Bump in the Night...

I was prompted to resurrect my blog after the following events unfolded last night at 11pm, 1 am, 3am, 3:45 am, etc..:

9pm: Brent heads to sleep early because he's been very sick and is leaving early in the morning for a work trip that will take him away for a week.

11pm: I decide to give up the ghost of reality TV (I mean, we won't really know what's going on with Jon and Kate until after the Monday night one-hour-special episode anyway...) As I go around turning the lights off, I realize the side door is open and one of our cats is still outside (we had to start letting them outside during the day time due to excessive bouncing off the walls, sitting on our baby's head, and kitty litter issues we won't discuss, you're welcome) As I call out "kitty, kitty" I am answered with extreme howling and the sounds of possible raccoon-on-cat mauling that chills my blood and I enter extreme 'my cat is dead' panic mode.

11:03 pm: Like a thoughtful wife, I immediately wake Brent up and started screaming that the cat has been mauled to death and we have to go save him but I'm scared of the blood and gore and he has to do it for me, I explain to the pillow he's holding tightly across his face in a feeble attempt to block me out. I tiptoe outside, BY MYSELF, and hear very faint meows coming from across the street. The cat has climbed the world's largest tree and is too terrified to come down.

11:10 pm: It's raining. It's pitch black. I drive my car across the street and turn the lights on so we can begin the process of extracting the cat from the tree. We are fearless. Brent is in flip flops and climbing the tree (which is on a slanted hill by the elementary school's playground. The cat is just beyond his reach. Brent's flip flops fall off. I offer to get his tennis shoes.

11:15pm: Brent is wielding an 11 food ladder and swinging it wildly in an attempt to land the right angle against the tree. I am being very helpful and giving direction and creative ideas for ideal ladder placement, Brent suggests I may be a person who "talks too much". A few minutes later he is gently cajoling our cat, Philly, into his arms and maneuvers his way down the ladder with the offender splayed across his back, claws dug in. I am convinced my husband is a hero who should be chronicled on local evening news: "West Linn Cat Owner Bravely Risks His Life Through Sickness and Extreme Weather to Save Pet Stuck in Huge Tree"

1 am: This is when the Cops arrive. I hear the door bell and think it's a dream. I go back to sleep. The door bell rings several time. I am convinced someone has come to murder us but is being polite enough to ring the doorbell first. I frantically wake Brent and steer him toward the door, there is no way I am opening the door myself. Outside is a baton wielding police officer who informs us a car is parked in the middle of the street with the lights on and he's wondering it it's our car, or someone trying to break into the elementary school across the street. We have no idea where the keys are so THAT search ensues, I move the car and turn the lights off. I stumble inside and search for sleep.

3am: The baby wakes up, I wake up, no problem, very routine. Back to bed.

3:45 am: The toilet is running. I open my eyes and see my hands in front of me, inside the toilet tank, unhooking a caught chain that is tangled beyond recognition. It seems to be taking a long time to fix. I'm not sure how I came to be here. I realize I have never tried to fix a toilet chain before, but I am doing it now, close to 4 am. I am determined not to wake Brent up again.

The rest of the night I have strange dreams and when I finally start my day I see that Brent is already awake, playing with Baby J. How will I make it the next seven nights without him? What if the doorbell rings?

First Giggles! (Or, Figgles: Giggles That Turn Into Frightened Crying)

My husband wants me to blog about how bad the Raiders are.

I don't want to though. I don't even watch football. Plus we have an entire drawer of Raiders onsies for baby J that I didn't order so somebody must be in a fight with their little best friend the Raiders. I'm staying out of it.

I could blog about the Swine Flu. Possible "Pandemic". I keep checking Yahoo News every 1/2 hour to see if it's reached Oregon yet.

How about the fact that cribs are in fact NOT the best place to put a sleeping child if you happen to have a pre-crawling baby who manages to wedge himself between two corners with this little arm sticking through the bars in a desperate attempt to reach freedom.

Or I could come clean and admit I don't have anything interesting, wise, funny, or shameful (see pantry post) to share but am blogging anyway because I am involved in an elaborate procrastination scheme that has taken so many twists and turns I may accidently end up doing exactly what I am avoiding: going to buy LAUNDRY SOAP so that I can continue the important task of washing clothes. Bleh.

Also, we need dishwasher soap. Bleh. Just kidding. We have a whole bin of it.

You may have already seen this on Facebook....

(Yes, I breastfeed too! Calm down!)

