Pictures that would have gone with last night's entry

In our very small bedroom lives a bed, a crib, and a giant hutch. Both our dressers have to live in the guestroom now. Mine has been in there since he came home, now Pete gets to sleep in a different room than his clothes, too.

Because it was time, because he's too huge for his co-sleeper:


Yeah, that doesn't work.

The first crib night went as follows:
Pete put him into the bed, asleep, at 10:00.
I went to bed at 10:30, reset the clock at 10:32, read four pages, and he was whining and sitting up.
I got him out and put him back in, asleep, at 10:49.
At 10:59, he was rolling around and crying.
at 11:02, he was standing and whining.
At 11:10, I gave him to Pete.
At 11:16. Pete put him back into his crib, asleep.
At 2:37, he woke up, fussing. He nursed to sleep and did not wake me up again until 4:00 or so, but I can't remember exactly what time. I think he only bothered me once after that, but he did not go back into his crib after I got him out at 2:37.

I suppose it could have been worse.

Brain, Shut Down

As I lay awake last night, into this morning, all the way until four a.m. when Pete brought Finn to me, leaving me awake for a few more hours, I listened to my brain grind. I churned over things that I had to do. I thought about not being able to sleep. I figured if I did fall asleep, the baby would just wake up at that moment, and I'd be on again. I haven't had what used to pass for sleep in a couple of weeks. My patience has been worn down to a shiny, though not attractive for its luster, nub. Even what used to pass for sleep was at most three straight hours followed by fitful spans of 30 minutes or so.

I decided last night that, before I try to go to sleep, I need to sit down and dump the contents of my brain somewhere, preferably not by unloading on Pete or howling at the moon. Perhaps by writing. Something. Anything. It does not have to be in this space, but it has to get the bits and pieces out of my space.

Today, Pete's mom arrived for a week's visit, during which she will be Finn's primary care giver during the day. The day care is on vacation. The main accomplishment so far has been the rearranging of our bedroom to accommodate a crib. I'd take a picture, but he appears to be sleeping in it at the moment, though I doubt it will last long. Last night he slept in bursts of 30 minutes. We finally gave him Tylenol, and he finally settled down, but I could not sleep. I got up and hung up and sorted clothes. I looked up how to make a fruit fly trap. I read. I listened to my brain clicking away.

The crib is the next thing. At the very least, it uncluttered our room a little bit, getting the cosleeper and pack-n-play out of there and stowed away, though I am a bit sorry to see the cosleeper go. He's just too big for it, and we had to listen for him very closely as the moment he would wake up, he was sitting up and ready to get himself right out of it. With the crib, at least we know that he can't hurl himself over the edge yet.

It's the crib my brother and I slept in, and it bears his teeth marks. Finn started chomping on it immediately the moment I set him in there to check it out. He crawled all around it and seemed quite pleased with himself. I doubt he will feel the same when he wakes up in there.

When I go to bed in a few minutes, I resolve not to think about work or the book or the savings account or the bathtub that needs scrubbing. I won't concern myself with what I am going to be when I grow up. I'll leave off fretting about family and friends. And I'll put a notepad by the bed.

I did get my haircut yesterday.

That was nice.

I Feel Like There's Something I am Missing

As you may be able to tell from the lack of postings, it has not been the best of days. The first four teeth came in without fanfare. The next two are more bombastic. The Boy has been running a teething fever off and on, is biting and chewing on everything, and is generally a pain in the ass, especially at night. So it's me; I am the one who has to deal with the night-time problems, and I am exhausted. To the point of staring and being unable to think at times. I have plenty to say, much that I wish I were writing about, even some notes that I have yet to type in, but I can't bring myself to do it. Even logging on to do this was difficult, and I love to write.


It seems lately that I can't go an hour without yelling "OW!" Ultimate Fighting Baby is biting, pinching, slapping, and clawing me quite regularly. Were I insecure or deranged, it would be easy to think that he does not like me or is a budding sociopath. Neither is true, though I do believe that I had my first taste of bald defiance today.

While out in the garden snipping some herbs for dinner, he wanted the scissors. I tried to tempt him with a bit of plant. He wanted scissors. I said "No," and kept them out of his reach. He swiped at me and clawed my neck. I yelled "OW!" and he sat there on my hip, looking at me impassively. I brought him in and gave him to Pete.

