Crap nap wrap

Oh my holy hell. For the first time in two years Jack did not take a nap today. Instead, he sat in his crib and talked and sang. For two hours. Without sleeping. Did I mention there was no sleeping?

I went up there a few times to tell him to Go. To. Sleep. And I changed a poopy diaper. But he refused to relent to the sandman.

The Gods of Stay At Home Motherdom shined upon me, however, because Josh was working from home this afternoon and Grandma was here, so I was able to escape and let her deal with the no-nap boy.

I left for a jaunt downtown to pick up Emmie's birth certificate at the 90-minute mark with instructions to get him up at two hours if there was no improvement. When I came home, there he was, sitting on the couch like it was a regular old afternoon.

By the end of dinner, he was showing the signs of impending meltdown. He threw himself on the floor at the restaurant as we were leaving because he wanted to put his coat on while standing on the floor instead of standing on the high chair, like he usually does. We were lucky to escape with our lives in that one.

After we got home there was a quick bath and he had a vacant look on his face as I read him "Goodnight Moon" and that ended the day. He was awake for 12 hours before he crashed hard, almost immediately after we put him to bed. And that never happens.

This is SO not allowed. Mommy needs nap time for things like eating lunch and blogging and you know, sanity. Jack needs nap time for things like growing brain cells. Not taking a nap is not an option in this house. Especially not with two children.

What might piss me off more than the actual act of not napping is the idea of not napping. Like I was this smug little mother, secure in the fact my child sleeps well. He goes to bed at 8:30 p.m. and he sleeps until 8:30 a.m. and he takes a two-hour, sometimes three-hour, nap. I haven't had sleep issues with this kid in forever. So of course it came back to bite me in the ass. Rule No. 1 of parenting: just when you're feeling smug, you will get the smackdown.

I am pretending this didn't happen and it's an anomoly. Repeat after me: there will be more naps, there will be more naps, there will be more naps.

Six weeks

Hi everyone!

Film at 11

Josh and I try to see each one of the five Oscar-nominated films every year. I am proud to say that despite having a 2-year-old and giving birth six weeks ago, we did meet the goal again this year. My friend, Heather, also blogged about seeing all the films this year, inspiring me to share as well.

We got the last ones in just under the wire this weekend. Josh went out to a nice steak dinner with his friends on Friday night (what a bitch he is!) and I stayed home and watched "Michael Clayton" on On Demand.

Saturday afternoon we dumped the children at my parents' house and went to the theater to see "There Will Be Blood."

We had seen "Atonement" on my birthday, right after Emmie was born, and saw "Juno" the day after Christmas. I endured "No Country For Old Men" sometime in November with Josh, as I recall.

I say endured because I was not a fan. Yeah yeah, I know all the symbolism and blah blah blah. But I just didn't like it.

We both liked "Juno," but it wasn't really a Best Picture in my mind. Don't get me wrong, awesome flick and wicked funny. But just not on the level of the others. Josh disagreed, saying it was his favorite of the five.

I liked "Atonement," but Josh thought it was too predictable. He saw "Michael Clayton" in the theater a few months ago and really liked it; I thought it was good, but there was a lot lacking. (Like why would the main female character order two hits when she seemed to unsure of herself? Why would he call his brother Timmy when it was a critical situation -- in real life Timmy would have let him down. It just didn't add up for me.)

That brings me to my favorite, "There Will Be Blood." I was a HUGE fan. Blew me away. And I thought it blew "No Country" out of the water. I found it ironic, since that was the one movie I didn't really want to see. I knew I would have to see it though, so I went. So glad I did.

So there you have it, my very own unofficial Oscar voting. Care to share yours?

Feeling hot, hot, hot

Back when I was still pregnant, I decided I wanted to use a sling with this baby. There were many reasons, among them that I just thought slings were so cute (!), but the biggest was for the hands-free nursing aspect.

I knew with a toddler in tow, I would need to be able to play with him or feed him or hoist my glass of wine and there was no way I would be able to do that while nursing. Although when it comes to the wine, I assure you I would find a way.

So I went to an awesome nursing/maternity/baby store (Be By Baby, if you're local, in Roscoe Village) and they were great and had all different kinds of slings to try on and my mom and I hung out there for a while and got the speeches on how they all worked and the yada yada on pros and cons and whatnot. At the end, I told the clerk I was looking for a sling I could use strictly for nursing, since we already had a Baby Bjorn for our general baby-carrying needs.

