we have any extra keychains? Having a nocturnal teenager is such a hoot.

I miss my husband, truly I do. But at about this time this morning, I pictured him sleeping alone in the dark and silence of a hotel room. I realized that since we've been together, he's gotten more than ONE THOUSAND FULL NIGHTS' SLEEP in excess of what I've gotten. It's a very good thing for him that I don't keep track of these sorts of statistics. Also, that I love him very much.

It is 5 PM and Mal's eyes already look ready for bed. I have to keep him awake! I'll do this by continuing to ignore him for a few moments.

Today, we got out to go to the store for soda this morning, then one of Mal's friends came over to play a couple of hours this afternoon. Although my plan was to lounge in PJs and no makeup while James was gone, I've ended up going somewhere every day, and have done mom makeup and "I'm kind of trying" clothes.

UPDATE: It's 9:50 and he's still awake. Please send help.

Daddy's Gone, Day 2

Here's all you need to know about today:

1) We got out the Cars metal cars to play with three separate times. I stopped cleaning up after the third time.

2) We got out the Super Wings to play with twice, including once in the bath.

3) We got out the PJ Masks twice (so far; it's only 7:48 PM).

4) We started watching videos for approximately 7 minutes at a time about 8 times.

5) I have eaten an entire bag of Doritos in the past 24 hours.

6) We went to Jump Street. Again.

7) Abby Ah Babby, Mal's invisible alien friend, requested #6.

8) Mal didn't want the white potato I fixed him, he wanted the little potatoes D was finishing up.

9) Mal didn't want the little potatoes I found in the back of the fridge after having told him that D was just finishing them up. He wanted the ones from "last time."

10) I made Mal cry because he wanted Sheriff  (with whom Mal had told me to play) to be beside McQueen, and I thought he'd be better placed caddy-corner.

11) I don't drink, but I'm eyeing some of James's stash.

12) Mal sat down to poop about 43 seconds after I'd gotten into the shower and started rinsing the dye out of my hair.

13) I turned the a/c up from 76 to 78 because I was cold.

14) It is 8:19 PM, my son is asleep, and I'm singing, "Jesus Loves Me."

15) I'm having Special K Chocolaty Delight for dinner... whenever I get around to it.

16) Here's a thing Google just made me.

17) He's such a sweet kid. I'm glad I get to spend my days, even the challenging ones, with him.

18) We haven't had to change Mal's underpants due to mistimed restroom visits in a couple of days.

19) I'm probably going to go write another blog post now, since it seems like my husband is gallivanting around SoCal whilst I keep the home fires burning.

Daddy's Gone, Day 1

Good evening, fellow humans I'm sure are still out there even though I'm holed up in my house alone with a couple of kids and no one to talk to about the day's news and minutia. Okay, maybe I'm being overly-dramatic. James has left town before, but only for one or two nights. This week, he's gone the entire work week, and while I weathered longer periods of singe-handed toddler care with D, as we've noted ad infinitum, Mal is different. Good different, but, you know.

This weekend was fun and weird. A lot like our family, in general.

First, my parents came over super early Saturday so James and I could go see "The Incredibles 2." Alone. Because neither child was interested. Hmph. Well, we enjoyed it. Then we went to Logan's Roadhouse for James's quarterly meat ingestion (thanks, gout!).

After we got home, almost as soon as my parents left, I got the overwhelming urge to dig up some stuff from our planter outside. Some stuff had sprung up rather quickly earlier this spring, and I had decided to let it grow a bit to see what it was.

We have some Mexican Petunia, which bloom gorgeous purple flowers that last one day and replenish entirely the next. It's amazing. They're self-propagating, and spreading in that bed, but I knew it wasn't that. Then I was doing some research to find out this vine that's taking over our yard was, and learned it is Carolina snailseed. In the process, I realized that the fast-growing plants beside the Mexican Petunias, two inches away from our home's foundation, were TREES.

They needed to come out, and it seemed like a thing to do, so I did. In the process, I got really irritated about how nasty our rose bushes are and took them out, too. As soon as I finished, it poured rain, so I was glad to have gotten it over with.

Then Sunday morning, Mal and I went to the Hill Country Water Gardens and Nursery after church. Love that place.

Found a couple of bushes, one of which I believe I had in Sherman. If so, when they bloom next spring, it will smell AMAZING.

Got home to plant those, and I was just super beat from the day before, and the heat an humidity. Plus, I found more than twelve feet of root all down the bed from a nearby tree. Had to hack that out before I could dig holes for the bushes. Also pulled out all of the tubing for the sprinkler system, which doesn't work, anyway, and it's hard to dig around.

I was just pretty much worn out when Mal came out and wanted to play with the hose. Once he came out and gave me a shower every few minutes, I was able to complete the job! I didn't take any pictures because I didn't weed the bed or anything, so it's not pretty. I just plopped the plants down in there and we'll hope for the best.

We took James to Dos Salsas for dinner for Father's Day, and otherwise just hung out and helped (or watched) James pack for his trip.

Oh! Mal slept from about 9:30 PM until 6:00 AM last night! That;s the record to beat!

