I am 33-weeks pregnant now. NOW. That means 7 more weeks to go. SEVEN MORE. The reason for my conspicuously obvious math is that I am sooooo tired of being pregnant. I have a short torso, so the only place for this baby to go, literally, is out. And apparently in order to balance my hugely protruding belly, my rear has swollen to maintain some sort of equilibrium. Neither of these annexes leaves me feeling anything but bulbous and sore. Rolling over in bed is a hilarious feat not only because of my bizarre shape, that, DESPITE ITS ROTUNDITY, does not roll. I have to oomph over to my side, and hurmph onto my hands and knees and flop down on my other side. Needless to say that this hourly activity all night long does not give me lots of time to rest comfortably, and apparently is starting to affect Dan's sleeping as well. I sincerely do not feel the teensiest bit of guilt over this, because Dan has been snoring FOR YEARS. Face rattling, wake-yourself-up-from-REM-sleep snores that are bewilderingly issued out of his tiny nose.
But...I digress ("MOM! We don't say "butt!"). I saw and read some things today that made me reconsider my whining and remember that I am very thankful to have a pregnancy that has come this far, and been this healthy. I hope that my baby girl continues to grow and eventually make a perfectly-timed, yet hasty exit from my uterus. WITH MINIMAL DAMAGE. I will throw you a sweet-sixteen party for the love of God just don't break anything on your way out. Then we can always compare sweet little you to your bull-in-a-china-shop brother who ruined things for QUITE A WHILE.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
An Immovable Object
Jack wanted to sit next to me on the couch. I scooted over a little bit (AS MUCH AS IS PREGNANTLY POSSIBLE) and he informed me, "Mommy, you are too fat." I heard Dan gasp. I looked my beautiful child in the eyes and said, "I hope you get a mean wife."
Monday, August 3, 2009
This Old Child
Jack has reached some major milestones with his style of play. He now makes appropriate sound-effects for all of his toys, and will sit, engrossed in some state of dramatic make-believe, and play for 30-minutes at a time. THIRTY MINUTES. He is also very bossy about the imaginary situations he develops and will explain, to great length, why things are happening, and why you are doing it completely wrong.
He has also developed quite a capacity for bargaining, bartering and charming his way into and out of many situations. I try to see this as evidence of how smart he is, and how quickly he is becoming life-savvy.
He charmed us into taking him to McDonalds this weekend, and after eating, quickly ran to the play area. Unfortunately that day the play area was overrun with kids who were probably way too old and large to be playing there, and they wouldn't let Jack up to the upper-level of the hamster-maze tube farm. He was understandably upset, and we left quickly, explaining to him that some kids are just NOT nice. It was so sad to see his reaction--he could not fathom why someone would be mean to a stranger. He explained to us, through his tears, that when he meets a stranger he says, "hi!" and tries to play with them. "Why those kids not say 'hi!' to me? Why those kids not let me play?" I had no answer for him (at least not one that he would understand, or that didn't contain some choice words about those childrens' parents). I know that these are situations that are a part of growing up, a part of learning from the actions of others about what kind of person you don't want to be, but it was very bittersweet to see him losing a piece of his innocence. I am glad that I was there to provide support and guidance, and to wipe away his tears, but it saddened me nonetheless. C'est la vie: jerks included.
He has also developed quite a capacity for bargaining, bartering and charming his way into and out of many situations. I try to see this as evidence of how smart he is, and how quickly he is becoming life-savvy.
He charmed us into taking him to McDonalds this weekend, and after eating, quickly ran to the play area. Unfortunately that day the play area was overrun with kids who were probably way too old and large to be playing there, and they wouldn't let Jack up to the upper-level of the hamster-maze tube farm. He was understandably upset, and we left quickly, explaining to him that some kids are just NOT nice. It was so sad to see his reaction--he could not fathom why someone would be mean to a stranger. He explained to us, through his tears, that when he meets a stranger he says, "hi!" and tries to play with them. "Why those kids not say 'hi!' to me? Why those kids not let me play?" I had no answer for him (at least not one that he would understand, or that didn't contain some choice words about those childrens' parents). I know that these are situations that are a part of growing up, a part of learning from the actions of others about what kind of person you don't want to be, but it was very bittersweet to see him losing a piece of his innocence. I am glad that I was there to provide support and guidance, and to wipe away his tears, but it saddened me nonetheless. C'est la vie: jerks included.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
What goes around...