She immediately and without hesitation said to go with the Hotsling. I was sold, since it was $30 cheaper than the Ring Sling, and away I went with directions on how to use it.

Enter Emmie five weeks ago. Since then, I have not successfully nursed in that damn sling a single time. I don't think it's too tight, because it works just dandy for carrying her around. She loves it -- goes right to sleep when I stick her in it -- and I really like how easy it is to put her in there and feed Jack. Inevitably, both children wind up eating at the same times and I really don't want Jack throwing his green beans on Emmie's head and I'm not sure staring at my boob is the most appetizing dinner view for him either. So I really need this sling thing to work.

But it's like she's not at the right level or the right angle or the right zip code. I suspect she's too low, since it's like a hammock, but I have no idea. I give up.

So I turn to you, my readers, oh great knowers of all things. Have you successfully nursed in the Hotsling? And if so, could you maybe diagram the positioning or send me a video or perhaps a stick-figure drawing? A step-by-step written tutorial would be great as well. And while you might not have any experience with this, maybe a friend does? And you could ask them? Or direct them here?

I am desperate and the husband is adamant I not spend a single cent on more baby crap, and he doesn't care about poor little me trying to feed Emmie and Jack and it being so very very HARD. He told me to find a way to make it happen with the sling I already have. So there you go. Help a sister out won't ya?

Big girl

Emmie had her one-month doctor appointment this week and my, weren't we all surprised at the results.

I told her pediatrician about the profuse vomiting on consecutive nights and he said he wasn't concerned about it, yet, but that if it continued, he wanted to know about it. He also said that at this age, babies are supposed to gain an average of some ounce number I can't for the life of me remember, but that at five weeks, she should have weighed a minimum of 7lbs 14oz, based on her birth weight of 6lbs 8oz.

He slid her onto the scale and as he did, I said I was guessing she was about 8lbs 4 oz. He said he hates to guess, so he was taking a pass on that.

"But she isn't 7lbs 14oz and she isn't 8lbs 4oz either," he said. "She's 8lbs 14oz."

That's right folks, my child is a 9-pounder at one month. Jack, who was a few ounces heavier at birth, was a mere 7lbs 4oz at his one-month check. So my previously petite gal is ginormous. She's also 22 1/4 inches tall, which puts her in the 90th percentile and makes me think she's getting the tall genes like the rest of this family, minus her mother.

The doctor also thought she still looked a little yellow, so he ordered a blood test for possible jaundice. When the nurse came in with the paperwork, she said we needed to go over to the Children's Hospital lab.

"But don't let anyone touch her or for that matter, don't you touch anything either," she cautioned. "The flu is running rampant over there and that's the last thing you need."

Greeeeeeaaaaaat.

After donning full hazmat gear before entering the lobby, I headed down to the lab. I am not joking when I say I didn't even touch the elevator button with my bare hand. When the lab lady asked me to fill out a form, I asked for a new pen because I was scared of the one laying on the counter that 7,000 germy people probably licked that day. I didn't even want to sit down in the chairs, lest I catch the flu through my coat and my jeans via my ass. Hey, it could happen.

So the nice lab tech calls us in and ooohs and ahhs over my new baby. She then busts out a needle and tells me she needs to see Emmie's arm. What the hell happened to a heel stick for infants? Apparently, not so much. She said they like to have enough to re-run the test if they have to. Mmmkay.

Stick number one results in a shriek from Emmie and a decent amount of blood flowing through the tube ... which stops abruptly. Her little vein collapsed. After moving the needle around in her vein, the tech decided to try another one. Stick number two results in a second shriek from Emmie and a pissed off look from Mommy. Also a second collapsed vein.

At this point I am getting annoyed and thinking that at a CHILDREN'S hospital they would be adept at drawing blood from CHILDREN and would know what works on a five-week old. Finally, she resorts to a heel stick. Couldn't we just have started there in the first place? Emmie shrieks again, but then immediately falls asleep and chills the heck out. Five minutes later, we're out the door.

In the end, her levels were totally normal and she is not officially jaundiced. Maybe yellow is the new black for baby skin? I dunno.

Alone, all alone

Monday, my dear sweet husband returned to work. Two hours away. Overnight. And left me alone with the two children.