This morning, Mal was awake to watch James leave in the Super Shuttle. We played and watched his flight, then went to Target, where I bought Mal a big collection of PJ Masks characters he's wanted, with the understanding that it's all we're buying while Daddy's gone. (We'll see if he's able to keep up his end of the bargain.)

Then we came home, had lunch, played, watched some TV, and Mal was ready to get out again, this time to Jump Street. He played there for about an hour, and I didn't take any pictures, but here's one from Friday.

We actually went twice on Friday. Most kids pay by the hour, but kids 4 and under are a set price for the whole day because they can't do much. We figured, why not make the most of it, and James went with us later in the evening that day.

After Jump Street, Mal wanted to go to Walgreen's, but it and the bank I needed to visit were on the "wrong" side of the road during rush hour, so now we have something to look forward to tomorrow.

We had dinner, and Mal was asking again to go to the store. I talked him into the lake, which we haven't visited in some time. The water level is really low, but it was beautiful out here, nonetheless.

On our way home, we were getting ready to walk up the big hill when I saw a German Shepherd peeking around the curve at the top of the hill. I stopped to see what it was doing, and as it turned to walk back, I could see it was not on leash.

It could have gone back to its owner; I had no idea. So I waited a minute and when nothing else happened, I told Mal we were going to have to walk home a different way. I started to turn around when the dog and a chihuahua friend of his came bounding around the corner toward us. We were still about half a block away, but I never like to encounter off-lead dogs. These both had collars and tags but were very much alone.

I knew I didn't want to approach them, and also knew that there was not time to unstrap Mal from the tricycle stroller thing and try to get anywhere away from them, so I just stood there and left Mal confined so he couldn't do anything to spook the dogs. I also turned both Mal and me sideways so we weren't in an apparent stand-off with the dogs.

When they got closer, I held my hand out and down and looked at the German Shepherd. He clearly wanted nothing to do with me. He and the chihuahua watched us carefully as they pulled up to us and then walked past. Once they were clear of us, they sped up.

I started slowly up the hill, looking back every few feet. I have to tell you: adrenaline really helps that climb not seem so deathly. It was barely an effort.

Anyway, it was a tense few moments and, of course, Mal had no idea what an iffy situation it was. He just came home all chill and with his treasures and construction trucks in tow.

At about 9, Mal announced that he was ready for bed, and he was! I love easy early bedtimes. So we survived Day One! Only four more to go...

He Giveth and He Taketh Away (like Calgon)

This morning, Mal woke up early. raring to go to Target. When we got out, I realized that the 51 degree high for the day (yesterday was 85) had already been hit and the mercury was dropping. We ran by Chick-fil-A and got free chicken minis and a free "Sunrise" something that's basically just orange juice and soft serve mixed together, then went to the store. Mal picked out a couple of Cars, and on the way home, I got my free cow calendar treat for the month (which I couldn't order with the other free things, but two trips was no problem because it's in the Target parking lot), which was a chicken biscuit. James got the drink, D got the biscuit, and I offered the minis to Mal, who rejected, so I was forced to consume them.

When we got home. James was still in bed and, I have to tell you, I was not in the best head space about that. I'd already tweeted something snarky (which you can go see, because I'm not going to share it here, but I think I'm pretty funny), and just kept coming around to this thought I was repeating in my head about how, yes, I appreciate that James gets up early every morning during the week to go to work and support our family financially, but surely he realizes that even when I'm in bed when he leaves, I'm not asleep nor have I gotten much rest overnight and no, I don't want to fall into a "me or him" mentality but there is the fact that when our child is awake and one of us is asleep, the other one necessarily has to be awake, so would it be reasonable for me to hope that maybe my husband would offer just one Saturday a month where he would rise with the son and allow me a lie-in since he surely recognizes my contribution and desire for rest, also?

When James got up, he played with Mal while I made lunch. And did laundry. They were going outside, and I wanted to watch a video while I chopped stuff for the curry, but for some reason, it was taking FOREVER for them to get ready to go into the back yard, and so I loaded the dishwasher while I waited for the quiet, and then they finally went outside for like 4 minutes, as you might remember the temperature comment above.

THEN later, James asked Mal if he wanted to go down to the Cajun Festival at the park, so I drove them down and they were gone long enough for me to almost vacuum the whole house. Then James went back down there alone, and I have raging hormones right now, and my son is on 100% + at this general time, and... I needed a dang break.

"And the gods heard her prayer." To borrow a quote from "Once on This Island." Which is a different musical altogether, but we'll get to that.

Mal wanted to nurse. During the day. My mom made the comment, "I thought you were about through with nursing." WE WILL NEVER BE THROUGH. This is what they don't tell you when you have a squirmy newborn: If breastfeeding "takes," you will NEVER NEVER wean them. This is our life now.

Anyway, it turns out, he went to sleep at about 4:30. I was hoping this meant he was just feeling super stimulated from a busy week and might sleep all night, but even at 8:06 PM, we never know. It still looks promising, though.