I took this video late at night when a hungry baby surprised me by taking matters into his own hands, literally. As he finished his 3 am bottle but was still thirsting for more, he very determinedly (is that a word?) attempted to aim, cajole, gnaw at, and shove the bottle back into his mouth. This may not seem like anything very HOLD ON NASA, FUTURE ASTRONAUT RIGHT HERE IN WEST LINN, OREGON HE'LL BE READY IN 2 DECADES OR SO..., but to me, I was witnessing my baby do something new for the very first time -- and yes that thing was to, um, hold something and shake it around. I'm sorry, but I found it more thrilling than an episode of LOST. His first attempts always happens between 2 and 4 am. (I think it's a strategy of his to keep me awake: "Mom, do NOT fall asleep, I'm about to poop GREEN for the first time!!)

You often hear parents complaining about 3 am feedings (well, you often hear me complaining about them when I call you and describe them in detail for your listening pleasure). I do deliriously look forward to a full nights sleep but I also think maybe all parents, somewhere, between tired legs hitting the floor, tired arms reaching for crying baby, and tired hands patting his little back as you fumble through the dark to find whatever it is he needs (a diaper, a bottle, an electronic nasal aspirator(!), etc...) you settle into a rocking chair, look down, fall in love all over again, and by the time a feeding is finished, you are wide awake and witnessing a new discovery: the first smile, the first time his little hand reaches up to grab your hair, the first clutching of a bottle, the first nonsensical word or sound meant only for your ears.

It's not just watching his little eyebrows jump up in surprise after he realizes he just made something happen on his very own that turns me into mush. It's that I get to witness it. How often does anyone get to witness the very firsts of a humans life? I guess mothers do, parents do, people do who get up in the wee hours of the night and bring a child into the soft light and nourish them, comfort them, love them. It's like a little secret, hidden in the hard things of parenthood that we don't always want to do, right there in the center of a moment where all we can think is, "Aren't I done yet?" that suddenly becomes "Aren't I lucky?" to be right here, right now, and holding on tight.

Why Is My Pantry Doing This To Me?

Nursery Rhymes, Cannibalism, and Awkward Exercise Poses...

*Warning: This post may contain graphic nursery rhyme lyrics.




No, I am not so hungry from my new diet that I have resorted to eating other people. For the record, I am AGAINST cannibalism. Nursery rhymes, it turns out, are not so much against cannibalism. How did I find this out? Playing my SILLY SONGS CD (thanks mom!) for my very small & impressionable 3 month old child. Two months later, I am just now recovering from what I can only describe as a complete and utter shock to my fragile mommy senses, and quite frankly, a loss of innocence. (You have to understand the glee and excitment with which I started out when I carelessly tore off the plastic wrap and shoved the brightly colored CD into my car stereo, exclaiming: "Nursery Rhymes Baby J!!! They're the best!!!!") If only childhood nostalgia actually came with memories, we wouldn't need warning lables for childrens' songs. I feel compelled to share my findings so that you too, can be properly freaked out. And let me just say: it doesn't end with cannibalism. (If only it were that simple). So sit back, relax, and soak up the following darling lyrics that we've all been singing 'night night' to our children with for the past few hundred years:

We'll start with Found A Peanut (scroll down to the 'alternative version' for the whole picture). Sounds innocent right? Child finds a peanut, eats it, turns out to be rotton, no biggie, oh but wait, child then needs an operation and THEN:

Died anyway
Died anyway
Died anyway just now
Just now I died anyway
Died anyway just now.

And THEN:

Went to heaven, went to heaven...Wouldn't take me, wouldn't take me...
Just now Heaven wouldn't take me...Went the other way, went the other way.

Well, that's nice. Very comforting. Next up, more ways to perish! Here comes The Crocodile. This tune is set to an especially cheerful tune and it's easy to whistle to as the lyrics set in:

She sailed away on a sunny summer day
On the back of a crocodile
"You see," said she, "he's as tame as tame can be,
I'll ride him down the Nile."

The croc winked his eye as she bade them all goodbye
Wearing a happy smile
At the end of the ride, the lady was inside,
And the smile was on the crocodile!