To say I was apprehensive was putting it a little mildly. I knew in my head I could -- had -- to do it. But I was still scared. How would I ever get everyone up and fed and out of the house? How would I keep Jack from destroying things while I was chained to the couch, feeding Emmie? How would I find time to surf the Internet for celebrity gossip for God's sake? We have to have some priorities here.

I am proud to report that things went better than I expected. Although when you keep your expectations ridiculously low, you really can't have things go badly now can you?

Josh kissed Emmie and I goodbye at the ungodly hour of 7 a.m. and Jack woke me up again around 8:30. Of course Emmie woke up right then and needed a boob, so he had to wait in his crib for a few minutes. But I somehow got him up and fed and got her up and fed and then I had to take a shower myself, which I did with the help of a video! No, not a how-to video. A Spanish language video for Jack. He watched that and didn't move a muscle and I put Emmie in the swing upstairs and somehow got myself and her ready. Then I got Mr. Jackson dressed and we were all out the door and at his music class right on time. Score one for Mommy!

Since we were already out, I decided to return something to Target and then run to Babies R Us. A little aggressive for our first day alone, you might be thinking. But I had to do it sometime, so I forged ahead.

Thinking we would only be a second in Target at customer service, I did not grab a cart. It was two feet from the entrance and there was a nice bench for Jack to sit on. But of course he did not want to sit. He wanted to stand in front of the sliding doors and make them open and shut. And open and shut. And FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP MAKING THE DOOR OPEN AND SHUT AND HOLD MOMMY'S HAND. Which prompted him to become a noodle and fall writhing to the floor. A woman and her adult daughter actually laughed at me. Thanks, I needed that. I waited for him to get a handle on himself and tried to pretend like I didn't care and wasn't paying attention and he did eventually get up and walk out to the car.

At Babies R Us, I learned my lesson and took a cart. After wandering around for a few minutes, Emmie notified me that she needed to eat. She did not, alas, send a registered letter. Instead she shrieked at the top of her lungs. So I wheeled them over to the mother's room so I could feed her. Jack thought the mother's room was awesome because there were two changing tables with stacks of diapers he could take down and throw at me. Thanks, buddy! But I don't need them right now.

After bribing him away from the non-babyproofed electrical outlet with a bag of Cheerios, I had a some relative peace. Of course said Cheerios were falling on the floor with alarming frequency, so he just decided to eat them off the floor. Since I was playing zone defense, I decided to just let him be. A little dirt and road salt and dust never hurt anyone did it?

After feeding Emmie and finally shopping and checking out, it was time to head home for lunch and a much-needed nap. For everyone. But first, I had to get them in the car. I dropped Emmie's seat into the base on the driver's side and came around to put Jack in his seat. Because it was 90,000 degrees below zero wind chill, I lifted him into the car to expedite the process. Which caused "Toddler Freakout 2008: Now With More Cowbell" to ensue. He's arching his back and sliding out of his car seat and sobbing big fat tears and I am trying to shove him back up and get the straps secured, but of course I am standing outside in the freezing cold and getting increasingly more pissed. I actually told my toddler, "I am NEVER taking you ANYWHERE again. Get in your seat NOW!" Which you know, worked really well. Not.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with a playdate with two friends and dinner prep, the eating of dinner and bathtime and then just as I thought it would quiet down, Emmie decided she was going to be awake with Mommy for a few hours. Which was awesome, because we never really get to spend quality one-on-one time with her when Jack is playing with us. But also meant I had to eat my dinner with a plate perched above her head while she was eating.

It was finally bedtime for Mommy and just when I thought things were calm, Emmie puked all over me, herself and my bed. All over the sheets, the down feather bed, my pajamas and her pajamas. That would be the second night in row, for those scoring at home, that I have been puked upon by my infant. So I change her, change myself, strip the whole bed, throw the feather bed in the hallway to dry, start laundry and finally fall back into bed -- a hard uncomfortable bed sans feathers -- at midnight.

And that my friends, sums up the first day of Parenting v2.0.

But here was the face I was looking at. How can you be mad about puke with this face?

Baptism by bodily fluid

In the two years I have been a mother, I have been pretty smug in the fact my child has never puked. I can count on one hand the number of times Jack spit up during his entire life, and none of them were anything bigger than a dribble.

Sure, I've been peed on. I've been the unfortunate victim of projectile poop explosions. But vomit had never touched these parts.

And oh how the mighty have fallen.

