My grandmother is a worrier. Always has been. I guess I know now why she's such a worrier. There's just so much that can go so wrong, especially when it comes to kids. I, however, am much much worse. I create these ridiculous "worst-case-scenarios." As a pessimist, I guess it just goes with the territory.
I see dark lights and a field next the parking lot where I was parked last night while browsing Toys R Us with Jimmy. What would happen if Jimmy bolted from his stroller and ran into this field, in the dark, no lights, no way for me to see him? Of course, I highly doubt this would happen because of his fascination with lights, so my guess is that he'd either try and climb into my car or go back into the store. I do like to take him places, though, to spend time with him, especially to get him away from the dreaded TV (getting reaaalll sick of Elmo & the Teletubbies these days). Heck one day he grabbed a container of miniature cupcakes and took off running in the grocery store. Luckily his dad was with us to grab him before he ran out of the store (yes, that is where he was heading). But I always panic about the "what ifs" of life, even not so typical things like auto accidents, going to any store or mall without being strapped into a stroller (he did pretty good last night at Toys R Us when I let him run with a mini-basketball until he ran into the back storeroom...hard to explain to him why he can't go in there).
So not only do I worry about the normal things, but I worry about the abnormal things. I have too many "Mildred Moments" as I call them. There's always something to worry about.
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Monday, September 20, 2004
I'll sleep when I'm dead...
Ah, the many, many things about parenthood that you've heard about but never quite understood or believed. Probably the biggest I didn't plan on was sleep. Precious sleep.
First, when my son was first born it was the waking every few hours to eat. After awhile those spells grew longer and longer apart, so I actually got blocks of sleep.
Next were the nights of relative quiet (sleeping through the night), but then life's anxieties and stresses kept me awake. Seems like there is a direct relationship between the nights I don't get much sleep and the nights when Jimmy wakes up crying or fussing. The nights I finally get my mind to quiet down at 3 am are the ones where Jimmy has nightmares or is cold or whatever. I typically can crawl out of bed and plug in the pacifer and he goes back to sleep. One night last week, that didn't work after two tries. Finally, I brought him into bed with me (and yes this was a night that was extremely anxiety ridden and despite a couple hours of TV watching and reading, I still couldn't get my mind to relax). He fussed for a few moments but then he finally drifted off to sleep, as did I. I remember waking up with that cute little pacifier filled face and remembering the days when we slept together all the time. Memories of sleep deprivation that I actually cherish.
Now of course, Jimmy can crawl out of the crib whenever he wants and does whatever he wants (I call it his Danger Boy routine). Climbing all over furniture, turning on the TV, playing his special messages on the answering machine, chasing the cat, and even playing in the bathroom. This morning he did this at 5:30 am (at least that's when he woke me up...I don't have any idea when he woke up).
So sleep comes in batches again. I guess a night of good sleep is a myth in my house. It will be until I'm dead... or perhaps when Jimmy is in college.
First, when my son was first born it was the waking every few hours to eat. After awhile those spells grew longer and longer apart, so I actually got blocks of sleep.
Next were the nights of relative quiet (sleeping through the night), but then life's anxieties and stresses kept me awake. Seems like there is a direct relationship between the nights I don't get much sleep and the nights when Jimmy wakes up crying or fussing. The nights I finally get my mind to quiet down at 3 am are the ones where Jimmy has nightmares or is cold or whatever. I typically can crawl out of bed and plug in the pacifer and he goes back to sleep. One night last week, that didn't work after two tries. Finally, I brought him into bed with me (and yes this was a night that was extremely anxiety ridden and despite a couple hours of TV watching and reading, I still couldn't get my mind to relax). He fussed for a few moments but then he finally drifted off to sleep, as did I. I remember waking up with that cute little pacifier filled face and remembering the days when we slept together all the time. Memories of sleep deprivation that I actually cherish.
Now of course, Jimmy can crawl out of the crib whenever he wants and does whatever he wants (I call it his Danger Boy routine). Climbing all over furniture, turning on the TV, playing his special messages on the answering machine, chasing the cat, and even playing in the bathroom. This morning he did this at 5:30 am (at least that's when he woke me up...I don't have any idea when he woke up).
So sleep comes in batches again. I guess a night of good sleep is a myth in my house. It will be until I'm dead... or perhaps when Jimmy is in college.
Friday, September 17, 2004
Let There Be "Light"
"Light"--one of the few words my son is now speaking with any sort of clarity. Of course along with this comes his fascination with lights, especially turning light switches on and off, even if it means tumbling off places where he shouldn't be. Sigh. How do they survive past this age! Whew!
He also says "baby" with some clarity, but I worry. For example, this morning as I dropped him off at day care, I couldn't coax one word out of him to say that he's hungry. Instead he cries, grabs cups off the countertop, fusses, etc. Does everything but utter a sound, a squeak so he would say he's hungry. I ask him, "Jimmy, do you want to eat?" While I'm doing this, I make the sign for eat (I've taught him a couple signs--"more" and "eat" are the only ones he's ever learned, although I tried to teach him "milk" and "banana"). Well, now a days he doesn't even give me the sign for eat, he just whines and cries. I guess I'll keep trying, but I worry.