Catchy, right? Perfectly fun and normal - being eaten up by a crocodile! No problem! Now that we are warmed up - we're on to the King of the Cannibal Islands

Once again the tune is so dripped in sugar and repetition that you will find yourself humming this happily to the gas attendant as he fills up your tank and throws concerned looks toward your drooling, babbling baby in the back seat:

Hokey pokey winkey wong
Parley magoo gagoo gagong
Handaree rangaree chingaree chong
The King of the Cannibal Islands

His kingdom stretched for miles and miles
Around about the neighboring isles,
His subjects sharpened their teeth with files
Like the King of the Cannibal Islands

After a long day of teaching Baby J about Monkeys who fall off beds, Yodeling Austrians, What to do when no one likes you (Eat Worms), and Camels who turn into horses when their humps are taken away, I like to bring it down a notch and end it southern style with Short'nin' Bread.

Mama's little baby loves short'nin', short'nin',
Mama's little baby loves short'nin' bread.

Three little children, lyin' in bed
Two were sick and the other 'most dead
Sent for the doctor and the doctor said,
"Give those children some short'nin' bread.

Yeah. So, how 'bout that. Let's have a moment of silence for the DEAD CHILDREN lying in bed while the other kids get a round of short'nin bread. That's fair.

In other news, I returned to the gym after a 14 month hiatus and discovered TVs are now attached directly to the treadmills!!!!! This new development alone almost completely makes up for tragic peanut/crocodile/cannibalistic/shortnin bread death songs! But, in all honesty those sassy little songs are not bad work-out music. Heck, a combination of Arigga Bamboo & Fooba Wooba John is enough to give me the energy to attempt PRONE STRAIGHT LEG LIFT WITH PUSH UP.

Goodbye Maternity Leave. Maternity Clothes: You're Staying.

So, I am headed back to work next week. One. More. Week. That's it, then full time Mommy Duty is done. As much as I love my work (especially since it keeps me away from my couch and kitchen - two spots in the house I have gotten to know way too well over the past 4 months) I am worried about the following:

1) Who will observe Baby J's minute to minute changing facial expressions? There's more than I can count at this point, at least 18. He has 4 different takes on Confusion alone. As in: Mom, I am so confused about this, that, there, and up.

2) What if I have lost the ability to speak "Grown Up" and alienate co-workers with high pitched baby talk? "Who's little stapler is this? Is this mommy's little stapler? What sound does a stapler make? Clicky clicky clicky. Can you say clicky? Oh, who's the smartest little person standing in my cubicle about to staple my mouth shut? Clicky clicky cooooo....!"

3) How will I handle situations that involve people not wanting to peruse my digital camera to see for themselves the various expressions of my cool face making baby? For example, what if my boss doesn't think this should be on the agenda of my first day back to work check in meeting? Talk about tension, that would be really awkward.

4) All kidding aside, I don't want my little bugaboo (see, honestly I have no ability to talk normal) to sit for hours making confused faces that mean: Where is my mom? Where has she gone?

I truly believe every corny expression in the world was invented by parents. Because cliches just move in the second you bring a baby home. You think, I want to cherish every moment. I don't even use words like cherish. Well I do now, obviously.

I know this transition is going to be tough, especially at first. But I look forward to the times he will be able to tag along with me to various work events and have an understanding of what I do everyday when I leave him. He'll learn that he's been a part of my work before he was even born, when he was just a hope in my heart and a birthday wish as I blew out the candles, he was an inspiration to me to be someone that my children could be proud of. I want him to know I am taking time away from him for a few hours everyday (or even a lot of hours) because I am not only helping to put food on our table, I am also trying to dedicate my life to be in service to others, because I believe we have a responsibility to look out for one another, and to stand up and be counted not just for the big things in life, but everyday little by little we have to show up and say "I'm here, I'm ready to do my part". Because that's what my work is to me. That's what the Union means to me. It's my second family, and I love that J will be a part of that family too. One day I'll show him photo albums and say, "Look, you were in Mom's tummy then, you were with me when we worked to protect health care for kids" or "Here's you, a few months old, at the State Capital with me while we talked to State Senators" And as he grows older, he'll know exactly where I am when I'm not with him, I'm out there making a path for him - just like so many parents do, each in their own way.

For now, I'm going to savor, inhale, enjoy, extend, and cherish every single moment with him that I possibly can. I mean, just look at him:



PS -- I haven't written a post in awhile because I have not been able to upload video (I don't know how is the explanation for that) so I'm afraid of angry hate mail regarding my lack of Superman video I promised. I know, I know, I live in an imaginary world where people are obsessed with my blog and baby. This is not actually true but in any case, it's my rationale for not posting. Someday I will figure out how to upload video and then we can all sit back, sigh, and enjoy life, finally.