My "firstborn" 1993-2006

Rest in peace, good and oldest friend. I love you so much and miss you terribly. You were the best cat in the whole world. I'm just sorry I wasn't a better mommy to you this past year - but you were very loved. Always. There is a hole in my heart now that you're gone. You will never be forgotten.

Stay Awake ...

Last night Mary Poppins was on TV. We don't normally let Imri watch much TV but Mary Poppins? Please - it's a wondrous thing and he seemed to enjoy the musical cartoon parts of it. Those are the best parts, anyway. But he does seem to have taken Mary Poppins lullabye to the children to heart. You know, the one she sings when they insist they aren't going to go to sleep?

Stay awake, don't rest your head
Don't lie down upon your bed
While the moon drifts in the skies
Stay awake, don't close your eyes

Though the world is fast asleep
Though your pillow's soft and deep
You're not sleepy as you seem
Stay awake, don't nod and dream
Stay awake, don't nod and dream

We're still in the trenches regarding Imri's sleeping habits. We are not taking him out of the crib any longer, no more night time feedings, no more co-sleeping, he gets water when he cries ... it's been a few weeks now and he is still waking anywhere between 2-7 times a night. He got to a point where he'd go down around 8 and sleep till 11:30 -12ish - that has gone out the window too now, with an early waking around 9:30. It used to be 10:30, now it's 9:30. On the bright side, he *is* taking two full naps at daycare now - usually an hour each. That is new - he has never napped that way in the past but it may have something to do with the new sleeping pattern at home combined with some changes in where he sleeps at daycare.

I'm truly not sure what to do anymore. He's given us one or two nights where he has only woken once or twice and I thought I had reached Nirvana, but those are rare - and I do the majority of sleep patrol duty. It's effing hard as hell when you're working full time. It's even harder when the man you love decides to stay home the one night he did extra sleep patrol just because he can. And you come home after 10 hours on your feet and ask "what's for dinner" and nothing has been taken out, no housework has happened and your beloved spouse answers "nothing" to the question of "what did you do all day?".

I'm having trouble staying awake while driving home and that is bad, my friends.

This is my approximate schedule:

"rise" to Imri's hungry cry around 4:30-4:45. Nurse and try and put him back down for more sleep. It works sometimes, sometimes it doesn't.

shower if I can. I have taken to showering with a small boy staring at me, surrounded by books and toys in the bathroom.Dress.Change small boy and dress him.

Fix his lunch/snack if I didn't do it the night before. Make my breakfast, coffee, etc. Run everything out to the vehicle and start it up while he is in his highchair, working on a bottle/raisin bread.

Leave between 6-6:10.

Arrive at daycare around 6:30. Get him settled, etc.

Arrive at work around 7:30. Work - usually the longest and busiest room, on my feet, pushing heavy stretchers, etc etc etc whine whine moan complain till 4:30 - sometimes till 5 if we are really short staffed. Or if I have to pick up Imri, then I leave around 4.

Get in the car and battle I-270. Struggle to stay awake and drive safely amongst the many assholes that pollute that road. Get home anywhere between 45 minutes to 2 hours later (yeah, Thanksgiving was a bitch), so around 5:30 - 6.

Walk in the door to a boy's beautiful smile. John hasn't taken anything out for dinner, fed the boy nor changed a diaper. I do all of those things over the next hour or so, which brings us to 7ish. Then John and I eat. Imri usually jonzes for food from our plates. Yeah, I'd love to do a sit-down family dinner every night but I'm just thankful for getting food on my plate and sitting down in front of the TV at this point. Wolf down food so I get time to play with Imri.

8ish - Imri wants boob - but there's not much there anymore so it's upstairs for stories, bottle, boob and bed. Once he's down, I quickly get into pjs and make his lunch. To bed betweeen 8:30 and 9:30, with great hopes that usually evaporate with the first cries ... and up throughout the night - 9:30, 1:30, 2:30, 3:30, 4:30 ...and sometimes in between.

So I'm pretty much going from 5am to 9pm. And then from 9:30pm to 4:30am.

I'm exhausted. And I really don't know what to do to change things.

But, nonetheless, I wish you all a belated Happy Hanukkah, a Merry Xmas and a very happy, joyous, and - restful - New Year.

I really do need to find the time

and update you nice folks on the goings-on in our lives. It's been hard to find time with going back to work fulltime and a melange of other things - holiday stuff, some tough times between John and I, going to Canada to visit, you know - the usual crap.

The biggest news to pass on is of course, Imri-related. He is officially a toddler!! He took his first steps the day after his first birthday and about 2-3 weeks later there was no looking back. It's been wonderful, truly. His language is also flourishing now, he uses identifiable words; boo for book, ca for car, tuh for truck, baba for bottle and something only mom understands that means "raisin bread". He understands a heck of a lot more than he says and I am constantly amazed by the things he does understand. Holy crap. I've really started censoring my liberal use of the F bomb and have been on John's case to curb his Marine language but so far, not much change there!
Imri also has a whole slew of animal sounds. He babbles all the time. He has taken to shaking his head 'no' when asked if he wants something in particular to eat - and he eats well. Last pedi visit he weighed in at 26 lbs, 8 oz at 13+ months old.





He can also take a room apart faster than a platoon of Marines. Oh, and you should see him hitting golf balls with the plastic golf clubs - once he hits the ball, he drops the club and starts to clap and laugh, all pleased with himself. As he should be!

In other words - lots of work, but blissful work. He adores his books still and although he often requests us to read to him, he has also started flipping through books on his own and making "words" as if reading. It's pretty funny and amazing at the same time. His fascination with all things mechanized continues to grow; cars, trucks, buses, vacuums - he adores them all.

Right now he is working on his premolars - we thought he had an ear infection behind one of his tubes but a visit to the ENT showed otherwise - glad the pedi was wrong on that account. So the low grade fever is probably teething related - and he has a cold and congestion. Par for the course, I guess.

Do I sound as happy as I am? I hope so - it's been a tough balancing act but we're making it work. I get Wednesdays off, so we always have a day off together and that day is precious to me. I try and get us outside (he loves the outdoors) but with the cold weather, it's not always possible. And there ain't a lot to do with small kids around here (that I'm aware of, anyway) so we go shopping or to the mall, etc. I wish we were closer to DC - museums, music, that kind of stuff ... but oh well.

We are in the midst of "sleep training" here. Imri's sleep had gotten so bad, he was waking every 1.5 hours or so and I was crazy with fatigue. I called a stop to it one night when I had enough and just decided "no more picking him out of the crib". We've been working on that for a week now and things are improving slowly - it's been rough. Long time readers know that I will not do CIO, so we have stayed in the room with him when he's been upset/crying, we go in and soothe him a bit but no picking up, no more coming to bed with mommy. We offer a bottle with water, but no more boob other than when I nurse him to sleep. We actually are starting to get "some" sleep around here. And by "some", I mean that a couple of nights have had uninterrupted stretches of, oh .... 2-4 hours. Slowly, my friends. It will get better. But we're doing it our way - the way we deem best for Imri. He is not a CIO kid and we are not CIO parents.

In other news, my stepson dropped out of college as he was failing his classes. Gotta say that I saw this coming from a mile away - 12+ hours a day online and no homework getting done, no studying and tons of attitude. And yes, we made him pay back every cent of tuition as per our agreement - he wasn't happy about that. He also decided to move in with his mother on his 18th birthday, which is probably the wrong choice for him but it's his choice and that's all there is to it. Hey, there are no rules there whatsoever, no chores and no demands for him to do something - anything - and get off the couch. He also managed to nearly sever his right ring finger while making french fries at his fast food job while here and luckily, a good surgeon saved it and it has reattached well. Oy. John and I tried to make the point about finding more fulfilling and less dangerous (and better-paying) work but it fell on deaf ears. Ah well. We were all 18 once. We have truly done our best for him - hopefully he will clue in one day when he becomes human again. He claims that he will go back to school when at his mother's - but I told him to stop kidding himself and us - if he didn't do it while here, with full support and tuition paid, why would he do it there, when he will have to foot the entire bill, no support, etc? Yeah.