SO, I got online and saw that the Easter performance of "Jesus Christ Superstar" Live in Concert was on YouTube.

I was vaguely aware of this show growing up, as we were a theater family. And while I don't remember hearing, "This is blasphemy!" about this particular show, as James does, we never really paid as much attention to it as we did Phantom or Les Mis or Into the Woods or Secret Garden.

When I was in college, though, majoring in theater with a concentration in musical theater, one of my classmates performed "Gethsemane" and I was absolutely floored. Totally sold on the whole thing. Listened to it a million times and loved it. I didn't enjoy the film too much, as it was so blatantly 70s, an aesthetic that I, ironically born in the early 70s, didn't embrace. (I'm sure the JCS I listened to was the revival, though I have adored Ted Neely's every dang performance.)

Watching this show was hugely cathartic. I sobbed at Pilate's initial song about his dream. I was transfixed by Brandon Victor Dixon as Judas every time he was on stage. Caiaphas was haunting. The musicians were flawless. The updates to the musical and visual style were fabulous. Sara Bareilles was genuine as Mary Magdalene, but there's no comparing her "I Don't Know How to Love Him" to Judas's reprise of the same song. Both she and John Legend, who played Jesus, are incredible singers and performers. And when they're the least memorable players in a production, you know it's top notch.

Oh, and Alice Cooper as King Herod? I literally gave him a standing ovation at my dining room table. His take on Herod was more "old school rock and roll" (to quote Andrew Lloyd Webber) than the kind of effeminate vaudeville style that is traditional. It was very satisfying to watch.

I felt more positively spiritually moved by that hour and 40 minutes than I have in years, I believe.

It's interesting to me the reaction of some people when new or "different" takes on familiar Bible stories come out. We do it with kids' books, making it available to them on their level. We do it in allegories and parables in study books to help drive home the point. But when the people from familiar Bible stories are presented as raw or urban or messed up, sometimes people's knee-jerk is to be offended and ignore the offering.

I find fresh eyes to be invigorating and thought-provoking.

The Bible isn't measured or tidy or easy to deal with. I think we get this white-washed version of Bible stories (meaning like paint, not like race, though we certainly do that, too) that make us thing that because people go to church and are generally quiet and respectful that it's the only honoring way to handle the material.

One thing I've appreciated about my pastor and the environment at my church this past year is their willingness to look at Scripture and literally ask, "What are we supposed to do with this?"

A funny thing... a few weeks ago, the scripture reading was from Numbers 21. Specifically: And the people spoke against God and against Moses, “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and we loathe this worthless food." Then the LORD sent fiery serpents among the people, and they bit the people, so that many people of Israel died. And the people came to Moses and said, “We have sinned, for we have spoken against the LORD and against you. Pray to the LORD, that he take away the serpents from us.” So Moses prayed for the people. And the LORD said to Moses, “Make a fiery serpent and set it on a pole, and everyone who is bitten, when he sees it, shall live.” So Moses made a bronze serpent and set it on a pole. And if a serpent bit anyone, he would look at the bronze serpent and live.

Typically, at the end of such a reading, one would say something to the extent of, "This is the Word of the Lord." The reader, who has been the accompanist at this church for more than 30 years, just shook her head and said, "This... is the book we... cherish." And everybody cracked up. Because, seriously. What?

I hope there's room for that in most Christian circles. I think it's healthy.

And how it's 8:30 and I should be heading toward bed, since we'll probably be up at 3 and Mal will be starting since he really didn't eat anything today. Oy.

I still appreciate a few quiet hours to myself.

And I love my husband, of course. He does a lot. I just needed the chance to get out from under that cloud of funk.

Dratted Energy

This kid. It's 10 PM, and we're probably looking at another hour before he's ready to lie down, and another half hour after that before he's nursed to sleep. Going to bed at 11:15ish is bad enough, but after this week, it'll spring forward until after midnight. I get that we stay home, so the shift shouldn't matter. But James works. He is having to go to sleep before Mal does, and he leaves the house before Mal wakes up, and often before I'm out of bed. Because I end up staying awake until 1 or so just to wind down.

And we *try* to wear him out. Tonight at sundown, I took him to the lake and he did this stuff.

But he's still running back and forth through the house. He's hurt himself once, which resulted in my throwing out the stool off of which he'd pulled the no-skid stickers about a year ago, and I'm justifiably concerned that there is the potential for further injury before bedtime happens.

In other news, Mal has honed in on something I'm sure I had no awareness of when I was three: personal musical themes. The first one he glommed on to, a long time ago, was Darth Vader (I know; it's the Imperial March, but it might as well be called "Darth Vader's Song"). But then, he focused on Finn McMissle's theme in Cars 2 (it's super James Bond-y).

Recently, he asked me what Mater's song was. I told him I didn't think Mater had a song, but the more I thought about it, I realized that whenever he's doing something particularly characteristic, there's a twangy banjo thing happening: "cow"-tipping, towing in a guy at high speed, showing off his backwards driving skills, etc.

And if Mal's playing Cars 2, racing a couple of cars, and I sing, "Run the race!" he'll correct me with, "No, that's from Cars 3."

