Dillierama

My husband is a saint

As you might imagine, I'm not so fun to live with these days.  I'm cranky, I'm emotional, I'm bitchy, I'm roughly the size of a humpback whale, I only have the energy to shower every other day and even then I'm only managing to shave my legs twice a month, I've slacked off on the housework to the point where I'm fairly certain we are living in a biohazard, I rarely cook and when I do, I only make waffles... need I say more?  Despite all of this, John insists he is still in love with me.  He must be some kind of saint because even I'm sick of myself.

Springtime

The weather has been amazing this weekend.  We wasted it yesterday, spending only about two hours out doors while John fixed the sprinkler system and letting Alex ride his tricycle around the driveway, the rest of the day was spent playing American Idol on the Wii (I kicked John's butt all over the place on that game, and I can't even sing!  John was understandably frustrated.  Even Alex got into the action, which was beyond cute.).

Today I was determined not to miss out on some good old fashioned family fun.  We went to Sweet Tomato's for lunch where Alex still gets in for free, then I convinced John to go to the park to play tennis.  Due to the fact that I am eight months pregnant, I wasn't really bringing my A-game, so we just batted the ball back and forth to each other while Alex ran around the court as our ball boy.  All three of us had a blast though I am now realizing that perhaps I did a little more running and jumping than I should have because I'm stuck on the couch nursing a very, VERY sore pelvis.

It was great to be outside, getting fresh air and sun.  We even encountered something new, Sperm Trees.  We were walking out of Target after purchasing some cheap tennis rackets and balls and we passed a row of pretty flowering trees.  The closer we got to the trees, the stronger and more unpleasant the smell became and I turned to John and said "Do you smell that?  It smells like sperm." Thinking that it was just my pregnant nose playing tricks on me, I was surprised that John agreed with me, though he made a good point that it wasn't exactly the smell of sperm, but semen.  Yes, that's it.  Ahh, Springtime, the sun, the fresh air, the semen trees in bloom...

If the baby is born wearing gold chains, you'll know why

When I was pregnant with Alex I totally and completely bought into the idea of the "Mozart Effect" and was convinced I could boost my child's IQ through music.  I listened to classical music in the car. I'd sit at my desk at work, a large set of headphones clamped on my belly playing Mozart into my womb.  When Alex was born I only played Baby Einstein CD's.  The last year or so I've given up on trying to make my child brilliant through music and have instead alternated between the one children's music CD we have (Steve Sargenti's Little Seeds) and the Cars movie soundtrack.

Recently I've grown tired of our limited selection of cruising music so I've been flipping around on the radio and I'm finding that I'm passing by my usual favorites (oldies, pop music 80's to present, NPR...) and I am unusually attracted to rap and hip hop.  Alex really seems to dig it as well and I'm sure we're quite the sight, a pasty white 30-something pregnant suburban housewife cruising along in the mini van blasting the gangsta rap out the windows with a two year old in the back seat bobbing his head to the beat and flashing toddler gang signs to neighboring motorists.

It's all in the eyes

I was getting after Alex this morning for rummaging around one of my kitchen drawers.  He was looking for a "toy bag" which is just a zip lock baggie.  His new thing is filling gallon sized zip lock baggies with his toys, I'm not really sure why, but he's an odd one, that boy of mine.  Anyhow, obviously, I don't want him playing with plastic bags unsupervised, so when he discovered where I keep them and that he can get them himself, I wanted to discourage this immediately.  I loudly said to him in the most intimidating voice possible "NO!  Do NOT get into the drawer!  NO DRAWER!"  I tried to muster as much feeling as possible and look as serious as I could.  He turns around and looks at me, my "voice of God" is not new to him at all, but apparently he saw something in my eyes that told him I was serious.  He yells back at me while pointing his little finger at my face "NO fighting wif your eyes Mommy!"

He's told me this three times now today, again when he was getting into a kitchen drawer and when he was goofing off as I was trying to put him down for a nap and I haven't got a clue what he means really, only that I must have an angrier set of eyes on than normal.

