Again?

So we're going on vacation this weekend.

Yes, again.

San Diego is this month's destination. I have never been, so I am excited to spend a few days in the warmth and sunshine by the ocean. Without the child. I plan to sleep in, read and chill out.

And on Monday, live from San Diego, I will announce the new website.

I know, shameless self-promotion AND making you wait on pins and needles!

Not using our inside voices

The screaming. Oh my, the screaming.

Jack has decided that if we take something away from him -- you know, like a bottle of cleaning fluid or a cigarette -- he should scream. If we tell him no, he can not touch the hot stove, he should scream. If he can't fit the circle in the square hole on his block container, he should scream.

Sometimes, just for the hell of it, he screams. And then looks at me to see what I am going to do about it.

I have tried ignoring it. I have tried reasoning with him. I have tried getting on his level and giving him a stern NO SCREAMING. I have tried saying calmly, "We don't scream."

Last night he tried this little trick at a restaurant when he no longer wanted to eat a quesadilla. So he started screaming at the decible-level of a jumbojet. With a fantastic pitch just below what only dogs can hear.

I scooped him up out of his high chair, took him outside and told him "We do not scream. If you are done, you need to say 'all done' or sign it. You don't scream."

And I shit you not, the kid looked me right in the eye and screamed. And then laughed.

Me, not so much with the laughing. Instead, I was biting my lip trying not to laugh.

Seriously, how do they instinctively know to make themselves so damn cute?

Moving on

For the last six years, Josh has worked on the same consulting project. In consulting circles, that is almost unheard of. It's kind of like dog years in that way, so really, he's been there for 42 years.

We had only been seriously dating about two months when he started a project at a large insurance company in central Illinois. Which shall remain nameless, lest I blog about his work, which we all know is never a good idea. But for the record, I am not blogging about my work, and I know "they" are reading this blog, so let's all wave hello to the nice lawyer-types from my former company. Please, pull up a chair and stay awhile. We love guests. Can I get you a beverage? No? OK. Moving on.

For the first year, he would be gone all week and I would see him on weekends. I was working in the office at that time, so I wasn't in a position to be galavanting all over the state.

But the next year, I started working from home, so I began going with him every few weeks. We got to spend more time together, and it was kind of a novelty for me to hang out in a new place.

Somehow the every few weeks turned into every week and suddenly I found myself living in Bloomington. Every Sunday night we would pack up and leave. Every Thursday night we came home. We had our fun weekends in Chicago and everything was fine and dandy.

When I was pregnant, I didn't come to Bloomington for five months because of the bedrest and birth. But when Jack was a month old, he too started the weekly trek. We made things easy on ourselves and got two of everything. Two cribs, two exersaucers, two high chairs, two sets of toys, two sets of clothes.

This week we found out he is rolling off the project. Next week, for the first time in six years, he won't be working in Bloomington.

Except now we have all this shit. Two cribs, two exersaucers, two high chairs, two sets of toys, two sets of clothes. And one house to keep it in. One house with one very small amount of storage.

Oh my.

We'll be hosting a yard sale next weekend. But we won't be getting rid of any baby stuff. Everyone knows that's the fastest way to get yourself pregnant. Instead, we'll be piece-mealing things to Josh's parents, my parents and my sister.

MY SISTER WHO IS ADOPTING A BABY FROM GUATEMALA AND OHMYHOLYHELL ARE WE EXCITED!

(Obviously a whole other post for another time, but it's very exciting times in our family and everyone is anxiously awaiting their referral, which is *supposed* to come in April.)

Since I am unemployed, the packing of the townhouse falls to me. Fun.

You see, when we moved to our house in Chicago two years ago, Josh brought toooooonnnnnsssss of shit to Bloomington for storage. And I kept warning him whatever he brought to Bloomington was staying in Bloomington. It was under no circumstances and penalty of death allowed back. No. Just, no.

Guess who wants to bring some stuff back to Chicago? I will give you one guess and his name starts with J and ends with H and is NOT Jehovah.

So the next few days will be a whirlwind of activity. The packing and the watching of the baby and the cleaning and the traveling to San Diego for the weekend and the launching of the new website.

Wait, what? A new website? One of those new-fangled www things? You don't say!

Details before the end of the week my friends.

Weighty matters

Friday we took Jack to see his pediatrician. We wanted to make sure he was gaining weight properly since he can't drink whole milk.