Today, he hit the jackpot. James and Mal went to Little Land to play (actively, see above) but they were closing early for a birthday party, so instead, they went next door to a game shop. They came home with something I thought was either a microwave or a kegerator for James's office, but when he brought it in and set it down, I saw that it was this:

Yes, that is a store display for two out-of-production Lego sets. It has a bunch of circuitry at the bottom, and lights across the top. Since we don't really have anywhere to put it, we've pulled everything out. The pieces are glued together, so we can't take them apart (which is a blessing, honestly), but Mal has had fun playing with those this afternoon.

Incidentally, the Minifigs it came with would cost more than double what James paid for the whole thing, which was $25!

It's 10:35 and James just went to bed. Mal is still going strong.

One day last week, I was just over how tired and accident-prone and fussy he gets, and having watched the night before as he was acknowledging being tired, but his body would not wind down, I gave him .5 mg of melatonin. That worked; he was asleep within about 15 minutes. But his heart was beating so fast. Tachycardia is a potential side effect of melatonin, and since Mal seems prone to it, I cannot justify having him take it, even though I know his body is wanting to go to sleep and having issues.

The following night, though, Mal was outside several hours during the day. First, we went to the park with friends after story time at the library, then played out in the back yard in the afternoon. I don't know if it was a hold-over from the supplement, or having gotten so much sunlight, or a combination of both, but he was out cold at 9 o'clock, which is the earliest he's gone to sleep in months.

If anyone has any advice (other than "just make him go to bed and stay there," because that won't help the problem with his not physically being able to wind down), I'd love to hear what worked for your kids!

Drying Out

It would seem that I am no longer in the milk-producing game. While I've been ready to wean for some time now (and maybe my body is responding to that?), my child is NOT ready to wean.

During the day, it looks like this: He asks for "deedees," latches on, gets nothing so asks, "other side," latches on, gets nothing, and then goes about his business. We have several of these check-ins during the day, less when we're busy. So that's not too bad.

What's pretty bad is nighttime. See, my son still does not have the ability to self-calm or to "just" go to sleep. Without nursing or riding in the car, he's just awake. And now that there's no milk, bedtime is taking between two and four hours per night! Not because I want to "put him down" at a certain time; we let him decide when he's sleepy.

And here's how it played out tonight: At about 6:30, Mal wanted to lie down and have "deedees." He was exhausted. If I'd had milk, he would have nursed to sleep. Since I don't, he sucked on one side, eyes rolling back, lids drooping, then popped off and said, "Other side." So we switched. Since he wasn't getting anything there, he hopped up and decided we needed to take the dog for a walk.

We did. We put on jackets, got the dog leash, went for a fairly nice walk... except I left HIS jacket on the porch. Since he had on long johns, he didn't really need it (I was wearing a short-sleeved top and capris so did), but once he realized we didn't have it, he started screaming and crying that he needed his jacket. I told him we could come back home, but he didn't want to turn around. He cried that he wanted to go "that way" AND have his jacket. I offered him mine. He cried more. "Mal's jacket!"

It took us a good five minutes for him to realize that going the way we were going and his having a jacket were mutually exclusive. We ended up walking some more, and about a quarter mile from the house, he decided to get out and push his own stroller. (I'm not going to lie: I was a little disappointed that the walk didn't lull him closer to sleep. He was a hot mess.)

When we got home, he wanted to go into the back yard. He was pretending that his stroller was a lawn mower, but he wanted me to get the real mower out. I told him I wasn't going to do that because it is dangerous, and he sobbed hysterically. Then eventually, he got distracted and went on the swing. Then he wanted to slide. He wanted me to go up to the slide, also, which I did... then he wanted me to slide down, and I told him I would, but only once because I was getting tired. 

He demanded I go back up and slide again, and because I was tired of the crying, I told him I would one more time. When I got back up, he FLIPPED OUT. I couldn't figure out what it was for a while, then I realized that it was because I went up the ladder instead of what he calls the "step stool." I said I'd slide down and come back up the step stool, but he indicated, still with hot tears and snot, that I could NOT SLIDE because I'd come up the wrong way. So I started to climb back down, and he said, "NO, MOMMY! DON'T!" I guess he wanted me to magic back to the ground and climb up the right side.

He cried when I wouldn't turn on the hose (because he was already dressed for bed, and I was too tired to let him get soaked at 8 PM and then change his clothes AGAIN, plus it was 60 degrees). He cried when I tried to fold up the stroller to put it away. He wanted to play "games" so got the not-Frisbee... which we've had for months and it's been sitting in the sun, so the second time I threw it and it happened to land on its side, it shattered. Guess what happened? Yeah. More screaming and sobbing.

Mal talked his dad into taping the disc with duct tape. I suggested to Mal that we lie down. He did, and, again, would have gone to sleep if I'd had enough milk to keep him still for two minutes. As I didn't, he hopped up and plugged in his lights. He got some blocks and said he wanted to build a tunnel. He wanted me to build, too, but I was done. It had been two hours of on-and-off hysterics, and I just wanted to hold him so he could calm down. I knew whatever I did with the blocks would just upset him at some point, anyway.