Anyway, it's out of our hands now and if we can just get Imri to sleep more, the stress level here will be reduced tremendously.

So there you have it. Hanukkah is around the corner and I am excited - I bought a bunch of holiday-themed books off Ebay and way too many presents for my boy. Ah well! Hopefully he will like latkes and sufganiyot as much as his mother does!

Oh yeah, speaking of that - I rejoined weight watchers. It was time. 8.6 down so far and 25 more to go. Ouch.

I'll try and stay in touch, I promise.

Firsts

I know that somewhere in the world, there are one year old babies that sleep through the night. I know there are. None of them live in my house. I'm just saying.

It's been hard, especially with the knowledge that I am returning to full-time work come November. I had really hoped that Imri would settle out but no dice. Top that off with tremendous teething - my poor boy had 4 teeth come in at once and still more spawning - and that other enormous milestone ... first steps!!!! I'm sure those of you who are seasoned moms are nodding at the realization of how little sleep I am actually getting these days.

I wish I had a pic or two of the momentous event to show you, but it was unexpected and is sporadic. Imri is still a fervent advocate of the full-tilt crawl, preferably in the opposite direction of where I am headed. We went to the Targez yesterday and he insisted on crawling down the aisles. Yeah. I was oblivious ignored the dirty looks of soon-to-be mamas and the transparency of their "I would never let my child do that" thoughts and the dirty looks of wanna-be-drive-by mamas. Maybe having John with me helped keep that to a minimum. Which makes me wonder why when a baby is crawling next to his daddy in a busy store said daddy and baby get indulgent smiles but when the same scenario occurs with the mommy, all she gets are dirty looks?

That other momentous event, Imri's first birthday came and went with much fanfare and happiness. As you can see, John survived my wrath after returning home from golfing at 14:45 when Imri's party was supposed to start at 15:00. Yeah. My best friend S, the sister of my heart, came charging to the rescue with much help and calming vibes because I was jumping out of my skin by the time she arrived. It's just so darned difficult to run errands with a baby, especially when said baby hardly slept the night before.

But it was a great time and Imri sort of clued in that things were for him when we came to the gift-opening. At least I think he did - he seemed to understand that these were toys and books for him and he got excited - it was pretty cool, actually.

He loved the cake - I honestly can't say enough about C0stc0 cakes - but by then it was pretty loud - lots of people with lots of kids, all hepped up on sugar - the urge for me to yell "everyone ... SHUT UP!!!" was great but I kept it together. Mostly. S may have issue with my togetherness in general.





The other sweet thing about the party is that Imri's gramma came. John's mom has very poor health and it means a great deal to us that she made the trip - and Imri settled comfortably in her lap as she read to him.



In fact, so much so that he fell asleep in her arms, much to her delight - and mine, because I actually got to eat a meal without a small person screeching for me to share. Imri's become quite the chow-hound, boys and girls.

He is fascinated with cars, trucks, trains, cats and books, in no particular order. Therefore it was only fitting that we got him a car - and he is utterly delighted by it. Not only is it red, it has a "convertible" top and a push bar, so we can take him in it through the neighbourhood. It rocks and he loves it!





I also took him for his first "professional" pics in honour of his first birthday and they did a decent job. I didn't realize that they weren't digital until afterwards or I would have probably gone elsewhere. Not to mention the snarky attitude of the "photographer" and I use that term lightly. But I will share because a couple of them are quite good, a testament to Imri's extreme cuteness and not the "photog", and because the picture folk (a national chain) haven't realized that you can indeed right click and save if you use Firefox.





They actually asked my permission to put the Halloween one in the book they use to ensnare ...er... entice hapless other parents. I agreed, of course. I'm a sucker for showing off my boy.

We are also going up to Toronto for my cousin's batmitzvah. I convinced John to fly this time as we got excellent fares via S0uthworst and we will once again be renting a vehicle. This time, however, we are bringing our own car seat and not renting from Budget, the car shmucks. Even though I did receive yet another letter, this time from the office of the president of Budget, apologizing once again and promising to change their website. And I just surfed on over and ... they did!!!! Holy crap. I quote ...

"Due to liability issues, Budget personnel are not permitted to install child safety seats into vehicles for customers. However, upon request, Budget will provide an instruction sheet or booklet on the proper installation of the child safety seat. Other questions regarding installation should be addressed directly with the rental location."

Wow.
The power of an angry mother in action, come to fruition. I am utterly blown away. Who knew?

Anyway, we still won't be renting from them.

I had so much to say here, most of it erudite and profound, but it has all escaped my small and fatigued brain. Not to mention how my beloved John finds it very necessary to read me each and every article that he finds interesting online and on paper while I am trying to write/read/do anything that gives me five minutes to myself on the computer. I love the man, he just doesn't understand that I honestly don't give a rat's ass about some picture of Arnold Palmer and Jack Nicklaus. I just don't. May the golf gods strike me down. Nor am I interested in hearing about anything that GWB has to say anymore. It's just too darned depressing for words.

Instead, I will leave you with a nice autumn pic of my sweet boy. Consider yourselves lucky.

My nearly birthday boy

My sweet Imri,

I know, I've been negligent in writing my "letters" to you. So often I promise myself that I will sit down and write and life is so full and busy with you that time slips away. Besides, I'd rather be with you than write about you.

You are now 11.5 months old. I sent out invitations to your birthday party this past week and I can't believe it - a year. How quickly it has flown by, my beloved boy - what sweetness and joy you've brought into my life. It's somehow fitting that right now we are in the "Days of Awe", the ten days between the Jewish New Year and Yom Kippur - because while different in concept, I am in awe of you and the person you are becoming.



Last year, my induction was begun on Yom Kippur. I hoped you would not be born on that day - Yom Kippur is a solemn day of prayer and fasting - I wanted your birth to be a day of joy. You obliged me by holding out for 30+ hours of labour, finally arriving on October 14th at 13:47. According to the Jewish Calendar, your birthday should be this Tuesday and as one of our few remaining full days together, I intend on celebrating it quietly, just you and me.


Yes, I'm going back to work full time starting in November, gorgeous boy. It hurts so much to know that I will be missing so much of your development. I wish there was some way I could do otherwise but we really can't. I know I am luckier than many in having a great part of this first year with you but that makes it even harder in many ways. You are such a special child and I want you to get the nurturing that will enable you to blossom - I am not at all convinced that daycare is the place for that.

You are doing so much these days - you stood by yourself the other day! Stood and balanced for several long seconds - wonderful to behold! It won't be long before you're walking and wreaking havoc on everything around you. You absorb everything we tell you - you try so very hard to say words but "graaa" seems to be one of your multi-descriptor words these days. You do say "caaaa" for car and "gruuuh" for truck. You try and say "banana" and "phone" and pretty much everything we teach you and you remember most of those words when asked later. You point to a ball, a cup, a bottle, a chair when asked to. When I ask you to say "mommy" you meow and look very proud of yourself. The smile on your face when you see your daddy is brilliant.





You love food! Definitely something you inherited from mommy, sweet boy. You will try pretty much everything I put in front of you and you jonz for most things daddy and I eat. We call you the Shnorer, yiddish for moocher. Pizza (crusts), raisin bread, chicken, any and every fruit, most veggies. You think water is the beverage of champions and you aren't really happy that mommy is trying to get you to take formula in a sippy cup.


Books seem to be your absolutely favourite toy and that delights both your father and I to no end. Cars and anything with wheels come a close second. You love music and rock at the slightest refrain - you seem to really love when mommy sings, despite the lack of pitch. Watching music videos with mommy on youtube seems to be a favourite pastime. You are so much more mobile now, able to get on and off toys like your firetruck and rocking horse. Your walker is close to being obsolete - I know it's a matter of time before you take off at a run.




Everything is exciting to you. You love sitting or standing on the grass and watching the leaves fall. You've become fascinated with the outdoors and love going on your swing and even sliding down the slide. It's a big boy slide so I hold you but you still love it. I know you're just waiting to run across the lawn one day soon - I can imagine you diving into a pile of leaves and laughing out loud in glee.