Cravings

The cravings continue.  I'm about to head out to procure for myself a sandwich made entirely of sliced meat with meat juice to dip it in.  You might call this a simple french dip sandwich, but it's not.  Oh no, it is a hogie bun with nearly THREE INCHES of sliced beef piled on it accompanied by a wonderfully oily and beefy tasting au jus sauce.  If only I'd discovered this sandwich months ago I probably wouldn't be anemic!

Strangely, I'm also back to craving Clementines.  I wonder if one eats six Clementines a day it can offest the potential health hazards of consuming meat sandwiches?

Not very interesting happenings

I had my 32 week appointment on Friday, but had to reschedule due to the doctor having to rush off for an emergency c-section.  I rescheduled for yesterday afternoon and arrived on time to find that the doctor was off in surgery again.  I decided to wait it out, reasoning that I'd gone to the trouble of getting a babysitter, the waiting room had an abundance of new magazines, and perhaps most importantly, nary a toddler in sight.  It was a wonderfully peaceful 45 minute wait. 

All is looking well on the baby front.  His heartbeat is perfect and my belly is measuring 33 weeks (which could just be because I ate a big bowl of mac 'n' cheese before I went in).  He's head down and engaged, which is something I already knew owing to the fact that I've had the pleasure of feeling his precious little noggin grinding away at my cervix sending shooting pain throughout my pelvic region for about two weeks now.  A sensation I didn't get to enjoy nearly enough in my first pregnancy seeing as how Alex didn't drop until about 10 days before I had him.  Apparently Baby 2.0 is locked and loaded and ready for takeoff.  Sounds like both of us are anxious to get this show on the road. 

:::

I asked John to come feel the baby move last night while he was forcing me against my will to watch a basketball playoff game.  He's felt the baby move a couple of times before and when I asked him if he wanted to feel it this time, he shrugged and said "eh, I don't really need to.  I've felt him before, I know he's in there.  I'm good"  So yea, that didn't really work for me.  I want him to at least ACT interested, so I made him sit next to me on the sofa with his hand on my belly.  John hasn't felt the baby for several months now, and I think he was actually surprised that the baby feels more like a solid thing in there rather than some anomalous condition making my belly jiggle.  I think John was actually interested this time, he was poking around and trying to figure out what body parts he was touching.  I think he may have actually grabbed the baby's knee or foot.  I think the baby liked all the attention because he did quite a bit of wiggling and kicking and eventually ended up with the hiccups.  All the poking and pushing John was doing to the baby was making me need to pee, but it was worth it.

:::

The first born has sadly developed a cough with an extra order of boogers which much to his dismay manifested itself in time to keep him home from swimming with his friends today.  I'm trying to compensate by allowing him to splash wildly in the bathtub until he turns pruney.

The excess boogers have also provided Alex an opportunity to practice something his Papa Joe has been trying to teach him, to wipe his nose on his shirt.  He is now a pro at wiping his own boogers, the downside is he's making all his shirts all crusty.  Thanks a lot Joe!

Translations

Alex's vocabulary has exploded all over the place.  He talks non stop and, to me anyway, is mostly understandable.  He still has a lot of trouble with "R", "L" and combination ("ch", "sh" and "tr") sounds and has a tendency to turn one syllable words into two or three syllable words (making things more difficult than they have to be is a trait he inherited directly from his father) making some of his words and sentences impossible to translate without an interpretor.

• "Ayex Deeyah"  Alex Dillier
• "Co war"  Car
• "Peeyo"  Pillow
• "Sookees"  Suitcase (he was saying "I wan my sookees" last night and both John and I thought he was saying "I want my dookies"  we were very confused until he finally ran over and brought his suitcase to us)
• "Doo wink"  Drink
• "po wark"  Park
• "Yeyow"  Yellow

Despite his heavy toddler accent, he's getting more and more confident talking to other people.  He's always been a super friendly little guy, but always shy about trying to talk to people.  I don't think anyone believed me when I said he started talking a year ago because he just wouldn't say a word when anyone other than me or his dad were around.  Not so these days.  In fact, one of his favorite things lately is to order his own food at restaurants. 