Finally, after getting very mad at me, then lying down and demanding "deedees" then rejecting the first side, then very angrily rejecting the second side and demanding the first one again, he managed to wear himself out.

I'm at a loss.

All of the stuff people tell you to do with the nighttime routine and the lighting and whatnot... None of that works for him. He isn't a "lie down and unwind" kind of person, and since I'm unwilling to physically restrain him, I don't know how to save him from himself in these situations.

Oh, a few weeks ago, I made lactation cookies and those things were delicious but did NOT work. In fact, everyone in my household ate bunches of them, and literally no one is producing milk.

He's such a busy guy. So full of energy. I need some serious help figuring out how to help him wind down. I hate having him weepy (understatement) and on the verge of injury and/or breakdown the last couple of hours he's awake. I wouldn't care if he stayed up until 10 (until recently, he did; when he was still napping), as long as he was in a chill-to-happy mood.

But his distress eventually wears through my energy, and I'm emotionally too drained to deal well with helping him. Because this his happening now every day, and it's been almost a week and I can't imagine what I'm going to be like three weeks from now.

On the up side, this morning, Mal walked into the kitchen and saw me drinking out of a mug. He said, "Mommy like copy (coffee)?" I said, "Actually, I'm drinking milk. Want some?" So I gave him a drink. He said, "Yummmmmy!" So I poured him half a cup, which he drank and then requested more. I gave him another cup, which he drank and then requested MORE. I poured him another cup, but he didn't touch it so it's in the fridge for tomorrow.

I'm thinking that tomorrow I might try to warm the milk up, maybe add a little vanilla, and see if he'll take that at bedtime.

Wish me luck, people. And hit me up with any ideas you have. We're worn out and super frazzled over here!

Exhaustion, but a Small Victory

It's 3:53, and today has looked like this:

1) Made Mal "stinky eggs" (scrambled), per his request.
2) Read a few books.
3) Got Mal dressed.
4) Took the dog on a walk, pushing Mal in his tricycle/stroller.
5) Drove to storytime at the library.
6) Went to CVS in Lago Vista for cheap Valentine's candy.
7) Got into the car, strapped Mal in, and realized I was charged full price for a $10.99 item I'm going to end up having to take back, but it wasn't worth it at that moment.
8) Took Mal to eat on the patio at the Lago Vista Sonic, but they were doing work on the power pole just beside the restaurant, and it was too noisy, so we waited for our food and came home.
9) Ate lunch on OUR patio, on our turquoise table.
10) Went outside with Mal to try out the bubbles I'd gotten at CVS, and almost immediately, he inhaled when he was supposed to blow on the pipe, and he got a mouth full of soap bubble mix. Tried to grab his hands and bring him inside for water and to clean, but too late. He gagged himself and threw up the pink marshmallow Peep hearts he'd just eaten. Finally got him in, water down his throat, and hands washed. Went outside, dumped water on the slimy soap barf. Came back in for more water. Was filling a bucket and heard Mal crying. Went back out, and he'd "cleaned" up even more... by dumping the bubble liquid (I'd left open) all over the patio to clean some more. And he was crying, "More bubbles." Told him to wait, poured about 6 buckets of water onto the patio, came back in, mixed some dishwashing liquid with water, and went back out to try again. That worked okay temporarily, but I was stressed because, first, it's about that time of the month and, second, the stuff that had just happened... and Mal kept dropping the bubble kazoo down all the way into the mixture, thus ensuring there would be soap on his hands and in his mouth. Ugh.
11) Mowed the back yard while Mal watched Peg + Cat. Tried at first to get him to come out to play, but the practically silent (in comparison) electric lawn mower freaked him out. Like he got up and sat in his water table to make sure it wouldn't get him. It was nowhere near him. I'm not a monster.
12) Came back in and went through the mail, then spent 20 minutes popping bubble wrap with Mal.
13) Mopped the whole house.
14) Took out the trash and recycling.
15) Ordered pasta and chicken for my family from Domino's because I'm officially done with this day.

It hasn't been a bad day, just a long and full one. I'm looking forward to seeing James, and to his being home all weekend.

But I had to share this because it was awesome, and because it happened twice, so I don't think it was a fluke.

First, I have to admit something to you: The other day at the grocery store, I was putting stuff onto the conveyer to check out when Mal grabbed a Hershey's Cookies and Cream bar and had put it (wrapped) into his mouth before I could stop him. I took it from him... and didn't buy it. Because, I'm sorry, but if you're going to put that stuff right there where kids can grab it, you can deal with one loss. Sigh.

Anyhoo, today was a different story.

At CVS, I was looking at sale Valentine's Day candy, and Mal came around the corner with a king-sized Snicker's bar. I said, "Mal, we're getting other candy. Please put that back." And. he. did.

Later, when I was checking out, he saw those big round suckers and grabbed one to bring to me. I said, "I got marshmallow hearts for you. You can have one in the car. Please put the sucker back." And. he. did.

