Chicken With Its Head Cut Off

There's this song by The Magnetic Fields that goes "My heart's runnin' 'round like a chicken with its head cut off.  All around the barn yard fallin' in and out of love.  Poor thing's blind as a bat, gettin' up, fallin' down, gettin' uuuuuup.  Who'd fall in love with a chicken with its head cut off?"  It's as great song, and it's fun to listen to, but it gets stuck in my head rather easily.  In fact, I had this song stuck in my head the entire time I was in labor with Chubbs.  All. 27. Hours.

Not so much the whole chorus, as the "gettin' up, fallin' down, gettin' uuuuuup" part.  As annoying as it got (especially after the 18-hour mark), it was how I got myself to keep "getting up" after every contraction, something that got harder and harder the longer I labored.  My midwife was of the mind that in some ways a long labor isn't necessarily a bad thing: it helps you keep things in perspective later on when your child won't, oh, let's say, sleep.

Let me pause here and say that I hate lessons.  They really irk me.  It's like the Universe is saying, "I told you so.  I told you there's a reason for certain life experiences."  I'd like to give the Universe a good, swift kick in the shins.  But sometimes the Universe is right.  Grumble, grumble.  So there you are Universe; you were right.  Let's not make a habit out of it.

Anyway, I often think of my long labor (as well as the week leading up to the long labor when Chubbs was overdue and I wanted to stab forks in my eyes and Chris feared for his life) when I'm having a particularly rough time with Chubbs.  Like today.  I spent, count 'em, 73 minutes - that's an hour and thirteen minutes - trying to get Chubbs back to sleep after he woke up in the middle of a nap.

Ok, lemme clarify.  I had no trouble getting him back to sleep.  What I did have trouble with was getting him back into his crib to continue his nap.  I tried five (yeah, you heard me) times to put him down, and every single time he immediately woke up and got upset.  After the fifth time I just gave up, which came back to haunt me this evening when Chubbs got really crabby and started sounding like a constipated cat when he cried.  One can only take so much.

Anyone with a child knows how freaking annoying it is when said child won't sleep.  Not only are they crabby because they're tired,  but you have no time for yourself because you spend all your time trying to get them to sleep.  This has been going on for a few weeks for Chubbs and me, and I'm really ready for it to be over.  I need sleep.  And as exasperating as it is to continually have to pick him up, get him back to sleep, put him in his crib, and repeat, I know (hope?) that it will eventually come to an end, and in a few years I will wish that my little boy would let me hold him while he sleeps.  But in the meantime, I just keep reminding myself that I have to keep getting up.

Of Boxes and Bathrooms

So apparently this is my first post for August, which is a little sad.  But things have been a bit of a whirlwind lately, so I think I have a pretty good excuse.  We sold our house (after only 9 days on the market, I might add) and bought a new one, and we move in a week.  We started packing today.  And packing with a little one around the house presents some fairly tricky obstacles.  We found that we can get about 20 minutes of work done before Chubbs wakes up/is hungry/is tired of Noggin, which means you can really only pack about one box per hour.  This is going to be a long week.

In the interest of being optimistic (only because I have just had a large bowl of ice cream to cheer me up), I am super-excited about our new house.  We will have a big, gorgeous kitchen with cabinet space up the wazoo, a full, unfinished basement to do with as we please, and a master bathroom with...wait for it...two sinks and a separate tub and shower!!!!  I am now drooling.  I should mention that Chris's favorite part is having the toilet in its own, separate area with a door.  He's really excited about this.

But in order to get there, we have to pack.  Thank goodness my parents were able to come over today and help us out.  We got a lot done, but now we're sort of at the random-crap phase, where you have all these extra bits that you can't really throw away, but you're not really sure how to pack them so that there is some semblance of order.  I will probably end up just throwing them all in a box, and then avoid opening it until I absolutely have to.

Speaking of throwing stuff in boxes, we tried to get Chubbs to amuse himself with a few toys in a box today.  Most kids love playing in boxes because it's a small, secure area that the have all to themselves.  But Chubbs was not content unless he was standing in the box and rocking it back and forth, or hanging is upper body over the edge.  He got a little taste of freedom when he jumped out of his crib earlier this week, and I think he's looking for another high.  Good thing we didn't buy the house with the all-too-easily-accessible ledge overlooking the living room.  Although the kid will probably just find something else to rappel down.

I hit mental gridlock at about midday, which is why I'm eating ice cream and messing around online instead of packing.  So if anyone wants to come over and help me throw random crap in boxes, I would appreciate it.  I pay in beer.

Mothership

I'm not sure what it is about the Cherry Creek Whole Foods, but apparently crazy ladies flock there.  Yesterday while we were in the checkout line an older lady eating Ben and Jerry's Karamel Sutra ice cream with a straw randomly came up to us and stuck her face rightupclose to Chubbs's face saying, "We have an eager shopper!"  I don't even know what that means.