You still don't like sleeping much, sweetheart and most of that is because mommy still nurses you at night, I think. Yet I hesitate to wean you completely because that sweet closeness we share is so very precious to me. That may be selfish of me, but I know it's also good for you. So we end up sharing mommy and daddy's bed at night and mommy doesn't get a lot of sleep (daddy stays on the couch)... but I know you are happy and secure in my arms and that matters a great deal in my book. You will wean one day - before I know it these sweet days will be over and you will be a big boy. You are already losing some of that "baby" look and it saddens and gladdens me at the same time.






You now have three teeth with three more perched and ready for entry. I've given you Motrin and Tylenol a few nights, mostly because I figured you had to be sore, not because you complained or cried. You are such a happy child. Even people who see you in a store comment on how happy you are - you attract people with your winsome smiles and sweet nature. It's really quite astonishing.





I am taking you for professional pictures on Tuesday and I really hope they go well. It's unfortunate that Daddy won't be able to come because I'd love a family picture but that will have to wait for another time. But I hope we get a good shot of you smiling that sweet smile of yours ... because I can never have enough pictures of the person you are, the person you are becoming.

I love you so much, Imri, my big boy. Don't grow up too fast, ok? I want to hold on to my baby for just a little while longer. And happy birthday, motek sheli. Ima ohevet otcha im kol halev.

Inviting in the hurt

I had mentioned a number of times to my mother how much it would mean to me that my parents come for Imri's first birthday. And it does - after so long, after so much heartache ... I want to be surrounded by friends and family. Nothing big, nothing outrageous. I'm not renting ponies, or hiring clowns. I figured on cake, ice cream and maybe some chips and dip. Soda, wine, you know. The basics. I figured on a few close friends, John's mother (and siblings, if they want to come which likely they won't), us and my parents.

I mentioned it a few weeks ago and then again a couple of times. I heard about the length of the drive and suggested that modern contraption, an airplane. After all, they were going to fly me (with Imri) to Toronto for Rosh Hashana, so they money is there. I mentioned flying S0uthwest out of Buffalo and heard "the border is awful and we need a car". I offered one of our cars and got hemmed and hawed at. I heard about a trip to Montreal for a barmitzvah, theatre tickets for Stratford and mostly "maybe" so I figured on "no".
I spoke to my husband today about it and suggested that maybe we go to Canada instead, so that I could be amongst family for what I perceive as a relatively big event and not put out my parents who are, after all, in their seventies. Relative being the term - again, I'm not going bananas here, just wanted a feeling of family around me.

So I broached the topic with my mother when they called this evening to wish us a Shana Tova. And I was shot down flat. That I shouldn't bother over something that small - that I should do as they did once and just keep it family only. I said that I was thinking of coming on the weekend of my birthday and we could celebrate the birthdays together and was told to "save it for something special" and how they just found out there was a batmitzvah in the family in early November and to think about that.

Yeah. So call me selfish if you wish, call me ridiculously self-serving to want my son's grandparents at his side for his first birthday. Call me stupid for opening myself up to my mother's rejection again. Call me stupid for wanting to pretend that our family is closer than we actually are. Call me stupid for noticing how my mom and dad seem to visit my brother's son fairly often but how they haven't mentioned anything about not seeing any pictures of Imri lately. Lately as in 3-4 weeks when I would send them regularly. Yeah, I'm so damned selfish, it hurts.

I will make a nice birthday for Imri. A small one. I will invite a couple of people and George's family. Maybe I'll send my parents an invitation. Maybe I won't. It doesn't seem to matter to them at all anyway. I won't make that mistake again.

Shana Tova U'Metuka 5767

A sweet and happy New Year to everyone. May this New Year bring us all happiness, joy and peace. A lasting and workable peace for this entire world.

May your names be inscribed in the Book of Life.

Amen.

Wish I were more eloquent but ... hey, it's the sentiment that counts.

Curiouser and curiouser ...

Why do they call it a green card?? It's not. Yes, that's my way of telling you nice folks that .. it's here!! I am a legal permanent resident of the USA. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, boys and girls. I tell you, strange things are afoot at the Circle K.




One of the strangest things I've ever encountered in my life - and I've been around several blocks multiple times - is looking into my son's face and seeing my own features reflected back at me. Particularly the eyes ...

When we found out we were having a son, we had the inevitable question of "oh, didn't you want a girl??" and the other strange and perplexing questions that people ask you when you're pregnant. One of my stock answers, other than "I just want a healthy baby" became "I want a little boy with his daddy's eyes.". Because in truth, John has gorgeous eyes. Deep-set and ocean-blue, they are witness to the flame that burns inside him and give echo to his inner - as well as more superficial - beauty.

When Imri was born, it appeared that indeed, I had been given a boy with his daddy's eyes and I delighted in that. Imri seemed to be John in miniature with nary a shade of his mother in him. But now that he is growing older and becoming his own self, I see that his eyes are becoming reflections of mine, the whole upper structure of his face is taking on a masculine hue of his mother.

It is startling and humbling and wonderful and eerie and if it was possible to love him even more for it, I do. Rightly or wrongly, I do. I hold him high above me and gaze into that curiously familiar face - and we both smile big. And more than likely, we laugh.

Can you taste the bitter?

It's Friday night and I'm sitting here at the computer. I could - rather, should, be in bed because I get so little sleep anymore that I really do try and take advantage of Imri's every sleeping moment. But I also want to have a life, you know? I mean, John sleeps downstairs on the couch most nights, I work and take care of Imri and that's about all - what life do I have outside of kirche, kuche and kinder? Well, not much kirche, either. At all, actually.

And not much kuche either, sadly. I love to cook and these days I'm lucky if I get a chance to heat up something frozen or premade. *sigh*.

It doesn't make me sad, heck no ... the kinder part makes up for all of it and then some - but I am tired - extraordinarily so, and wouldn't mind some time off. Not necessarily time off from Imri, but just some vacation time. Which brings me to this weekend.

You see, John has his annual golf tournament and this year it's in Atlantic City. He and Imri and I were all set to go, only Jr has class on Saturday. We live in the sticks, ergo no bus service on the weekend. We thought we had it worked out, with Jr's buddy coming over and serving partially as chauffeur, when Jr started acting like an ass. Yeah, you could say that a nearly eighteen year old male is that by definition, but it's starting to really get old.
It's difficult to explain, suffice it to say that we have to ask for things to be done multiple times and if they aren't done within 5 minutes of asking, they are forgotten. Or if he does one thing while in the middle of another, something gets left half-finished, like taking your plate to the dishwasher after a phone call. Simple stuff, not complex crap. Things get forgotten - important things, like making sure the door to the house is closed when you leave- not locked, mind you ... closed. As in shut. Yeah.

Taking the garbage out. Not leaving underwear on the bathroom floor. Mopping up after yourself if the bathroom floor is covered with water after your shower. Not taking 45 minute showers. Calling to schedule appointments - like driving classes, for example. And so on. I know if may sound like normal teenage boy crap to some, but I'm telling you ... it is CONSTANT. Multiple times a day. And it has been constant for years now, I kid thee not. Years. I am so tired of it and of the attitude that goes with it. Strangely enough, instant messenger and video games somehow never get forgotten. Isn't that funny?

So back to the weekend - we were all set to leave tomorrow only Jr's ride fell through. John won't let him bike to work because he would have to go over busy highway on a narrow bridge (whatever, I am tired of arguing that one with an over-protective father) and Jr doesn't fight it because it's less work for him (have I mentioned the lazy part?)Also, Jr has been acting like an ass and we feel we can't trust him alone in the house. This was to be his first time alone in the house - for one day and one night and we feel it's just not smart. For all the reasons mentioned above and more.

I won't let John miss his tournament so guess who has to stay home and wipe the ass play chauffeur to a nearly 18 year old? Yeah, I'm pissed. This was supposed to be my vacation, the only vacation I've had this summer. One day and one night and even that would have been me and Imri doing stuff because John would have been golfing all day Saturday and Sunday. Still, I was looking forward to it and now ...grrrrr.