Two times in about four minutes. And no arguing. Just did it. Whew. Maybe we're getting somewhere!

I Ain't Even Mad (and I'm tired of people who are trying to sustain anger)

So, guys, whew. That election, amirite?! SNL was funny this weekend. Russell Brand had an interestingly insightful video about the whole thing. I'm not posting links, because I'm lazy and I'm sure we're all tired.

Now, first, if you want to know the truth, I did not vote for our President-elect. Second, I was surprised watcing the results unfold (again, you should really watch that one SNL skit about people "like me" on eleciton night. Good good stuff). But very quickly, I saw something so hopeful happening: I saw folks mobilizing to make sure marginalized people weren't going to slip through the cracks, be bullied, or have their rights trampled on.

I'm a member of several groups that have recently sprung up on Facebook to facilitate interracial understanding, to reach out to political leaders to make sure the will of the people is known, and to step out of comfort zones to make a real difference in the lives of people whose civil rights are important to "us" (meaning those with any kind of privilege, almost all of which I have: white, fully-"abled," Christian, straight... pretty much all of it except "male."

Seeing these random acts of kindness, seeing how taking a look at ourselves has made us more empathetic and more motivated to reach out... that's been affirming and beautiful. I want more of it! I want to be a part of it. I want to be part of a revolution that has as its goal to love actively. This is awesome.

But.

OMG, people.

The "but"s.

I get it: some of us were surprised and disappointed and scared for ourselves, or friends, or family members, or society at large. Some of us were happy and aren't thrilled with the way the "others" are looking at us right now and we don't understand their outrage and find their morality high horse consescending. I get those things.

But I'm tired of...

You know what? I'm not tired of the angry. I get the angry. I have felt the angry.

I'm tired of the vitriol. I'm tired of the darkness and the cursing and the wishing ill. I'm tired of the all caps and the yelling and the aspersions.

Examples: People calling Trump voters (who might not necessarily be "supporters," in the strictest sense of the word) racists and hillbillies and misogynists, etc. Conservatives telling "whiny liberals" to stop crying, etc. Big sigh.

I've seen families literally have to spend time apart because they are antagonizing each other. Oh my goodness, peoples, why?! You do not need to make that family member "see the light." I promise. We all have our viewpoints, and if you actually act in an uncivil manner toward someone or do something illegal or shady or whatever, I might call you on it, but otherwise, I'm going to assume you have well-thought-out reasons for voting the way you do... and it's supposed to be secret, anyway.

So maybe a little 1990s "don't ask/don't tell" is in order, if only to keep the family and/or neighborhood and/or reading club peace.

Now. There are a few things that have made me unfollow those groups I purposefully joined recently.

I was going to justify what I'm about to say by explaining my political position, but I decided not to. I don't need to justify this. It's true regardless of my opinions about the election. But let's just say that the criticisms I'm going to voice are of stances coming from what could conceivably be "my" side this election.

First, there's this whole safety pin thing, where allies (or "safe" people) wear a safety pin to indicate that they're willing to stand up for people of color, the LGBT community, refugees, immigrants, etc. Well, now there are people mad about THAT because they say white people don't get to "assuage guilt" by something dumb like wearing a pin. Um. That's not why I was doing it. I don't feel guilty.

Second, someone suggested not buying Christmas presents this year to hit the economy so "the stores" would take notice. "The stores" didn't vote for anyone. If you want to rachet down the commercialism of the holiday, great. Make stuff, do a gift swap with friends and used toys, etc. But to purposefully tank the economy just to prove a point? Hey, guess what? I live in this economy. So does everyone else, including people making minimum wage working at big box stores. And those people have families. The "notice" the stores might take if not performing up to expectations is likely to bear itself out in cutting hours or positions.

I am all for political statements, but I'm not participating in any "scorched earth" scenario, so no thanks.

Third, and probably last, because I really don't want to be vitriolic. I don't. But the #notmypresident thing? Well, it's been done, so it's already tired. However, not to put on a Captain Obvious cape or anything, but unless you defect to another country or you die between now and the new year, Donald Trump will, in actual fact, be your President. You don't have to love him. You are welcome to your embarrassment and horror that he has been elected. But as long as you're a US citizen, he'll be every bit as much your President as Barack Obama has been all of the denial declaimers' from 2008 and 2012.

That might just be semantics to you, but we've just spent weeks and weeks arguing that words are important. Do we mean it? Or do we just mean it for "them"?

Especially if you voted. If you voted, you cast an implied vote of confidence in the system that got Donald Trump elected. (If you didn't vote, you have more of a "right" to say "None of 'em are my President; I ain't part of that system," though you'd still be factually in error.) You would have accepted the outcome happily (more or less) if "your" candidate had won... So you can unhappily accept this outcome, but you really have no choice (except, again, expatriating yourself) but to accept it, since it's reality.

The absolute final thing I don't understand, anger-wise, is most of the people I know who are just ticked off about the past eight years and can't wait for a change in administration. Now, I do know that there are people who are genuinely struggling, financially or otherwise... but most of the people I know are firmly entrenched in the middle (even if lower middle) class, and their lives are not in peril or constant jeopardy, so I don't get the utter relief that this Presidency is closing out.