The Pits

Chubbs has a thing for sticking his hands in my armpits.  I’m not really sure what this is about.  No matter how many times I remove his hands, or how hard I squeeze my arms to my torso, he always manages to worm his chubby little fingers into my armpit.  And proceeds to scratch or pinch me.  I’m not really sure which is worse: to have sharp, little baby nails digging into my skin, or to have a small portion of my skin rolled between his surprisingly strong thumb and forefinger.  At least he has a good pincer grasp.

It seems to mostly be restricted to times when he wants to be comforted, like when we are nursing, when he is trying to fall asleep, or when he is nursing while asleep in the middle of the night.  This last one is particularly annoying, as you might imagine.  It’s fairly hard to sleep while you have a little fist opening and closing in your armpit.

Which begs the question, what is it about his hands in my armpits that is comforting?  My deodorant is “energizing citrus and lemongrass,” which doesn’t seem exceptionally comforting.  And I’m pretty sure he’s never heard of Mary Katherine Gallagher.  

Temporarily Evicted

Because our house is on the market, we have to spend a good portion of everyday out and about so that random people can come wander through our house and hopefully decide that it is totally worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.  This can get a bit tricky with an 8-month-old little guy who gets very cranky when he doesn't nap well/long enough/when he wants.

Moreover, the dog has to come with us, which puts some restrictions on where we can go.  This afternoon, I decided we should walk around Cherry Creek (a local shopping area) so that I could deposit some checks I had been carrying around and make a quick trip to the grocery store.  Before all that, we walked around a little bit so that Morris could get some exercise, and I took the opportunity to catch up with a friend via phone.

Right after we finished our conversation, the booking agency for home showings called, and then our realtor called, followed by the booking agency again.  All in all I spent about 4o minutes with the phone to my ear while wandering aimlessly about Cherry Creek with a baby and a dog in 85 degree weather.  Toward the end I had sweat dripping from my armpit down the back of my arm.  It was as gross as it sounds.  And I never went to the bank.  Or the grocery store.

Later in the evening, we had another showing, so I figured we could do the grocery shopping.  I got the diaper bag, the baby, and the dog in the car and set off.  That's when I realized I had the dog in the car, and grocery shopping maybe wasn't the best idea.  But we really needed some food basics, and what else was I going to do?

I parked in the parking structure so the car would stay cool, and left the windows rolled down.  Plus, it had just rained, so Morris was fine.  In the store, I managed to restrict myself to only one impulse purchase (I even put back the other item I had grabbed), and the only other things not on the list were snacks for Chubbs and myself; it was dinner time, after all.

After paying for our items, Chubbs and I sat down to eat.  Sort of.  Trying to feed myself while feeding Chubbs in his sling with no bib made it more like a circus act.  And then Crazy Lady sat down next to us.  

Crazy Lady: What's his name?

Me: Cormac

Crazy Lady: (wrinkling her nose) Oh.

Pause, at which point I glance over at her and notice she has spilled her carton of milk everywhere.

Crazy Lady: I got my prescriptions filled today and they were $32 dollars.  Can you believe that?

Me: Wow.  That's expensive.  Thinking: maybe if I were at work I would be ok having this conversation, but I'm totally not getting paid right now.

Crazy Lady:  How much are your prescriptions?

Me: Ummm, I don't really have any.

Crazy Lady: That's good.  I thought my Medicare would pay for mine, but it didn't.

Me: Medicare can be tough.

Crazy Lady: If you have AIDS you don't have to pay for your prescriptions.

Me: Wow, Cormac!  You are messy!  Let's go wipe you off.

This all took place at the Cherry Creek Whole Foods.

I actually remembered to get my parking validated before leaving the store, and as I pushed the cart toward the parking garage, the wheels locked up.  Apparently Whole Foods has a problem hanging on to their carts because they installed one of those invisible lines that makes the wheels on the cart lock up when you go past it.  It was half way to the parking garage.  Whoever thought it would be a good idea to put the invisible line before the garage needs to be kicked in the shins.  So I had to carry a baby, a diaper bag, and groceries the rest of the way to the garage and up three levels to our car.

And I still needed to go to the bank.  So I put the diaper bag and groceries in the car, got the dog out, put his leash on, and shut and locked the car.  Then I remembered my wallet was still inside the car.  Curses!

Finally armed with my wallet, we made it to the bank and I was able to deposit the checks with some help from Chubbs.  Hopefully the teller can read the total amount on the envelope (the "5" looked more like a "b"); if nothing else I'm pretty sure they know how to add.

We' better get an offer soon.

Roughing It

This past weekend, we took Chubbs on his first camping trip.  Since this was my first camping trip as a Mother With a Small Child, I searched around on the internet for some tips for camping with babies.  The results yielded two opinions on the matter: 1) It's awesome!  Just make sure you bring lots of clothes; and 2) You're crazy.