The back story:
I am 3 and sitting at the breakfast table while my pregnant mother hustles around getting ready to get me to the sitter's. She asks, standing at the fridge, if I would like juice or milk with my cereal.
"Um, juice!" I exclaim.
She brings the juice over to the table only to be told (by me) that I changed me mind. "Milk please!"
She goes back and gets the milk, brings it to the table, and I again pipe up, "No, juice!"
So my poor aggravated mother squats down to look me in the eye. "Lauren," she says, struggling to remain calm (and probably also struggling not to choke me), "this is your last chance...do you want juice or milk?"
I look at her, smile and say, "I'll give you a clue..."
-----------
Well, fast forward 27 years and I am standing in the kitchen, trying to get Jack to commit to a drink choice for dinner.
"Jack, do you want juice or milk?" He ignores me.
"JACK!" I yell, "Do you want JUICE or MILK or WHAT!?" (I hate it when he ignores me.)
He finally acknowledges my question and shrugs and says, "OR WHAT!"
I am 3 and sitting at the breakfast table while my pregnant mother hustles around getting ready to get me to the sitter's. She asks, standing at the fridge, if I would like juice or milk with my cereal.
"Um, juice!" I exclaim.
She brings the juice over to the table only to be told (by me) that I changed me mind. "Milk please!"
She goes back and gets the milk, brings it to the table, and I again pipe up, "No, juice!"
So my poor aggravated mother squats down to look me in the eye. "Lauren," she says, struggling to remain calm (and probably also struggling not to choke me), "this is your last chance...do you want juice or milk?"
I look at her, smile and say, "I'll give you a clue..."
-----------
Well, fast forward 27 years and I am standing in the kitchen, trying to get Jack to commit to a drink choice for dinner.
"Jack, do you want juice or milk?" He ignores me.
"JACK!" I yell, "Do you want JUICE or MILK or WHAT!?" (I hate it when he ignores me.)
He finally acknowledges my question and shrugs and says, "OR WHAT!"
Monday, July 27, 2009
Slacker
Me, to Jack, who is army-crawling up the stairs: Can you get up and walk please? This is taking forever.
Jack: My legs are a little bit rusty. I have to go this way.
Jack: My legs are a little bit rusty. I have to go this way.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Happy American Birthday!
Jack had a great time over the 4th of July weekend. We spent a lot of time at the pool where he repeatedly attempted to drown. He will launch himself into the water with no warning, with no fear. It is as if he believes, deep down inside, that his huge bulbous head is a built in flotation device. Needless to say after Dan's hair started visibly falling out I suggested that he let Jack actually go under one time and that might cure him of his dare-devil ways. After plunging in and spluttering to the surface Jack coughed water all over Dan and then said, "I wanna do that again!" Can you say backfire? So this week we purchased a straight-jacket-flotation device which should help Jack learn to swim and keep him above the surface of the water. I can't guarantee he won't still be swallowing half of the pool each visit because the child will NOT keep his mouth shut in the water. He screams, squeals, yells, shouts, talks loudly and laughs the ENTIRE time. He is easily the loudest person at the pool--louder than the lifeguard's whistle, louder than the gang of teenagers trying to to out-bellyflop each other, louder than the group of 11-year old girls playing marco polo. He is still the loudest person in the place EVEN FROM THE BATHROOM where his little voice echos out and floats over the surface of the water: "Look at my poops Daddy!"
Monday, June 29, 2009
Lingo
While watching television this weekend, Jack saw a new cartoon that he really liked and proclaimed, "That is so Bad Ask!" I had to shake my head. I blame Dan.
Jack is learning the basics of cause and effect. For example, how much trouble can he cause before I effectively lose my temper. My parents have drawn a funny parallel to my child-rearing technique: I parent like my father (who, ironically, I can remember intentionally pushing to his limits on a weekly basis) and Dan parents like my Mom (absolutely no B.S.). I feel OK with this because one) no one takes me seriously anyway; two) I learned a lot from both of them; and tres) that's Spanish for "three." I do, however, wonder how much this situation will change when a little girl comes into the picture?
Jack is learning the basics of cause and effect. For example, how much trouble can he cause before I effectively lose my temper. My parents have drawn a funny parallel to my child-rearing technique: I parent like my father (who, ironically, I can remember intentionally pushing to his limits on a weekly basis) and Dan parents like my Mom (absolutely no B.S.). I feel OK with this because one) no one takes me seriously anyway; two) I learned a lot from both of them; and tres) that's Spanish for "three." I do, however, wonder how much this situation will change when a little girl comes into the picture?
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