Also, many of the same ones calling "liberals" "whiny" or "sore losers" or whatever are the same people who have "charming" nicknames for our current President, which I will not repeat here because I don't want to give any of them credibility, nor call anyone out specifically for being rude.

But if you're a little affronted because you've done any of the above things? I'm not trying to hurt anyone's pride or feelings. I just want the ugliness to stop. We're all on the same side. We all want our country to be its best. I think most of us want that not to be at anyone else's expense, too.

So I appreciate the friends I've seen who are channeling their very strong feelings into action. Thank you for being such great examples of how to proactively combat feelings in order to stave off resentment and complacency. I want to be just like you guys when I grow up.

Exhaustion

Can I tell you something? I was ready to go back to bed by the time my husband left for work this morning.

"You're taking him with you, right?" I asked as the grown male person grabbed his keys.

I love my son. I adore him. He's my favorite. But I'm tired. And I don't mean "we're still not sleeping through the night" tired (though that's a huge part of it). I mean complete physical and emotional exhaustion, and I don't see an end within sight.

First, a few months ago, Mal had gotten to the point where he was only waking 4-6 times per night (those of you who have children who, like my first, are great sleepers, will cringe at that "only," but it was a definite improvement). Some times, he'd sleep through from the time he went to bed at 9:45-10:30 until 2. Once, he even slept until 4. Now we're getting somewhere!

Then he started skipping naps. At first, a couple of days a week. Now, he might nap once a week, but his norm is not to. If he falls asleep in the car, he might catch 20 minutes or so, and that's preferable to nothing, but typically, he's just up from whenever he gets up (which was 6:15 yesterday, but is usually closer to 7) until he goes to bed at night.

When THAT is varies, too. Yesterday, he tried to drift off at 5:30, but 6:30 is really the earliest I feel comfortable letting him doze off. So I kept waking him. He ended up staying awake until 7:40.

The nice part of the early bedtime is my having a few moments to my own thoughts and pursuits after he goes to bed. The down side is that 3/4 of the time, instead of sleeping through a few hours, he sleeps a while, wakes up, needs help resettling, and it ends up being a 2-3 hour process, like taking a true nap before he settles in for nighttime sleep.

Last night, by the time the Presidential Debate was over, he'd awakened 3 times (once it was a matter of my putting him back to sleep, using the restroom, and as I was walking back into the living room to watch, he was already crying for me). I was so tired and frustrated, I ended up just going to bed at 9:30.

Then Mal was awake very often, more times than I care to count, but I'd guess 10-12 times before 5 AM, after which time he woke up any time he unlatched from nursing. So we nursed constantly from 5 until he was ready to get out of bed at 7:15.

Now you can understand why I don't feel rested most mornings.

And if he were groggy and slow to wake, we could muddle along together in the mornings. But that's never the case.

He jumps out of bed with an enthusiastic, "Eat!" or "B!" (computer) or "Pak!" (park). This morning, it was all three. And he cried when I was physically unable to produce food, log into the computer to pull up a video, AND make sure he could swing simultaneously, eight seconds after I'd first sat upright for the day.

I started a video for him and pulled some food together, then started James' coffee and toast and sausage, and Mal and I headed into his room. After a few, Mal wanted to read a book, which he brought me, sitting in my lap regardless of the fact that I, too, was eating.

I closed the laptop to read the book, but he didn't like that, so he abandoned the book and opened the laptop. After about 1/4 of a song, he got the book back and closed the laptop himself. I read the book and said I was going to go finish up James' breakfast, at which time Mal said, "Deedees!" (which is how he's referring to "nursies" this week, I guess).

So.

We nursed, and I got up. He came into the kitchen crying and demanding. He wanted his dad's breakfast, which was exactly the same as his. He wanted a frozen yogurt tube. He wanted an apple. He wanted juice. He wanted a spoonful of sugar. He wanted a carrot I was peeling for our slow cooker roast dinner.

He wanted to ride on his horse. He wanted to watch more videos. He wanted to sit in a different seat. He wanted to stand on the cabinet. He wanted me to put toothpaste on a toothbrush he'd found in a drawer in his bedroom.

I went and got him toothpaste, and he chewed on the toothbrush for a moment before throwing it down and coming back for more food. He looked in the freezer and didn't like what he saw. He wanted his dad's lunch.

Then he disappeared around the corner to our room and I got the dinner prep finished. I knew to be afraid of what I'd find in the bathroom, but I loaded the dishwasher and started it before I went into the other room.

Fortunately, he was just standing in James' sink, talking about brushing his teeth, and gumming up the mirrors (which I clean on Mondays, anyway). I got him down, and we went into the other room.

He wanted this. He wanted that. He wanted to go to the gym, and the trampoline park, and the park with the swing. And I'm exhausted; I don't want to go anywhere for a while. I want to go slowly. He wants James' guitar. Not the one that's out and that he can play with, but the electric one that's in a case and that, every time he gets out, he gets so mad and screams because he wants to do something with it that none of us understands.