He's asleep now, and Pete just went to bed with his book (He's reading John Adams). I should go to bed, but I don't want to, even though I am tired. I have so little time to myself, time that does not involve chores or baby or husband or work, that I just want to be by myself in a silent house, enjoying a Guinness until I DECIDE that I want to go to bed.

I'm reading two books right now. "American Sphinx" about Thomas Jefferson and "Renegade" about Barack Obama (I have not read the review I just linked). How's that for juxtaposition? I am almost done with the former and half way through the latter. But the latter is from the library, and I know I won't be able to renew it because someone else will want it, so I have to finish it first.

Both of them are quite interesting. Especially when read so close together. I have an enduring fascination with Mr. Jefferson and a great respect for Mr. Obama. Both are interesting characters, and it's nice that I am around to witness this small section of history. I wish I could go back and witness the other.


It's an interesting time, this small section of history, the one transpiring in my house. Until he sleeps, I don't think it will be much different, and I am not sure how to get him to sleep. We plan on setting up the crib, but we have to figure out how and where. Our house is small, and the bedrooms don't have much room for maneuvering. I have some crib measurements with which I plan to experiment, hopefully this weekend, but I also have to clean and work on the book I am editing. There's not much time, in the time that is mine, to make room for these things, as the time that is mine is divided between baby, husband, house, work, and then me. Though Husband would probably say that he gets little or nothing, it's not true from where I stand.

Tomorrow, I am going with a friend to get her hair cut. It's long and beautiful, but it's boring her, and she wants a change. I offered her a haircut as a belated birthday present. It should be fun. At least it gets me out of the house. Maybe, if Jonny has time, I'll get mine cut, too. It needs it, and he's awesome. I've been to the salon numerous times in the last few months, but not for myself.


It smells like baby poop in here.

Time Passages

When I voted, Finn was 5 months old and 11 pounds, 9 ounces or so. I was still using the sling when we went walking, rustling through autumn leaves. Now, we are finally about to have two senators, he's about 17 pounds and crawling, and the summer flowers are blooming.

Congratulations, Senator Franken.

yeah, he's crawling

Reunited, and it feels so...

Good?

There was a reunion at the NICU today, and I was eager to go. I know that some parents can't stand to go near the place, but I am thankful for my healthy son, and they were an integral part in making that happen. While we were driving into the parking ramp, Pete experienced the same anxiety he experienced whenever we came to visit Finn, but I didn't have that. The place is still as familiar as it was last year, but it doesn't upset me. All I could think was that it was interesting to be bringing Finn into Childrens'.

There were a lot of people there. More than I expected. Families were milling about the entire second floor. It must have been weird to be coming to see your baby in the NICU with all the festivities going on outside the unit.

They had a short program with former patients, now going to college, as well as a musical act and characters dressed up in Wizard of Oz garb. We did not get our photo taken with them. It creeped me out a little bit.

There were craft areas with stickers and face painting, but Finn is a little young for that stuff. We only saw one nurse who had taken care of Finn and none of the doctors. I had been hoping for that, but, heck, they are probably working, and if you are not working, then you don't want to be at work. They are putting together an album for them, though, with current photos and updates, and I submitted one of those.


We ate some cheese and fruit, talked to a couple of soccer players from the Minnesota Thunder (the coach had a daughter in the NICU 5 years ago), and went into the gift shop for the first time, where Pete bought Finn a Grover stuffed doll. We never went into the gift shop while Finn was a patient. There did not seem to be a need. I got some information on volunteering, and I am thinking about doing that in my "spare time."

When I find some.

Titanic

Pete's recording with The Hounds of Finn this weekend. I had the boy yesterday, and he took him with him today, so I could go to the Titanic Artifacts exhibit at the Science Museum. All in all, I would say that it's a good show, though I think that they should add some focus on the science side of things: how they retrieved the artifacts, how they are preserved... exactly why there is wood and leather, but I get no human bones (come on, everyone is wondering). You know, that sort of thing. It's a lot of history, which is cool, but this is the Science Museum. There's room for them to tell me how, at 12450 feet below the surface of the ocean, at 6000 psi, there are bottles of champagne with champagne in them. How did the face powder survive? What about the paper? What exactly is going on when iron brought to the surface explodes.

These are things that inquiring minds want to know.

Also, I'd like to know why I would buy my child a Titanic coloring book, containing scenes like this:

I mean, is this from the Disaster Series?

Can I get a Donner Party Coloring Book? September 11th? Antietam?

I always thought it was horrifying that this is considered an amusement ride:
Come on kids! Play while you can! We're going down!