I told John that next weekend I want to go out to the ocean. I want to be near the water and want to relax and take it easy, sand on my feet, etc. Of course, the weather will probably suck next weekend, but cest la vie, right? John has agreed, so we may go next weekend to Rehoboth, or Ocean City. And Jr will just have to fend for himself, so sorry. If we go. Which I bet we won't. But if we do, I'm guessing he'll be taking a taxi cab or three. I'm not sure why he can't do that this weekend other than the aforementioned over-protective father.

Yeah, you can hear the bitter. Step-parenting isn't easy, especially not with an unappreciative and ungrateful kid. You get shit on a lot and hearing "oh, he'll appreciate you when he's older" doesn't alleviate the sting of working your ass off for someone and knowing the "I love yous" go to someone completely undeserving and who gets those sentiments courtesy of a biological accident and not much else.

Anyway. I feel slightly better for getting all that out and somewhat guilty for feeling that way. I know I have far too much resentment built up inside over Jr and it's not something recent but I really need to get over it. Having Imri has helped greatly but perhaps I'm just selfish enough that I never will get over it. Dunno.

And on other good news, John has told me we really could use a full time income from me and wants me to go back to work full time once Imri turns a year old. I don't know - it really is breaking my heart. I want to be a SAHM and can't - I'm working three 10 hour shifts now but get no bennies and poor vacation/sick time. My boss approached me about returning to full time after I spoke to the office manager about it (in confidence, so much for that) and I mentioned working M-F 7:30 to 3:30 which would allow me to pick Imri up around 4ish and still spend partial afternoons with him ... or I could do 4 ten hour shifts and have one day off ... which is killer but I could make it work.

But I'd miss our time together. Our special days - the days we tool around and just do stuff, go shopping, walk around. Especially now that he's getting older and more interested in the stuff that there is to do. I love being with Imri. I love seeing him grow, seeing his eyes widen with surprise and laughter as I push our shopping cart full-speed down a deserted Costc0 aisle, watching his discoveries and learning, snuggling with him at naptime, breathing in his scent as he lies in my arms, asleep (not for long and not often enough, but the sentiment remains). He is becoming himself and I am loathe to miss a moment of it and I already miss so very much.

But we need the money. I am so very torn.

I did, however, give my husband the caveat that until Imri started sleeping better, I wouldn't be doing anything full-time because I can't work 40 hour weeks in my job and function on 4-5 hours of broken sleep. No way, no how.

So there you have it, my stream of consciousness babble. And now, off to bed with me before I get absolutely no sleep at all.

Where to begin?

First off let me tell you that Blogger has been very cranky. With the whole new beta program in the works, that same program has prevented me from logging on to regular Blogger. Oh joy. Hence the dearth of posts from yours truly - ok, that's an excuse and only part of the problem but I'll take it.

Where to start ... hmmm. So much has happened in the last little while. Imri is growing by leaps and bounds - he is crawling all over the place and really starting to explore everything, especially when we say "no" ... imagine that. Sleep issues have not improved. We tried CIO ... yes boys and girls, we did.
Imri went to sleep and awoke at midnight. Cried for boob. I gave him said boob and tried to soothe him back to sleep - no go. So, we let him cry. I went in after 5 minutes, 10, 15, 20 and 30 minutes and he didn't stop screaming at the top of his lungs the entire 2 hours. Snot pouring down his face, tears streaming, the whole nine yards.

After two hours, John and I had had enough. I mean - there's only so much you can listen to your child scream as if his heart is being broken - two hours is a long, long time. It took us another hour and a half to calm him down enough to get him to sleep, which brought us to 3:30 am and I needed to be up at 5 to go to work. I knew that CIO wouldn't work for this child. *shrug*

Yeah. It was not a fun day. Neither John nor I were willing to do that again so it's been back to the usual "bring him into bed" story. Only he doesn't sleep well with us either - he sleeps better when it's just me or just John in the bed but with two of us he tosses and turns all night long - which wakes him - and us- up. Not to mention the need to nurse constantly. I am a very tired person these days and I hope fervently that when he starts to walk, I'll be able to tire him into sleep by chasing him around a lot. Amen.

We also had my immigration hearing this week. It went well - they asked a bunch of questions and asked to see lots of documents, particularly Imri's birth certificate and stuff we owned jointly. Fortunately, John remembered my birthday and place of birth - I remembered his, so all was well. I was then asked if I planned on committing any number of felonies while in the USA, including espionage. Right.

The INS person told us we should be hearing good news soon, so hurray! Green card, here I come. Now if only I can have my citizenship in order for the next election, that would be wonderful ...




After the hearing, the three of us headed down to Baltimore's Inner Harbour and had an absolutely lovely time by the water. Water mellows me. It nourishes something inside my soul that allows my nice half to come out, instead of the bitch that's usually on duty. It didn't hurt that we had a nice lunch at the Cheesecake F@ctory and that Imri was his usual well-behaved self.




John was also very mellow and relaxed - immigration shit really gets you worked up, so knowing it was basically over did us both good. I kept repeating to him "I can't believe how relieved I am!!" so the whole thing had obviously gotten under my skin more that I had anticipated. We had such a nice time that we headed home, hoping for adult time while Imri slept (yeah, I hear you laughing) only for me to put my back out from the strenuous activity of sitting down. Oy. *sigh*


Jr has registered for college part time and we are all delighted. Because he left it for the last minute, he has a Saturday class which cuts into his time with the biothing who, instead of congratulating him on being in college and for being the first in her family to ever go to college and in some cases, graduate from high school, (including her stripper daughter), berated the poor boy for taking a Saturday class because it cuts into her time with him and she pays (minimal) child support, damnit. Yeah, it's all about her. Jebus give me strength. Funny how suddenly she can drive out all this way to pick him up after his class, whereas before it was too much for her ...

But onto more pleasant things - Imri is growing by leaps and bounds. He weighs nearly 25 lbs now and we call him "bruiser". He is definitely going to be an All-Star tackle one day, seeing how he delights in pouncing on the kitty. He has developed a huge appetite for table foods, rarely eating baby food anymore and demanding a taste for whatever we happen to be eating (see: Factory, Cheesecake). He is exploring his world and checking out everything that moves - or doesn't. He loves music and dances to most anything and I have been playing him everything from Echo and the Bunnymen to Ella Fitzgerald. DMB is playing now.




Speaking of music, we took our young man to Nissan Pavilion to see Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young a couple of weekends ago. I had purchased an Ergo carrier (and I recommend them to all those who love wearing their bruiser-sized babies!) and it was an opportunity to use it as the Pavilion doesn't allow strollers. Imri was wonderful and the concert was excellent - it started off a little slowly, a lot of newer material, mostly Neil Young stuff but towards the end it was old tunes time - with a very strong anti-war flavour, including interesting video and Young's song against the President's lies. For all the concepts of love, peace etc, the t-shirts still cost 35 bucks each. I guess love and peace come at a price, man.

But for me the beauty was hearing those great songs again; Wooden Ships, Judy Blue Eyes, Woodstock to name a few. Yeah, the voices are rusty with age but the harmonies are still beautiful. I saw CSNY in Toronto not long before I moved here and it was a better concert in many ways, but this one was special for so many reasons - I was with my husband and my son. Nuff said.

As I mentioned earlier, Imri is crawling and eating regular food and growing in leaps and bounds. He is talking up a storm and is learning to wave hi and goodbye. Can I begin to tell you how utterly cute that is? He has even started to say and indistinct "hi". He feeds himself and has learned to feed his mother too, delighting in placing food in my mouth. He loves fruit and veggie dip, yogurt and cheese, goldfish and Gerber puffs. He claps his hands together proudly and beams when I say "potchy potchy hentelach" (Yiddish for clapping the hands). His giggles when I say "how does a cat make" and then meow loudly make the world light up.

Imri has learned to play peekaboo, hiding his own face delights him, especially when mommy pretends she can't see him - that laughter is something I embrace with my soul. He loves climbing all over me when I hide my own face under the pillows, rewarding me with sweet drooly kisses when he finds me.
And he is in love with anything that moves - especially cars - so his besotted mother bought him a Pooh Bear firetruck that blows bubbles - which in turn blows my boy's young mind. He is amazed by those bubbles.