• "I wan fenfies an shicken!"  I want french fries and chicken
• "I wan fenfies an habooger.  Wif CHEESE!"  I want french fries and a hamburger with cheese
• "I wan mac n cheese" 
• "I wan paghetti wif cheese!"  I want spaghetti with parmesan cheese

I love that he's talking so much.  Just like a little person.  Whole sentences, conversations... I love knowing what's going on in that head of his.  He likes to play pretending games all the time now.  He'll come up to you with a toy in his hand and give you a toy and wiggle his toy at you and say "Wa you say?"  You're then supposed to say something, talking as the toy you have now in your hand.  He'll then talk as though he's the toy he's holding.  He'll tell you what color he is "Im a yeyow co war" (I am a yellow car), "I can fi!" (I can fly) etc..  He likes to pretend cook (probably because he's watched Ratatouille so many times) and will tell you he's "Makin soop!" or "Cookin cookies!  Taste it!"  He likes to pretend he's a super hero "Im Tigah Man!  RAWR!" (Tiger Man is a game he plays with his friends).

Unfortunately, his being able to speak and express his opinions means that he can do so when you don't necessarily want to hear it. 

• "You can't touch me!" or "No touch my body!"  When I have to pick him up during a tantrum
• "I mad at Daddy" or "I mad at Mommy"
• "No sing Mommy.  Bad sing"
• "Do it again!"  after the 973rd time you've done something he thinks is funny

Sleepover take two

John and I both had plans last night, so we took the opportunity to have Alex do another practice sleepover at Grandma Bab's.  Not that he needs more practice, he's already a pro at sleeping away from home.  But it seemed like a good idea anyway.

Remembering that I wasn't even remotely missed last time, I made an effort to have a great child-free evening.  I got together with about seven other women from my mom's group and we had a game night (where I discovered my mad Pictionary skillz) and out for brinner at a coffee shop.  I was out on the town until the wee hours of... ok, so I got home at quarter to eleven, but for me, anything past nine is living on the wild side.  I came home even later than John who'd gone to a hockey game with some friends. We then engaged in such adult activities as shopping online for a new mobile phone, leaving the baby gate OPEN to the basement stairs and talking above a whisper until well past midnight.  Of course there was the morning nookie, which has been extinct in our house since Alex moved in.  Delightful.  Simply delightful.

While we both enjoyed our evening of adult-only activities, when my mom called at 7:30 saying that Alex was ready to come home, that in fact, he actually was ASKING to come home, I yelled to John "ALEX IS ON HIS WAY!!!  AND HE MISSES US!"  and we both paced the living room looking out the windows waiting for my mom's car to pull up.  When we finally saw the car, we opened the front door with big expectant smiles on our faces.  Alex came around the car, took one look at us, yelled "NO!!!" and ran down the street. We  had to bribe him inside with gummy vitamins. The little turd. 

Spoilers

Just in case you have better things to do this Spring than read my blog, here is a list of spoilers good through July:

May:

• I'm huge
• I'm sick of being pregnant
• Good God, I'm a whale
• I'm never getting pregnant again.  EVER.
• Did I mention, I'm a freaking zeppelin over here?