We do play a little game to get him to say "milk." I say "MMMMMMMilk!" And he gets the "MMMMMMM" part and then says "ucky uck," so he's clearly trying to pronounce it. And more and more words are coming out and they're more and more clear. Heck sometimes he says things with such clarity, I say to my husband, "Did you hear that?!?"
He can laugh like the Count on Sesame Street and he's said "Uh-oh" like the Teletubbies at least once. And he mimics and can point to his nose and ears (I ask him where his eyes are and he points to his ears...eh, he's learning!).
Well, at least I can hear him say light...so let there be "light" and lots of it!
He also says "baby" with some clarity, but I worry. For example, this morning as I dropped him off at day care, I couldn't coax one word out of him to say that he's hungry. Instead he cries, grabs cups off the countertop, fusses, etc. Does everything but utter a sound, a squeak so he would say he's hungry. I ask him, "Jimmy, do you want to eat?" While I'm doing this, I make the sign for eat (I've taught him a couple signs--"more" and "eat" are the only ones he's ever learned, although I tried to teach him "milk" and "banana"). Well, now a days he doesn't even give me the sign for eat, he just whines and cries. I guess I'll keep trying, but I worry.
We do play a little game to get him to say "milk." I say "MMMMMMMilk!" And he gets the "MMMMMMM" part and then says "ucky uck," so he's clearly trying to pronounce it. And more and more words are coming out and they're more and more clear. Heck sometimes he says things with such clarity, I say to my husband, "Did you hear that?!?"
He can laugh like the Count on Sesame Street and he's said "Uh-oh" like the Teletubbies at least once. And he mimics and can point to his nose and ears (I ask him where his eyes are and he points to his ears...eh, he's learning!).
Well, at least I can hear him say light...so let there be "light" and lots of it!
Thursday, September 16, 2004
Planning the "Essentials"
Okay, I was going to call this inaugural post "Planning the Poop," but thought that'd be too much information at the beginning. But, I had a relevation this morning about the evolution of the human female, most notably, the process of elimination (a much more delicate definition).
Like many other females may have definitely noticed, men take an inordinate amount of time to use the bathroom. If a man is absent from the room for more than 20 minutes and can't be found, well you really know where he is. Men take soooooo long to do their business, it can be a problem, especially when you only have one bathroom! Anyways, most men I know take reading material with them since they're gonna be in their for the long haul (and it isn't pleasant afterword but that's another story).
All I know is most women go into the bathroom, sit down and before you can read a paragraph in this weeks People magazine, you're done. Simple as that. However, now that I'm the mother of a 22-month-old, active healthy baby boy, I know why that is.
This morning he woke me up at 4:30 (waaa--plop in goes the pacifier for a little more rest, hopefully). Not long after that I hear thumps and vocalizations, but I'm not concerned. He has a habit of waking up and kicking the wall as if to say, "WAKE UP MOMMY!" But lately, yes lately he's been playing the Danger Boy game. Instead of just contently fussing in his crib, he's been crawling/climbing out and getting into trouble. At this age, it is exploration time.
So, now with his wandering ways I need to figure out the where's and when's of normal life--breakfast, a shower, and yes, elimination. THAT'S why women can take care of the potty business so quickly. We've evolved so we can one minute toot and poop and the next disentangle the fly strip from our child's hands.
Yup, that's it. Pure evolution. I got lots to learn about motherhood!
Like many other females may have definitely noticed, men take an inordinate amount of time to use the bathroom. If a man is absent from the room for more than 20 minutes and can't be found, well you really know where he is. Men take soooooo long to do their business, it can be a problem, especially when you only have one bathroom! Anyways, most men I know take reading material with them since they're gonna be in their for the long haul (and it isn't pleasant afterword but that's another story).
All I know is most women go into the bathroom, sit down and before you can read a paragraph in this weeks People magazine, you're done. Simple as that. However, now that I'm the mother of a 22-month-old, active healthy baby boy, I know why that is.
This morning he woke me up at 4:30 (waaa--plop in goes the pacifier for a little more rest, hopefully). Not long after that I hear thumps and vocalizations, but I'm not concerned. He has a habit of waking up and kicking the wall as if to say, "WAKE UP MOMMY!" But lately, yes lately he's been playing the Danger Boy game. Instead of just contently fussing in his crib, he's been crawling/climbing out and getting into trouble. At this age, it is exploration time.
So, now with his wandering ways I need to figure out the where's and when's of normal life--breakfast, a shower, and yes, elimination. THAT'S why women can take care of the potty business so quickly. We've evolved so we can one minute toot and poop and the next disentangle the fly strip from our child's hands.
Yup, that's it. Pure evolution. I got lots to learn about motherhood!
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