Oh, and Budget wrote me a huge letter of apology and refunded my entire car rental fee, something I told them was unnecessary but hey, money is money. Yeah, about $300 worth ... so there you have it. And it's a good thing too, because John was in - count em- two fender benders last week and that money will be paying for the car rental he is currently using. And no, we didn't rent it from Budget. Oh, and they are also looking into changing their website to let people know that they don't install car seats. I'm not holding my breath.


In parting, I leave you with Imri's attempt to become an All-Star tackle - he loves that cat and she puts up with his manhandling with grace. Amazing grace.

Still here

Just a quick note to reassure those of you who wrote- we're still here and still a family . Yeah, the sleep thing is still ongoing - and I will post about our dismal attempt at cio at a later date - but John and I are good. Mostly ...

Marriage is damned hard work some days.

So much to tell, so much to say but not right now. I will try and post a longer update this weekend.

Thanks for caring.

Trouble in ...well, not paradise.

John and I are having some issues, which has led to a decrease in posting. Suffice it to say that we have wildly disparate ideas on parenting and anger management (his, not mine) and it's taking a toll on our relationship. A heavy toll, unfortunately.

Why does it seem that so many men have trouble with the concept of marriage counseling, anyway?

The situation is definitely not being helped by Imri's terrible sleeping habits - they had been improving before he was sick but since then it's been a giant step backwards with him waking every hour sometimes and us me not getting more than 1-2 hours of sleep in a row at any one time. Having tried a bunch of other things, I am at the stage where I am about ready to let him cry ... but John won't. He tried sitting in the room with Imri the other night while he was crying and all that did was serve to piss Imri off even more. I know, I have already tried that avenue and the same thing happened - but John doesn't like to listen to anything I say, it seems. My experience counts for zippo.

I mean, wouldn't it piss you off more if you were unhappy and crying and your parent just sat there and stared at you and did nothing but say "I'm here"? "I know you're here, damnit ... now pick me up and do something with me" would be what I'd be thinking.

Anyway, life is rough and posting will likely be (even more)sporadic. But I thought I'd post a picture of a very happy boy apres popsicle sharing with mommy.

A long overdue update

OOops. I've pissed off Jen. Yeah baby, come on over here. WITH your triplets. C'mon. I double dog dare ya. We'd have a blast!!! I'm not (very) scared at all.

Sorry for the long hiatus, folks - I'm delighted some of you are still here and reading. Thanks muchly.

The story sort of begun with the call "the bris is on Monday!". After much debate regarding Jr's work/driver's ed scheduling, John and I decided that it would be best if Imri came with me and we flew into Buffalo, then rented a car and drove into the GTA, or greater Toronto area. It sounded like a good plan and I figured I'd rent a car seat from the rental company and be done with it. Imri would travel as a "lap baby".

Yes, you heard right. Jr has a new job and is taking driver's ed. Finally. The lazy "please do everything for me daddy" boy has finally gotten off his tuchas. I believe it is partially because his father had me take him to the recruiting office one hot sunny Friday. And yes, I did it. I told him that he would talk to ALL of the services (all four branches were right there, beside one another) - his father particularly wanted him speaking to the Air Force (who aren't known for their hand-to-hand combat duties) - but he ended up speaking to the Marines alone. John was a Marine and Jr idolizes his dad so ... anyway, after all that it seems like he may join the Marine Reserves. Oy. The only thing holding it up is the citation that Jr got for selling cigs to a minor and while that is being taken care of (he isn't being charged, got off with a warning), the Marines are on hold.

But I digress.

Anyway, Imri and went on our way Friday, flying S0uthwest to Buffalo - the flight itself was great and Imri charmed everyone, including the pediatrician who sat beside us - oddly enough, no one else wanted to sit beside a mom and baby on a full flight. Strange how that is, huh? Oh, I remember those days ...

Trouble began when we arrived in Buffalo and went to get the rental car. Picture, if you will, a mommy and baby duo - baby in his stroller and falling asleep (thank heaven) and mom pushing an enormous suitcase with a duffel bag (filled with toys) on top, in ninety degree heat. Not fun.

Anyway, after waiting in line over 30 minutes to get our car and car seat, I was sent downstairs into the garage for pickup. At which time I was handed a car seat and a metal clip, shown my car and told by the employee that she had no idea how to install a car seat and that "Kevin", who was usually there to install the seats wasn't there today.

I did a double take and asked her politely who the hell was going to install it, then. She told me that Budget wouldn't install them anyway because of liability. I informed her that nowhere on their website did it say that 1)they wouldn't install the seats and 2)that there was a liability issue but she shrugged.

She pointed me to the rather unintelligible diagram on the carseat and left me to my own devices. In the garage of a strange city, with a getting-hungrier-by-the-moment infant, a car seat and clip and 90+ degree weather.

After about 10 minutes and some choice swearing on my part, she came back. She did try to help install it but left out the clip, so I knew it wasn't done right. I thanked her for her minimal effort and called John. He tried to explain to me, as it was a cheaper model of one of our seats but by this point, Imri was not happy and not shy about telling the world of his unhappiness. And discomfort with the heat. So I turned on the AC, and gave Imri my water bottle to play with and turned back to try and figure the damned seat out. Additionally, the straps for the seat itself were very tight and not adjustable at all, so I couldn't make them longer for Imri's chubby girth.

Imri's screaming from the stroller beside me reached record volumes and oddly, the three Budget employees continued to studiously ignore our presence. I took a look at my son and realized that he had somehow managed to open the water valve on the bottle and he was drenched. Moreover, now I had no water which which to make formula. I pulled his completely soaked self out of his stroller into my lap in the semi-cool car, and put him to the breast. Since I've stopped pumping my supply has dropped, but I hoped (and prayed) that I'd have enough to soothe his empty tummy, which I fortunately did. Imri was soon relatively content, albeit damp.

With that done and after 45 minutes of struggle and loud cursing in 90 degree+ weather, primarily directed at Budget and its powers-that-be, as well as talking to my husband long-distance on our cell phones, I finally thought I had figured it out and got the seat in, avec clip. Getting Imri into the skimpy straps was another matter but it eventually happened and we took off. I have phone calls and emails into Budget and will hopefully find time soon to write them a snail mail letter, detailing my displeasure. I will never ever rent from them again. No ifs, ands or buts.

After that drama, the events in Toronto were relatively ...uneventful other than Imri choosing to sprout his second tooth while we were there. My nephew is now on his first step towards becoming Jewish which will culminate with my SIL's conversion and dip in the mikvah. The ceremony was lovely and Imri made his opinions known loudly at the more inopportune moments, which I thought was pretty funny, considering.



In general, Imri is doing well other than this last week when he has been battling Coxsackie virus in its Herpangina incarnation. He battled a fever for four days, and it remained up there, even on alternating doses of Tylenol and Motrin - it is only now starting to break. He has been a trooper for the most part, although clingy and wanting only to nurse. Poor baby - he has blisters at the back of his throat and while I don't have tons of milk anymore, it seems to make him happy enough. He has also been treated to popsicles and the smallest, weeist amount of ice cream ... John stayed home with him Monday and I have been home with him since. He's definitely better but still clingy and wanting mommy. Oy, do my nipples hurt.

His nine month visit came just before the onslaught, where he measured in at 23lbs 5oz and 30 inches long! A bouncing baby boy, most definitely. Imri has also started pulling himself up on all and everything that will allow it


















and has finally started crawling forward, although in very small increments. He is standing well, to the point where he deplores playing with toys that mean he has to sit down. Well, other than books. And he is talking, non-stop. He says something that sound suspiciously like "car" when one goes by although it does sound similar to his word for "cat" and both John and I have heard him say something that sounds like "book" while "reading" one. He really is trying very hard to express himself and it is wonderful! He has also found my belly button, much to his delight.





So there you have it. I really didn't say everything I wanted to say but ... that's all you get for now.

And don't rent from Budget.

Good news, better news and other news

The papers didn't come in time, of course. On Monday afternoon, after I realized the mail had brought nothing but the usual bills, mortgage offers and flyers, I spent 90 minutes on the phone with increasingly "higher up" INS people via their call centre and was told there was absolutely zip they could do for me.