He cries in frustration when he can't open the case by himself. He cries in frustration when his attempts to bring me the case don't work as it's wedged in behind a chair. Then he SCREAMS when I tell him we're not opening it right now, and set it back up.

As a distraction, I go into the bathroom to clean it. He follows me in there. He usually likes to wipe stuff down. This time, though, he decides he wants to use the toilet. While I'm cleaning it. And it's pretty nasty, so I tell him to let me finish cleaning it, then we'll use it (if we were actually potty training, I'd drop it and throw him up there). He doesn't like my idea and keeps trying to put the seat down on top of my hands.

Finally, I get him set up and he's actually pooped already, so I have to go get stuff to clean that up. Fortunately, he sits still for all of it, but then I have to reclean the toilet, anyway.

When I finish that up, he decides it's time to go somewhere. He asks me, "Pak. Opu?" "The park is open, but we're not going anywhere right now." He goes to the door and when I don't follow him, he cries.

I go back into the bathroom to get the rest of the cleaning stuff, and... it's quiet. When I return to the kitchen, Mal's up on the counter, heading toward the sugar. This time, I tell him that I'll just get him some sugar, which I do after I put him on the floor. Two teaspoons later, and he's no longer obsessed with the idea. Sometimes it's easier that way.

I see that he's once again scratched his face, so we head into his room to trim his nails (again) and have a nice few minutes playing with a teddy bear book his grandma made him.

Then he gets out a toy drill whose batteries are dying. I go get the mini-tool kit to open it up. AAA. Go back to get batteries, and when I get back into Mal's room, he's pulled every mini screwdriver, bit, and attachment out of the tool kit.

We get the drill back up and running, and by the time I get the tools reorganized, he's bored with the drill and wants something else. I don't remember what. But I remember his crying.


It's 10 o'clock and I am ready for lunch. I've thought about that a lot lately. One reason I think the calorie-tracking and cutting back is so not freaking fun for me is that I don't get many breaks (James did take Mal on several "adventures" this weekend, so I *do* get some down time, and I appreciate that), and eating food I really enjoy is that my taste buds can have a big old party, even if the rest of me just wants to crawl back into bed.

Oh, also, I'm on DAY TEN of my period. And this convergence of stuff is why I had pb&j trail mix, a Little Debbie bat brownie, and a Hostess cupcake for lunch. And, yes, I counted it all. I'll still be within my allotment. The cupcake was an accident. I meant to grab a brownie and grabbed the wrong thing. And, yes, I had to eat it. I didn't want to hurt its feelings.

I was doing something in the living room or kitchen or bathroom or something when Mal went into his room and after a few minutes started fussing. He came into the living room and was frustrated that he couldn't get the rest of the yogurt out of the tube on his own. I helped him, then went into his room knowing what I'd find. It wasn't as bad as I thought it might be, but I gotta remember to take messy food out of his room when I leave.

Anyway, at one point, Mal wanted some of my soda, which I gladly (kind of) offered to share. He got a bamboo straw, but I don't like the feel of that straw, and I didn't want it in my soda, so I got a silicone straw instead. That's typically what he uses, anyway, but because he hadn't picked it out this time, he was infuriated. He started screaming and crying --

(Aside: D showed me a video once, a game play-through. It's some horror game, and is supposed to be scary, but this one glitch makes the whole thing accidentally hilarious. Anyway, there's this dead baby ghost running through the house crying, and even when you can't see it, you can hear it. D said, "That's my life: a baby vaguely crying in the background." Guys, this kid cries A LOT. It's demoralizing. I get that it's how he communicates. I get it. But, still... it wears on a person after TWO YEARS.)

-- And I said, firmly, "You have to stop screaming because you're not getting your way!" I crouched down in front of him to take the straw, and was grabbing it rather roughly when I noticed his genuine tears. I said, "Mal, it doesn't always happen the way that you want it to happen. You have to learn how to be patient while we get things ready, and learn to appreciate things the way that they are. We're trying our best." Then I just sat there and kind of rubbed his back. He kept sobbing, but I could tell he was trying not to wail.

Eventually, I pulled him in for a hug, and he wrapped his arms around my neck and climbed into my lap.

When he felt better, he hopped up and ran into his room. I just sat there, crouched in the floor, absolutely no energy. He noticed, came back, and leaned in for another quick hug.

I think God gives me those moments to help recharge me; otherwise, I'd probably just lie in the fetal position some days.

James said this weekend, "I never thought I'd be a TV-babysitter dad." And he's not. But Mal likes to watch music videos (and, recently, PBS Kids, which is a nice change to the 20-something songs we've listened to over and over again for a year) and, frankly, at times it's the only way to divert his intensity away from demanding things of us. So we never suggest, "Let's watch some TV!" but if he asks for it, we almost never refuse him, unless we're trying to get out of the house for something.

It's how I was able to write this blog post.

Not sure this post has a point. Mostly whining. And now Mal wants "Deedees," so I have to go.

This is Mal's first superhero. He looked and looked and he wanted one with hair. :D