Since I already know that I'm crazy, I decided to pay more attention to the first opinion.  I followed the clothes advice and brought 2+ outfits per day for Chubbs, as well as several jackets and hats, a few blankets, and lots of bibs and burp cloths.  I also packed the car with three baby carriers - a sling, a front carrier, and a backpack (all of which were used during our trip, I might add).  For such small beings, babies need a lot of stuff.  I remembered everything we needed for Chubbs, but somehow packed myself four pairs of pants and no rain jacket.  Way to go, Brain.

My biggest curiosity was where would the baby sleep?  I am forever worrying about how warm my boys are (I have been known to cover the dog with a blanket on particularly cold camping nights.  Surprisingly, Morris doesn't like this), so naturally I wanted to make sure Chubbs had a warm and cozy sleeping arrangement.  I decided on a sleeping bag of sorts; there was no way I was buying an actual sleeping bag for an 8-month-old, so my mom sewed together the sides of a piece of fleece to make a little bag.  My plan was for Chubbs to sleep in his sleeping bag in between Chris and me in our zipped-together sleeping bags.

On our first night, I put Chubbs down for the night in his sleeping bag, and a few hours later, we joined him in the tent.  On a side note, getting ready for bed in a semi-dark tent while simultaneously trying to get the dog to lay down, attempting not to fall over, and avoiding waking the baby is no small feat.  Anyway, after we were finally in our sleeping bags with the baby in between us in his little bag, we drifted off to sleep to the sound of the creek near our tent.

I awoke two hours later to a squirmy, sweaty, hot baby.  Apparently, Chubbs is a roasty-toasty little fellow who was not terribly pleased by my attempts to wrap him in several layers of fleece.  So I took him out of his fleece bag and he slept quite comfortably between Chris and me in our sleeping bags, occasionally kicking off the portion covering him.  I was the only one who was cold.  The next two nights we removed Chubbs from his bag before going to sleep.

Chubbs loved pretty much everything about camping: waking up to the dog's nose in his face, hanging out in the tent (to a point), being outside the majority of the time, watching the trees sway in the wind, playing with sticks four times his size, eating pancakes, and being held most of the time.  The only thing he did not like?  Not having his bouncer there.  But there was no way I was packing that monstrosity in the already crammed-full car.  Besides, this way everyone got a great arm workout.

Thinking of going camping with your kiddo?  Here are my tips:

1) Bring lots of clothes

2) Bring extra wipes - camping is dirty

3) Don't wrap your kid in enough layers to keep him warm in sub-zero conditions.  Unless, of course, you are camping in sub-zero conditions, in which case I say, You're crazy.

4) Go with friends to increase the adult-to-child ratio.  This ensures that there is always someone to hold the baby when you need to pee.

5) Just go!  It's really not as hard as you think it might be.

Hooray for Tuesday!

Oh, how I love summer!  It's wonderful to be able to go to and from work with the sun still out, and I adore the hot weather (especially since we have AC).  Best of all, it means CSA time!  Today is the first pick-up day for our CSA, and I'm super excited.  CSA stands for Community Supported Agriculture, and it works like this: we buy a share from a local farm (we get ours from Grant Family Farms) for the season, and every week we get a huge box of veggies and fruits, as well as a dozen farm-fresh eggs.  Obviously, the produce we get is seasonal, and so the contents of the box vary each week.  This week, we'll probably get a lot of lettuce, other leafy greens like kale and spinach, and some dill.

Because you never know what you're going to get, it's always a fun challenge to figure out what to make with all the veggies.  It can be overwhelming sometimes, especially when you get no fewer than four heads of lettuce each week.  Last year was the first year we participated, and we sometimes had trouble using all the veggies in a timely matter; one can only eat so much salad, you know.  But this year, we know what to expect for the most part, and I have armed myself with lots and lots of recipes that incorporate the veggies we are likely to get.

I'm also especially excited for our CSA this year because it means Chubbs will get to try a wide assortment of vegetables, and he will be another avenue to use up the copious amounts of summer squash (among other things) we will get.  This is because I make all of Chubbs's baby food; I cook a big batch of whatever veggie happens to interest me, blend it up, and then I freeze it in ice-cube trays.  The only foreseeable problem is that we will run out of freezer space.  (Hopefully we are in a new house in the near future, and we can put a big freezer out in our new garage.  So send me some good house-selling vibes.)

I will have to see what our box offers, but I think tonight we will have portobello mushroom burgers with arugula-walnut pesto, and a side salad of spinach with a lemon-garlic dressing.

If you'd like to learn more about community supported agriculture or other ways to get local produce, go to www.localharvest.org.  You can search your area for CSA's, farmers markets, farms, and restaurants using local produce.