I knew he was getting heavier, because my biceps are looking like I got a "B-12" shot in the ass from Miguel Tejada. But I was hoping he was keeping up with his curve. He's been drinking rice milk for a month now, with a few ounces a day of goat's milk thrown in for kicks. It hasn't been bothering him, so we've stuck with that.

The doctor said first thing he wanted to do was weigh him. If he was still on his curve, we wouldn't even need to talk about my concerns because they would be a moot point.

Imagine my surprise when we put out little 10-percenter on the scale and he had gained 2.5 pounds IN ONE MONTH.

Apparently, I was starving him with the breastmilk. Because since we weaned, he's porking out. He went from between the 10-25th percentiles for weight (which he's been at since birth) to between the 25-50th percentiles.

We are stuffing him full of almond butter and avocado every day and sneaking things like olive oil into the preparation of his food. (Note to self: avoid avocado and almond butter if trying to lose weight.)

The belly that ate Chicago is growing by leaps and bounds on this kid, which is great. I am thrilled to see him move into the average range. Yay for mediocrity!

His doctor said he wants us to try phasing some whole milk in gradually. He said rice milk doesn't have nearly enough fat for the long term and goat's milk is missing some key vitamin growing kids need in their diets.

So dutiful patients that we are, we will start that next week. Maybe the Easter bunny will bring Jack a basket of cheese, yogurt and milk. Because nothing says "let's celebrate the resurrection of our Lord" like a little dairy-induced diarrhea.

Bully Girl

On Fridays, I take Jack to a little play/music class in the neighborhood. It's a nice setup, a huge room that looks like a meadow with tons of space for the kids to get their groove on.

They sing songs, dance, play with stuffed animals and then play instruments. He seems to like it, but it's a huge class with a range from 1-2 years old. Our old class was for crawlers, which was so nice and calm and small. But he outgrew it when he started walking, so we moved to the older class.

Our friend Madonna and her little girl, Elena, are also in the class, which is really fun. I get to have a Mommy friend there and Jack and Elena, who are three weeks apart, get to play together.

But the last several classes, a little blonde girl has been pushing Jack. And not a slight push, but an all-out shove that sends him on his ass and then she plops down on top of him. It's like she's some sumo wrestler going for the pin.

Now I am all for my kid working things out on his own, but this little girl is definitely closer to 2 years old and she's big. She also doesn't seem at all remorseful about her bully role.

I have learned the rules of the playground well so far: you don't parent someone else's kid. If a child is doing something to Jack that is inappropriate or unsafe, I am going to just remove Jack from the situation. It's not my place to correct the other kid.

But Bully Girl's mom was not at the class. Her nanny brings her every week. And the nanny doesn't say a word as Bully Girl shoves Jack. And that's when I have a problem.

Get off your ass and open your mouth to your charge. And if you don't want to do that, the least you can do is keep your eye on her so if she gets close to pushing, you can step in and play a little prevent defense.

Today I had enough and I gave the nanny a super dirty look, pulled Jack out from under the little girl, and told Bully Girl, "No! You can't push him down. That's not nice."

Nanny comes over when she sees the dirty look and apologizes to me. Doesn't tell Bully Girl to apologize, doesn't tell Bully Girl not to push other kids, nothing. Which pissed me off even more.

So now I feel like I have to watch Bully Girl like a hawk. And that's crap. I shouldn't have to worry about my 13-month-old getting pushed down in a class where we sing songs about butterflies.

Next week, I think I might just trip her when I see her going anywhere near Jack.

Head Bangers Ball

When you get frustrated because you can't figure out how to complete a task or don't get your way, is your first instinct to bang your head on the floor or the wall or any hard surface that's handy?

Because, apparently no one told me, that's what toddlers do.

Last week, Jack started this little routine. At first, we were alarmed. Oh my god! He'll knock himself out! Stop him!

But then, we started recognizing he might be doing it for attention. So we tried ignoring it. That just made him madder, resulting in more head-butting.

Finally, I consulted the Internets because if Al Gore invented it, by God, it should have an answer. As always, my Google Medical Degree comes in handy. I found that this is totally normal.

Toddler around Jack's age (13.5 months) understand everything you say to them. But they don't have the ability to communicate back to you with words. So everything frustrates them, from trying to put a square block in a triangle opening to letting you know that "NO I DO NOT WANT MORE BANANA SO GET THAT SHIT OUT OF MY FACE."

Instead, they bang their head. When they learn to talk, or are sick of knocking themselves silly, it stops.