It will also give you great comfort to know that the INS person in, say ... Chicago - can't access the computer system of the person in Baltimore, for example. So while the customer service peon was able to tell me that my petition had been approved, the actual INS officer I spoke with some time later was unable to see that same information. In fact, she was only able to see older info that showed my application still pending. Nice to know that Dept of Homel@nd Security has intra-operability. Shhh. Don't let Al Qaeda know.

I pretty much dissolved into tears when I got off the phone. Fortunately for me, it was time to leave work, so I scrambled out of there before I broke down.

The better news - and the good news - are that my papers did come Wednesday and the document allows me to cross the border multiple times until July of next year! Hopefully by then, I'll have my green card but I'm not holding my breath. It seems that I filed at a popular time, as the sabre-rattling of the various Houses of government regarding immigration, has finally got a lot of procrastinators off their collective asses. Yay.

The other good news - or not, depending on your perspective, is that the bris was postponed. My sister in law is not Jewish and by Jewish law, the baby (Judaism goes by matrilineal lines) is not Jewish until he undergoes conversion. Supposedly the rabbis are meeting on Monday to discuss what needs to be done - obviously my brother wants this done right, so we are all waiting patiently. I am not sure what converting of a newborn entails - some googling revealed a dip in the mikvah after the bris but Mindy may know more.
So we wait.

And I will be able to go, without issue - I am so happy about that! The thought of missing my nephew's bris had me completely broken down, seriously.

Imri still isn't sleeping through the night. Nothing new there. If anything, its gotten worse, probably due to teething. Jr is being a shit. Nothing new there. I'm about done with him. John is being a twat, especially in regards to Jr. That comes and goes and is getting old. Very effing old.

But we did have a nice time at the town fair. Imri seemed to enjoy himself but it was very loud and that seemed to make him very quiet. He is not normally quiet these days - in fact, he has taken to shrieking very loudly, especially when he isn't getting the attention His Highness feels is his due. Oy. But he seemed to like the rides. It turned out to be a nice 5th of July for us all, even if I did have helmet hair.

In which I get angry at the goddamned INS

It all started with my cell phone ringing while I was in the procedure room, caring for a patient. A quick glance showed a Toronto number - my heart always clutches a little when that happens. I figured one of two things; 1)my brother and his wife had their baby or 2)something bad had happened to a parental unit. Fortunately, it was the former option - a baby boy! Wonderful news - I had known in my heart that it was a boy- don't ask me how. Just as I knew that Imri was going to be a boy, I knew. There's no science to it.

And thus began the Immigration SNAFU. For those not in the know, SNAFU stands for "situation normal - all fucked up". I believe it has military origins - wouldn't surprise me one iota.

So ... upon the realization that a baby boy had been born to my brother in a different country than the one in which I currently reside, I pulled out my immigration papers. Amongst them was the receipt for something called an I-131 or Application for Travel Document or "advance parole". Basically, it's a document which would allow me to travel to Canada for a special occasion without forfeiting my status (which is currently "shut the fuck up and wait" it seems). Forfeiting my status would basically invalidate all the paperwork John and I had filed, including fees. That would be bad. Very very bad. The fee for this document alone was a crazy $170.

So ...I called the 1-800 number listed on the form and pressed the various options, finally hearing that there was no new information for my case and the anticipated wait time for the document would be approximately 30-60 days. My calendar said June 28th. I filed on April 24th. 60 days had come and gone.

So ... I pushed a bunch of other buttons and finally spoke with a customer service "specialist". I explained the situation to her and she told me I had two options; 1) go to a specific website and make an appointment with an Immigration counselor in Baltimore to discuss my situation or 2)if no appointment was available before I needed to leave, I should just meander on over to the INS in Baltimore and throw myself on their mercy, hoping they could see me. Yeah.

I was in luck. They had an appointment for 11 am. It was 9:08. I looked at Imri and made an executive decision to get going. I grabbed all the necessary (to me) paperwork, Imri's brand new Jeep Liberty Urban Terrain stroller, a diaper bag and boogied.





We arrived in Baltimore with about 20 minutes to spare, a testament to my superior speeding driving skills and the lack of cops on the Interstate. I signed in and waited. My number was called and I went to speak with the INS official.

Now I worked in Baltimore at Ginormous Famous Hospital. Baltimorean attitude (and big hair)is not new to me, especially amongst those who figure a little power goes a long way (see: medical clerks and ICU cleaning people. See also: INS "specialists", and weird hair-dos). Yeah, Charm City - my tuchas.
Anyway, I explained my story to her, including the filing of the previous I-131 and why I hadn't received it yet and her response was "Oh ma'am, the 30-60 days is just a guideline. It can take up to 6 months". I did a backstep. Whoa. OK, I kept going
and told her what the customer service person had advised me to do. She was indifferent: "Is this a life or death emergency??" I maintained how it was perhaps a life emergency to me and my family, yes. Where was my proof, she demanded.
I was puzzled. Proof? I queried. Yes, she said haughtily with a raised brow. "How do I know that there was an actual baby born?? Where is your proof??".

Boys and girls, I was dumbfounded. Yes, loquacious me was left pretty much speechless. After all, I'm not asking to travel to Uzbekistan. "Ummm the baby was born yesterday. In Canada. I don't really have any proof". The INS flunky nods and continues argumentatively back and forth with me. She teases me with "well, I could query the status of your I-131...". I look at her gratefully till she continues with "..but that would cost you another $170". I looked at her astonished. And promptly burst into tears.

Now if I had been thinking (which I wasn't, I was going on straight emotional stressed-out, over-tired momma hormones), I probably would have thought to myself "self, don't give this power-greedy bitch the satisfaction of knowing she made you cry". I'm fortunate that my emotional side spoke up because once I started crying, my beloved Imri who till that point had been sunshine and light, started crying too.

Which touched something inside the INS bitch's cold heart and she said "let me talk to my supervisor". I gulped and blubbered a thank you and held Imri close. She returned after a few ... "My supervisor says we will ok it IF you file another petition". I nod slowly as she continues "but we will need another 2 pictures AND another fee of $170". My face must have showed my dismay because she shook her head and said "that's all I can do".

What would you have done? Emotional blackmail of the highest order - my nephew's bris and seeing the family is going to cost me an arm and a leg - money that has ALREADY BEEN PAID and should be refunded (they don't refund fees, oh no. Never. Period.)This document which would allow me to cross the border legally and without penalty is now going to cost me $340. Not to mention money lost from days of work lost. And we are beyond broke.

But it's family. And family is everything. So I did it. Imri and I went to the Ritz camera and I got pictures done. Then the ATM, then to the Rite Aid for a money order. Fill out the petition again. Go back to Big Hair and submit it all. "Have a seat" she says.

And I wait. And wait. And wait. I am finally called up by a woman whom I assume is the supervisor who tells me that the document will go out in the mail that evening. I am blown away again ..."so I won't get it now?". "No ma'am, it will be mailed out. It should arrive in 3-5 days".

That was Thursday. It's now Sunday and nothing. There is no mail Tuesday the 4th. The bris is supposedly Wednesday although it may be delayed because the baby had an infection at birth and because I beseeched my brother to push it back because I really really really can't afford to miss two days of work.

With my luck, I will be out $340 and I still won't be able to go to my nephew's bris.

Can I tell you how much this fucking SUCKS???? How angry I am at the rudeness and callousness of the INS and this money-grabbing scheme of theirs? How wrong this is? How angry it makes me to think that at this very moment there are probably several hundred illegals making their way into this country with little or no hindrance, but I, who had dotted my i's and crossed my t's has to pay through the nose??

The only saving grace of the day was my sweet and beautiful boy, who other than the one crying incident in front of Big Hair, was a complete angel. In fact, a gentleman who had been sitting there waiting together with me and other anxious petitioners, came up to me and said "Ma'am, you have the happiest baby I have ever seen. He's wonderful!". Yes, Imri charmed the INS waiting room. That'll teach em in Charm City.
Oh, and that's while he's teething, too. Yes, boys and girls - we have our first tooth!



And so we wait. Wish me luck that it comes tomorrow. I know it won't, I know it in my heart - but wish me luck anyways.