Last night, Emmie was a little fussy around 8 p.m. No biggie, I just stuck a boob in her face and all was well. Then she was fussing again around 8:45, so I fed her again. Well apparently, her eyes were a little bigger than her month-old stomach. Because I heard an odd gurgle from her while she was eating and a nanosecond later, I look down to see her just puke her shit alllllllll over.

I am not exaggerating when I tell you she probably threw up a good six ounces of milk. All over herself. All over me. All over the boppy. All over the couch. It even got on some of the clean laundry I had just folded and was in a pile next to me.
Emmie just looked up at me like, "What the hell just happened?" and I sat there in horror.

To say I was stunned was an understatement. I have never witnessed such an event, much less been the recipient of one. Josh took Emmie and git her cleaned up and I just stripped off my sweatshirt and jeans and put them straight into the laundry, along with everything else.

As someone who is totally skeeved out by puke, I think I did pretty well with it. Granted, it was undigested breastmilk. So it wasn't chunks of food or tropical-punch colored liquor (not that I would know anything about that). Just some non-noxious white liquid.

An hour later, she was looking for more. I fed her, fighting the urge to cover myself with a tarp, without incident. All the breastfeeding books -- you know the ones that tell you pacifiers are the tools of the devil -- say if baby is fussy, you should put her to the breast. Well now I am petrified that she'll eat too much and puke all over me again. I offered her a pacifier for the first time after all this and she wouldn't entertain the idea and refused to put it in her mouth.

So I guess the boobs will have to suffice and I will make it clear bulimia is not a way to maintain her girlish figure.

Emmie: One month

Dear Emmie,

Today you are one month old, sweet little girl! The last month has passed in kind of a blur for me, but in a good way. You have made things so easy for us that I almost feel guilty about getting enough sleep and generally feeling really good about things.


Emmie, one month old

You came into this world on your own terms last month. I was supposed to be induced, but you had other plans for your birth when my water broke 12 days early. You took your sweet time making up your mind about coming out, but once you did, it was in a hurry. I didn't even have to push -- I almost laughed you right out at one point and the nurses and doctors said it was their first birth where there was no pushing. I should have known then that you were pretty easygoing.



Even when you were inside me, there wasn't any jumping around or frantic movements, you were more the type to just stretch or give a few small kicks every now and then, so I would remember you were there. The you that exists outside the womb is just about the same.

Being a second-time mom, I am a lot more laidback with you. I know you will eat when you're hungry, so I don't obsess about your feedings. From the first day, you have gone an average of four hours between feedings. Some people think that's too long for a breastfed baby, but you are gaining weight and looking bigger every day, so I think you're just fine.



You also are a baby after our own hearts. You like your sleep and you have pretty much slept six-hour stretches overnight from the time you came home. The first couple of nights were a little frightening, as you would only sleep when you were being held. If someone had you in their arms, we wouldn't hear a peep. But try to put you down and holy screaming Batman. But after a few days we started to be able to put you down in the pack and play and we discovered you would sleep between us in our bed. You eschew the bassinette, the very nice bassinette Grandma and Grandpa bought especially for you, but we have gotten you to sleep a couple hours here and there in it, so I have hopes we can get you in there yet.

Your relationship with your big brother, Jack, is exactly how we thought it would be. We brought you home, he smiled and within two hours he had walloped you on the noggin and then set about ignoring you. But over the last month, he's gotten better with you and now he kisses you and hugs you and tries to poke you in the eye, but in the most loving way possible. But whenever he's around, in one of the three hours you are actually awake, you watch him and tend to turn your head toward the sound of his voice.



It's been strange to see all this pink in our house. It looked like a bottle of Pepto exploded in your closet for awhile, but we're getting used to all the pastels. It's been fun dressing you in your little outfits and we even put you in a dress for your brother's birthday party.

Before you were born, I had this closet full of pink things and I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact I was going to have a little girl. But here you are and I could not be more in love. You are so sweet and so pretty. I am so excited for you to start smiling, because the sleep-smiles with those dimples you have been flashing us are stunning. The real deal is going to be so cute, I can't stand it. Like your brother, you look nothing like I imagined you. Your blue eyes and blond fuzzy hair and chubby cheeks and long skinny legs are so different from how I thought you would be. I think you look like Daddy, but we'll see how things shake out over the next few years.