(Maybe I should start trying this tactic with Josh when I don't get something I want. Next time he says he doesn't want to do something, I am going to walk up to him and bang my forehead right into his knee. Then we'll see who's boss.)

Best advice on how to deal with this behavior, which OF COURSE was from Moxie, said to wrap them in your arms when they start the behavior and to give words to them. So a tight hug and a little "I know it's frustrating when you can't get your sock off. I am sorry you feel that way."

Amazingly, when we started doing this, the head-banging ceased pretty quickly.

So now we have less bruising and more hugging. Which is, you know, always a good thing.

Dirty diaper dancing

Word up?

Now that I am not working, you'd think I would have more time for blogging. You would be correct. But of course, that would mean I would need motivation for blogging. And that, I do not have.

But, for you all, I will suck it up. I will find something to talk about. I will satisfy the readers and be witty and insightful and bring meaning to everyone's lives.

Or, I could just talk about poop.

Today, I was getting ready to take Jack to Kindermusik and was busy tying my shoes for, you know, 30 SECONDS, when Jack toddles off to his bedroom. The gate was closed, the doors to the office and bathroom were closed, I figured it was fine.

Within 10 seconds, I see him running out of his room with something in his hand.

"Hmmm," I think to myself, "That looks an awful lot like a diaper."

Ah, yeah. That WAS a diaper. The dirty one from this morning.

As I lunge for it, he of course spins on his heel and runs from me, holding it closer to his body. And laughing hysterically. As I am chasing him saying, "Yucky! That's yucky! Give that to Mommy!"

I finally get it away from him and go to not only put it in back in the diaper pail, but to pick up the wipes he has scattered around the room as well. After washing his hands, (have you ever tried to wash a toddler's hands? It's like herding cats) we finally got ready and out the door.

So if you thought you had a rough day at work, all this happened before 9:15 a.m. at my house. And yes, it was the most exciting part of the day.

There's a fire in my heart

So let's review.

Yesterday, since you know, I GOT FIRED, I took Jack to the playground. It was 75 degrees here. Bee-you-ti-ful spring day. What a great day to get fired!

Today, I hung out with Jack in the morning and then Grandma watched him while I worked on "new business ventures" upstairs.

What's that you ask? New business ventures? But what about the crying? And the hiding under the covers? And the depression, my God, the depression.

No, no! You see, that would be for people who liked their jobs and were unceremoniously shit-canned. I absolutely hated my job. With the white-hot passion of the sun. The dread of html coding and page design and mind-numbing busy work hung heavy over my life.

Oh but the benefits were large. Free health insurance. I worked on the couch while Jack played on the floor in front of me. I went to baby classes with internet on my phone and stayed in touch with the office. I got in free to a certain sport's games.

I would love to tell you more. But oh, woe is me, I have to have an attorney review the agreement they are using to extort my severance pay. I pretty much can't say anything disparaging about anyone or anything even remotely related to this sports league. For the rest of my natural life. And beyond. I bet they could carbon-date the blog posts in the year 2159.

And trust me, the stories I can tell! I once got reprimanded for going to sleep at 10 p.m. and not being available online. Did I mention the supervisor not a single person in the company gets along with? Oh my. The crazy, it surrounded me. But wait, that might be disparaging. I would never disparage anyone. I love everyone. Let's all build a campfire and roast marshmallows! I love crazy. Did you know Justin Timberlake was actually going to call his single, "Bringing Crazy Back," but then changed his mind?

I know! Crazy!

And we all know about people who got fired for their blogs. But have we covered the topic of bloggers being gagged by severance agreements? Give me liberty or give me death! First Amendment! The best defense against libel is truth! This is truthiness at its finest!

So no, no sadness here for the job reassignment. I like to think I have been reassigned to the department of Stay At Home Mothering. The pay is lousy, but you get to nap on the job! And play in the sandbox. And pick up worms off the sidewalk. And while I deal with a lot of shit in this new job, it's nothing compared to the shit I was taking at the old one. But as someone I used to work with once pointed out, even shit starts to taste good after it's been forced down your throat enough times. And it tasted good! I liked it!

But no more. Today is a new day. A day I felt completely calm and didn't have a sense of dread following me like a dark cloud. Today I worked on a new venture that will make money for our family and I actually enjoyed what I was doing. What a novel concept.

And no, it's not a Mommy Blog Novel. But it is something baby related. And I am excited about it! So stay tuned for details in the coming weeks.

I am adding a thought here as I post. This had to be edited about 30 times before I sent it live because I had to make sure I was not disparaging anyone. It kills me to self-edit. Because this shit is good. You would laugh til you cried, because it was just so unbelievable.