A letter to Imri

My sweet boy,

You are now nearly 8 and a half months old and I can't believe the constant transformations I see in you.

You are sweet - yes, all mommies believe their babies are sweet but you truly are a sweet-tempered and happy/sunshiny boy. You love to laugh, you smile so much. People who see you in a store can't help but smile at your beaming face and reach out to you.
Nothing delights you more than mommy holding you as you jump and jump on the couch. I see shades of the boy you are becoming ... a beautiful boy I see jumping on beds and moonbounces and everything else he can find.

Imri, you are the most alert baby I've ever known. You look at everything, stare at everything. I wonder what it is you see, how your mind processes each and every new thing that comes your way. You are entranced by cars and their movement - also by our cats and their movement. Some of your biggest smiles happen when Simcha comes into the room.

You love books. I mean ... you adore them. Chewing them, flipping their pages, staring at the pictures intently. You look up at me as I read to you and laugh and try to touch my lips.

Words are coming to you now. I swear I heard you said "cat" the other day when Simcha came meandering by. Your favourite word is "da DA da" said in that beautiful small voice. You beam at me when you say a "word" and I repeat it back to you. Such happiness - you are a happy child, beloved boy.

You show strong preferences when it comes to foods and aren't afraid to tell me so loudly - we've started yoghurt and you love it. You love gnawing on fresh peaches and other fruit but get frightened and "choke" on their texture. You were less enthused of the broccoli/chicken jarred food but seem to love the apple/chicken thingie. Yes, I'm feeding you jarred baby food which makes me squirm, but before long you'll be eating table foods too ... if only a tooth or two would make an appearance. Lots of drool, no teeth. I know they're coming. But this works well with the breastfeeding thang - which I'm still doing, albeit less of now.

Beloved boy, you're still not sleeping well at night - I know you want to cuddle and nurse with mommy all night, but it's not working for mommy, my love. Not for a lack of desire - but because we live in a country that doesn't support mommies staying at home with their babies. I have to work - and need to sleep.
If we lived in Canada, I'd still be home with you - and I'd have another 4 months to go. It still breaks my heart a little each time I drop you off at the daycare.

You haven't figured out the knack of crawling yet - you rock back and forth and end up moving backwards. You love standing and "walking" when mommy holds your hands. You get SO excited when you walk, it's incredible to see - as if you can sense that you are on the verge of freedom. You try to stand when you can but you haven't quite gotten the concept of pulling yourself up yet.

The jumperoo is still one of your favourite toys and I will mourn when you are too big for it - and the day is getting close now. 22 lbs at your last doctor's visit! You are such a big boy - and you are starting to look more little-boy-like now, and less babyish, which brightens my day and hurts my heart a little, all at the same time.

You have so many toys and books! Mommy can't help herself, especially at yard sales. She got you a toy bus, truck and train yesterday (all for 2 dollars! Your mommy loves yard-saling) because of your seeming fascination with all things that move - and sure enough, you love that bus. The truck and train will wait till you're a little older, I think.

You get such a big smile when mommy starts to sing the "bushel and a peck" song - it seems to be your favourite out of all the songs I sing. Such a big smile and you even give kisses, sometimes. They are the sweetest kisses I've ever known.

The bath seems to be a source of fascination - you've really taken to it and love the different toys that show up in your tub. Banging toys together is a favoured pastime now as is splashing in the water. For a boy who didn't always like water, you sure do love that duck tub now!

I love nursing you to sleep, Imri sweet. Be it breast or bottle, I love watching your face become tranquil with food and comfort, the way you snuggle down into the crook of my arms, the way your breathing changes and slows, the little sounds of contentment you make as you drift off. I stand at the side of your crib and watch you breathe, trying to mark the moment, the beauty of your face in my mind forever.

Even on the most difficult and exhausting days, I love being with you, Imri. You make it all worthwhile. I never knew I could love like this ... I never knew you would be so incredibly and utterly wonderful. You are more than I ever dared ... no, more than I ever knew existed - to hope for. I get afraid sometimes, sweet boy - afraid that this near-perfection can't last - but then I look at your sweet face and am reassured.

Because even now at this young age, you amaze me. And I know deep in my heart that is never going to change. You are very very deeply loved, my Imri sweet.

Sleep - the ongoing saga

Is it only me that fails the word verification thingies that blogger (and other sites) use to prevent spambots? I'll get something like mqwkvgewyfs. I type it in carefully, hit the "submit" button and ... I get another jumble of letters with "please try again" or some such. Some days I feel like such a loser.

Anyway, the sleep thing continues to defy us. At most, Imri will sleep between 1.5-3 hours at a stretch. When he does sleep a whole three hours, the skies open and angels weep for joy. Of course, that could also just be my brain, delighting in REM sleep once again. Wow. Three whole hours is such a source of joy - it's kind of like the rejoicing that commences when I see that the gas station nearby is selling gasoline for only $2.85 a gallon. Who woulda thunk that I'd ever get excited over either of those things?

I did read some Weissbluth, a recommendation of some wise ladies and ... we just can't do it. CIO, or crying it out, just won't work for our family. At least not right now. I did take away some useful pointers like "bedtime doesn't have to be exactly at the same time every night" and so on which helps, as I don't like being rigid ... but we shall see. Imri did sleep for a decent chunk of time (about two hours, so no angels singing) last night but that could also be because he hadn't really slept since close to his noon nap at daycare. Most of the remainder of the night, he spent in bed with me. And I actually did sleep for a large (all things are relative, boys and girls) part of the night, until I was awoken by a fairly fierce thunder storm at 4am. Ah well.

Father's Day was a wonderful success. John loved the pictures of Imri that I had framed for him - it was the same pic, only I had them enlarged professionally and one copy was black and white - he absolutely loved them. Imri got him a Nike golf shirt of some special "moisture wicking" material and that was a big hit too.





We ended up going to Ruby Tuesd@ys for dinner that evening, as I had received a gift card which was begging to be used. We were a tad nervous about taking Imri out to a restaurant, but it was a wonderful experience. I brought baby food, rattles and various other paraphernalia - Imri was delighted to be sitting up with the big folks and eating, able to survey all around him (and be adored by same). He decided to partake of our conversation and offered such insights as "da da da DA! DA!! ba ba BA!!". We were impressed but decided to have dessert at home. He was so good as to make it a fun evening for us - it made us realize that we should do it more often.

On to more good news; Imri saw Dr Wonderful this morning and his hemoglobin, hematocrit and ferritin levels are all within normal range. He will remain on iron drops for 2 more months and ... his spleen is back to normal size. His ears are clear despite the cold that has beleaguered him recently and he is just so absolutely delicious that all the nurses flock to him whenever I bring him in. It's very sweet - Imri takes it in stride as his due, of course. My center-of-attention son ... very cute.

I've been keeping to myself of late - sleep deprivation and some home-front trouble, not to mention a fairly heavy period (I'm guessing due to less pumping/breastfeeding)have led to a bit of sadness and lack of coping. I hesitate to term it depression because I am feeling better and my tsoures are small potatoes in the grand scheme of things. It did feel pretty awful when I was deep in the throes, but I've gotten over myself. Oh and my mother finally did call. Not necessary but nice.

So there you have it. A blogger keeping to herself sort of defeats the purpose of blogging but some days I don't have the energy. If I did, I'd probably already be down the thirtytwenty pounds I need to lose very desperately. I'll try and stay in touch.

On a schedule - for what it's worth

Life continues merrily on its path. Jr graduated from high school to our joy and relief. He then proceeded while at work, to sell cigarettes to an underage kid who also happened to be an undercover cop. We await his punishment - he is suspended from work until they say otherwise. Yeah. Well, at least he graduated. Nuff said.

Imri is flourishing and growing bigger before my eyes. To the extent that we find ourselves driving to the nearest baby store today, to purchase a convertible car seat as his infant seat no longer fits him ... *sob*!
He is babbling away and his word recognition is growing in leaps and bounds. He gets very excited at the word "book". Imri is exploring the world around him and trying mightily to crawl. He has the up on all fours down pat, it's the forward motion that eludes him. He rocks and rocks and ends up moving backwards - which is still movement, you know.