June:

• Oooh, goody!  Baby will be born this month!  Hooray!
• Baby... where are you?
• Still pregnant.  COME ON ALREADY!
• If this baby isn't born within the next 24 hours, I'm going to have to perform a self C-section
• BABY! 
• Cute pictures of squishy raisin baby
• More pictures of squishy raisin baby
• More pictures of squishy raisin baby and by the way, my nipples hurt
• HUGE BOOBS!
• HUGE BOOBS AND SORE NIPPLES!
• OH MY GOD, THE NIPPLES!  THE NIPPLES HURT!
• Post video of Alex poking new baby in the eye

July:

• I'm fat and my nipples still hurt!
• I haven't slept in a month
• Alex sticks raisin up baby's nose, post story about ER visit
• I'm fat, I'm on a diet, my nipples STILL hurt, Alex bit one of the baby's toes off and I still haven't gotten more than 2 hours of sleep at a time.  Why did I do this again?
• John begins the countdown to when we can have sex again.  I tell him never.  Never, ever again.  EVER.  I feel bad though, so I buy him a subscription for Juggs Magazine.
• Alex just told the baby he loves him and gave him a kiss.  This might just work out ok after all.

So, as you can see, aside from some potentially adorable newborn baby pictures, I'll mostly be complaining for the next couple of months.  I expect things to pick up around August when I'm getting a bit more sleep and in full swing with my diet and hopefully experiencing some serious ass-shrinkage. 

Learning curve

John and I have been together for six and a half years.  From the minute we met, we clicked.  Conversation was easy, just being together was fun.  We never really dated.  The first few months of our relationship was spent just hanging out together and talking.  I have never felt more comfortable with another human being in my life.  As a couple, we make sense together.  The kind of people we are, our goals in life, our philosophies, beliefs, morals...we're so similar in who we are, who we want to be, I always imagined our relationship to be a perfect match.

Then we had a baby.

At first, I scoffed at the people who told me that having children changes your relationship.  If anything, our relationship was BETTER than it was before.  We were closer than ever, John and I.  And so it went for about a year and a half, I was living in some kind of fantasy land where everything was perfect.

Then our baby grew into a toddler.

When the actual PARENTING part of having a child became necessary, the part where you have to discipline and can't just sit around cooing about how cute he is and your worst argument is over who has to change the poopy diaper, I realized for the first time that our parenting styles couldn't be more polar opposite.  This, as you can imagine, has put a bit of a kink in my view of our perfect life together.  Nothing makes us butt heads harder than a parenting dispute.  We both love Alex so much, we both understand that this is our child we're talking about here and damnit we have to get it right, that there's very little give on either side when we fight about parenting.  We're both so sure that we have the right answer, that we have Alex's best interests in mind, that it can get pretty heated. 

I think John's too aggressive with Alex.  His MO is to scare the living shit out of him so he won't repeat the bad behavior.  John thinks I coddle him too much.  I'm too wimpy with the discipline and I let Alex get away with everything.  In an attempt to be fair, we both probably have a point.  John needs to understand that Alex is only two and a half.  He's just a little kid, and as such, he acts like a little kid.  He breaks things, he climbs on things, he throws tantrums, he makes messes, he bites, hits, screams, cries, he will do things over and over and over despite having been disciplined for it just to see at what point will he be able to get away with it.  I think John needs to relax about some things and cut Alex some slack because Jesus, he's only two!  The other day he blew his top over Alex making a mess with goldfish crackers on the carpet, an offense I think could have done better with a stern "No!" rather than a screaming fit. I'll concede that I do need to be more strict about certain behaviors, and perhaps even increase the punishment for the more extreme situations (biting, hitting, etc.).  Maybe I do let too many things slide because I don't want to deal with correcting it.  And maybe I'm so scared of becoming like my parents, who I spent the better part of my life being scared shitless of, that I can't bring myself to dole out the discipline because I'm afraid he'll grow up hating me.

The worst part is, unless we can find a happy medium, unless we can get on track TOGETHER, we will continue to undermine each other with Alex.  It does no good at all when John gets angry with Alex in a way that I feel is out of line and then I rush in to scoop him up and comfort him and yell at John for being too scary.  All Alex learns is that Daddy is a big scary ogre and Mommy will always save me, and if I play it right, I'll always be able to get away with everything.

We're still new at this parenting gig and I know we'll work it out.  This is just one part of our relationship that isn't going to come easy.  But it will get better.  John and I love each other, and we love Alex and nothing is more important to either of us than having a happy (and well behaved) family.