I shall leave you with one of my better tales from the trenches. I made a mistake last week and after I was belittled, via Instant Messenger no less, the person (who was a supervisor) finished with, "You make us all look like idiots."

That's me, making everyone look like idiots for six years! Man, I should make that the new tagline for this blog!

Fired Up

I am writing to you as a newly-minted unemployed stay-at-home-mom blogger.

I was FIRED today.

Good times.

Obviously, I can't say much. Legal details and all.

Suffice it to say, I feel the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders.

Jack is 13 Months Old

So I couldn't decide if I should continue with the monthly letters past 12. I mean how many is too many? And then how do you decide to cut it off? And wow, that's a whole lot of pressure every month to come up with something. I mean what if an animal ate my arm off and I couldn't type and then I felt bad about not posting?

So instead I am just going to do a little roundup post. Kind of a "greatest hits" of the last month. Bullets would be nice. Lazy, but nice. So I will actually try to form coherent sentences and use actual segues.

This month Jack finally clapped. For the last several months, we would ask him to clap and he would wave at us. We would clap for him and he would look at us like we had squirrels on our heads instead of hair. We tried it all, to no avail.

But just this past weekend we were at lunch with some friends and he started a slow clap. Our friends must have thought I was a lunatic clapper fan because I kept interrupting the conversation to tell Josh to watch him clap.

We get out a lot, as you can tell.

He also has mastered the art of turning on his crib soother. Now, in the middle of the night, instead of hearing whining and crying, we hear the strains of Baby Einstein melodies. It's a little weird to wake up at 3 a.m. and think you are at a classic music concert, but hey, it beats a 3 a.m. screamfest.

He's also starting to change his sleep habits. The 11 hours overnight is nice, I'm not going to lie to ya. And he had been taking two one-hour naps during the day. But then he started taking longer and longer to actually fall asleep for his afternoon naps. A few times now we have done one-nap days and they have gone well. The first time we tried it, he was awake for six hours and slept for two hours and 45 minutes. I almost fell off the couch when I saw the completion time.

But the good sleeping is somewhat mitigated by the picky eating. Previously enjoyed foods are now met with disgust. We try to give him vegetables -- green beans, peas, carrots -- in real people form and he spits them out the minute they touch his tongue. But spoon them out of a babyfood jar and he's all about them. Other non-hits include eggs in any form, hot dogs, turkey sandwiches, homemade pasta, hamburgers and french toast. Oh but his almond butter -- sweet, sweet almond butter than he loves more than life itself -- is making up for the deficiencies in his toddler diet.

This was also the month of the intolerance. Can't drink cow's milk. Can't drink soy milk. Can drink rice milk. Has started drinking a SMALL amount of goat's milk each day, with no ill effects yet. Of course, as I typed that the fates are laughing hysterically and will now send the eczema plague upon our house.

Jack has started to run here and there. Arms up, head back, laughing hysterically. This summer should be so much fun if he keeps up this daredevil manuever. We'll have skinned knees and faces left and right.

He's also up to nine words now. He can say mama, dada, kitty, this, baby, buh-bye, boom, pig and duck. So far, pig, duck and buh-bye have only been said a few times, but baby is a crowd favorite right now. He always has to call out the babies in his books and give them kisses before we can move on to the next page.

This is becoming such a fun age. Every day he learns something new or shows us a skill we had no idea he possessed.

If you're happy and you know it...

Behold, the child finally claps! That only took 13 months. But by God, he is a champion clapper already.

Seriously, I dare you to resist this face. YOU CAN'T DO IT!

And they all fall down

Can you imagine spending three-quarters of your day falling down? Like you are just walking along, minding your own business, and you just fall on your ass. Or you trip and stumble to your knees.

That's what it is like to be an almost-13-month-old.

I was watching Jack today and realized he isn't even fazed by his falls any more. He just uses it as an opportunity to check out a new toy he falls next to, or to lie on his back and smile, or to roll over and turn in a new direction.

His new thing is to run towards something -- no looking where he is going, chin up, eyes closed and arms outstretched. He inevitably gets about six good steps in before he gets too close to something and either trips or just falls. Of course he is laughing maniacally while he does this.

Sometimes he just plops down and picks himself right back up. But other times he sits there for a minute as if to say "Damn! What the hell happened? One minute I was running along, the next I was on my diaper. I bet Mommy tripped me. She's always trying to keep me down."