He delights in standing up - assisted, of course - he is very sturdy on his feet and will take steps as well. He gets very excited by this. His latest thing is not the beloved jumperoo, but a basket filled with small toys which he delights in emptying over and over again - with much gnawing and chewing involved. He does, however, absolutely love jumping on beds, couches or anything bouncy upon which his doting mother will help him bounce. I'd do anything to hear that amazing laugh. Absolutely anything.






He is pouring drool these days but still no tooth to be seen. His behaviour is definitely teething behaviour though - he is chewing on everything and anything.

To top it all off, it's as if a lightbulb went off and he has gone nuts over solids! Hurray! From the boy that would spit everything out and cry when you fed him, he has turned into an eating machine; three solids meals a day, including meats, veggies, fruit and oatmeal. Pretty much anything and everything we put in his mouth, much to our joy.

To our chagrin however, was the discovery that a full belly doesn't necessarily mean better sleep. We were hopeful, I tell you. He even slept a full three hours a couple of nights. Last night disabused us of the notion that things were improving, unfortunately. Imri woke after 30 minutes, then after 15 minutes, then 15 minutes, then 45 minutes. We got up to an hour interval when I pulled him into our bed. Enough. I need SOME sleep.

I'm hoping this is a mere bump on the sleep highway. We have instituted a schedule for my beloved boy, despite my declaration to John some months ago "our boy does fine without a schedule!" -which was true at the time but seems to be that way no longer. John had difficulty accepting the whole concept of change but he is getting over it. Slowly.

Anyway, this is our schedule right now, with some minor alteration on the weekends when Imri seems to know he can sleep in. That's my boy ...

Wake: Usually around 5-6 am, depending on whether he has daycare or not.
Leave for work/daycare around 6:15. Sometimes he nurses, sometimes not. Usually he has been sucking on boob part of the night so he's not terribly hungry.
Arrive at daycare around 6:45 - nurse.
Or if home, nurse around 7:30 ish.
First nap around 8 - 8:30. The last couple of weekend days he has woken closer to 7 am so the early nap has gone down the toilet. I am not sure that will be the case on early morning days.
Breakfast when he awakes, 9ish. 4 Tbl oatmeal and fruit and veg.
Playtime.
He usually nurses or gets a bottle some time between 10 and 12.
Nap - now this seems to vary. Sometimes he naps early (usually for me) and sometimes he naps later (usually for daycare). So it remains fluid. So it could be at 11 (yes!)and it could be at 1.(boo)
12-1 Lunch - 4tbl oatmeal, fruit and veg.
Playtime.
Nap - usually around 3-4. Sometimes later, such as when John picks him up from daycare and he falls asleep in the car. Usually around a 30 minute nap.
Bottle or nurse
Playtime.
6ish - dinner. Meat and veg. No fruit or juice or anything sugary. We try and stay low-key from here on in, including low key playtime.
7ish bathtime. We do it every night now.
7:30 we read books
7:45 bottle/nurse
8-8:15 bedtime. (Some on my bulletin board say 8 is too late for bed but I don't often get home from work until 6:30, so it has to fit into our home life and that seems to work well.)

Then wake wake wake wake and want to nurse nurse nurse nurse. *sigh*. He does fall asleep with relative ease to music - both his lullaby mobile and his Aquarium one get called into service at different times. Last night as I was about to pull my hair out, I decided to use the aquarium ... halleluyah. He finally slept for about 1-2 hours. Imri usually ends up in our bed around 3-4 am out of my desperation for some form of sleep. Where he nurses a lot but not as much as he used to. (I wonder if that has anything to do with his ear surgery - I also wonder if that is the reason he wants to eat too - or if that was just plain ol' perseverance.)

We did try a teeny-weeny-mini-attempt at CIO last night at one point, to see if he would lull himself back to sleep, but he just kept escalating and escalating, to the point that when we did go in, it took a lot longer to bring him down than if we had gone in earlier. And perhaps that is what caused the many reawakenings of that night. Who knows? Not I.
Anyway, it's a big Nope. Not doing it. I don't care how many people email me or comment and say "hey, cio is the only thing that worked, it was awful but it worked ..." "awful" is a word I don't want to associate with my son. Not now, not ever. If it is that miserable an experience, it's not the right way to go for us. Both John and I feel strongly about this. And both of us (more me, of course) aren't getting much sleep.

At least we agree on that. Pretty much all other bets seem to be off.

Comments? Ideas? Suggestions(that don't involve CIO)?

My husband also seems to want to do something called "sex". I vaguely remember this - it felt good, if I remember correctly. However, right now when given the choice between sleep and this "sex" thing ... I pick sleep. Call me silly. And call him frustrated. Oy.






PS - my mother still hasn't called.

Chapter 2 (or is it 3?) in "I think I was raised by wolves"

My parents are older - I've mentioned this before - and rather set in their ways but aside from that, my mother tends to take every situation and ratchet it up several notches. I'm not sure if this is a cry for attention or whether she's just never learned to cope appropriately but her attitude tends to rain down on the rest of us, including my father.

I've tried very hard to call them frequently as we live so far away and I want them to share in their grandson's life as much as possible, but you have to wade through a lot of my mother's bullshit and it's getting old and tired. There is always something that has ruined something else for my mother. My mother could find flaws in perfection, trust me.

They do have my sympathies as they had a difficult week. Their fridge compressor died and they had to go 5 days without a fridge which is hard, especially in your 70s - but I called to say hi yesterday and you would have thought I had asked my mother to drop everything and walk on over the 700 miles or so to visit us ...

You see, she's completely stressed out. Why? Because my brother and his wife are expecting in July (nothing new) and sister B is going in for surgery around the same time(we also knew this)and how mom just can't care for her kids because she's exhausted (ok, just tell her, you're always exhausted) and sister A is not well (also nothing new) and the fridge and yadayadayadayadayadayada and how her hand hurts (!!!!)because she was on the phone for an hour (!!!!)with sister A and how she's just going to have to call me back tomorrow.

Which wouldn't be a big deal if she hadn't said exactly the same thing last week and I never heard from her. Or how she seems to call very rarely now anyway.

Add to this that my parents have told me that they are coming here at some point during the summer (either before or after a visit to Quebec for whale-watching) and I'd like to get an approximation so perhaps I can rent a cottage at the beach or plan something nice to do for them and us - and while their ETA is dependent on whether or not my brother and his wife have a boy (for a bris or baby naming) it would still be nice to get approximates, but I obviously made the mistake of asking more than once over a two week period.
You would think I had asked for the moon. I mean - I'm trying to do something nice. Anyway, whatever. Besides, John and I do have some plans (not many) this summer and we will not cancel them at the last minute because my parents suddenly decide that "this is the weekend we're coming ..."

So I'm listening to my mother and making the appropriate commiseration sounds and I asked her if she got the last batch of Imri pics in her email, hoping this might improve her mood. She got all upset and it became a huge production, how she hasn't had time, the fridge was so stressful, everything is so stressful, she didn't really look at the pictures and how she just can't cope ... (did I mention that the fridge is fixed now?) and how badly my father took the poor customer service of the fridge repair people ....and she abruptly says something like "I just can't handle all this and I will call you tomorrow" and I got short with her and said "fine" and hung up. I mean, I was just calling so she could hear how her grandson is talking, really but she never even asked how he was.

It's my guess she could tell I was upset and she had my dad call back only I didn't answer when I saw their number light up the caller ID and my dad (who has to deal with all her moods, poor man) left a message about how I shouldn't worry about when they're coming they will let us know - so now it sounds as if that's why I called -which isn't why ...ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! It looks like they tried to call again in the afternoon when we were out, but no message was left so maybe she clued in.

I am just getting so tired of mom and her issues crap. Why can't she just take a chill pill and relax and try and enjoy her grandson (and everything else in life), rather than working everything into a state of panic?? Why does everything have to be a major meltdown?

I was so hurt yesterday I actually cried when I got off the phone. I should be used to my parent's rejection by now. I guess it just never occurred to me that it would be directed at my son, directly or indirectly. I'm just not going to let him ever be affected by that crap.