It's amazing to have you, our little girl, here in our family. You complete us. A matched set: two boys and two girls. When I look at your sweet face, I see the future. I see you running and skipping and squealing. I see pigtails and sundresses and hopscotch. I see flirting and dances and phone calls from boys. You have been a joy to have around this last month. It's true what they say about having a second child; your heart does expand with an equal amount of love. And mine is almost bursting from the love I have for you and your brother and your Daddy.



Love,
Mommy

Will You Be Our Valentine?

Another day, another picture.

Happy Valentine's day everyone!

Here, look at my baby!

I am too harried to post anything of substance. So here! Look at my kid! She's four weeks old today!

No baby

This morning I was multitasking by nursing Emmie and reading a book to Jack. Well, I was multitasking until he decided he wanted my undivided attention so he walloped her on the head. Which caused her to startle -- I mean who expects to take a whack to the head when she's minding her own business eating -- and pull off. Which of course resulted in an aborted feeding session and an angry Mommy.

After telling him for what feels like the 4,751st time in the last three weeks that we DO NOT HIT PEOPLE because it hurts them and it makes them sad, he laughed and ran into the kitchen. I was attempting to get Emmie to finish feeding and was watching him through the opening in our two-sided fireplace. Which as an aside, let me tell you, was a great idea because we can see him from almost any place in the living room.

Anyway. He's sitting on the floor on the other side of the fireplace and I can see he's reading a book, but I can't tell which one it is. Suddenly, I realize he is hitting the book and then I hear him saying, "No! Baby! No! Baby!" and every time he hits it he says "No! Baby!"

I get up to investigate and sure as shit, he's hitting a page in one of his books that has pictures of him as a wee baby.

So now he's an anti-babyite. I have no idea what to do with this one.

Jack: Two Years

Dear Jack,

Today you turn 2 years old and that simply does not seem possible. I look at your little face and I remember the day you were born and how you looked like it was yesterday. But this has been a year of changes and accomplishments for you and when I look back over the last 365 days, it feels like much more than a year has gone by.



Last year at this time, you weren't even walking fulltime. But now you walk and run and jump and climb and tumble and somersault and march and stomp. There are moments where I watch you run through the kitchen from the living room and I just laugh because you are so cute. You could spend hours running around the island in the kitchen, playing "Boo" with someone. The sound of your hysterical laughter when the person chasing you yells boo is priceless; you are genuinely surprised each and every time that the person has found you.

While I would have predicted you would have taken after Mommy and been chattering away in full sentences by now, your language skills are developing at their own pace. You communicate with us pretty effectively and you are trying to say new words all the time, but you tend to favor one-syllable words or shorten longer words into what I call Jack Shorthand. I think you are just talking on your own schedule, in your own way. But you are such a smart little boy. You know all your letters by sight and can point to them when we ask. You also know all your body parts and can make pretty much any animal sound. You can help us "read" your books because you memorized them all and can help us finish lines.



One of the words you have shortened is "baby," which you have shortened to "Bee." And this was certainly the year of the Bee in our house. You became a big brother three weeks ago and it was definitely the biggest change for you yet. We knew it would be hard for you -- you were used to being the center of the universe for everyone on both sides of our family. Suddenly, there was someone else to share the spotlight with. But you have manned up and handled things as well as you know how. There have been some bumps in the road (and on Emmie's head) but you light up when you smile at Emmie and you have had some great moments where you kiss her or touch her foot or poke her in the eye. I am so excited to see your relationship with her grow as you both grow together.



I was scared your relationship with me was going to change this summer because I wasn't able to lift you or take care of you by myself for five months. But things turned out fine and in the end, I think it made you even more independent. You had to learn how to climb into your own highchair and carseat and stroller and you were so good about walking next to me and holding my hand instead of being carried. There were some times early on this summer when I had to lie on the couch and fight the feeling of deathly awful morning sickness, and you were so good about just reading books or playing legos instead of running around at the park.

With a Mommy who was slightly out of commission, you and Daddy became great buddies. He took you to the park and built lego towers and took you to swim lessons and made you oatmeal and chicken nuggets and changed your diapers and put you down for naps and generally was Super Dad. I think my being restricted was a good thing because you came to rely on Daddy just as much as Mommy. There were a few months there where Daddy was traveling four days a week and you really missed him. But you got to talk to him on the phone every night and made up for the missed time on the weekends.



After splitting time between Chicago and Bloomington for all of your first year, we started staying in Chicago permanantly in April. That meant we started taking more classes and doing more things here in the city, and made some new friends along the way. It's been great for both you and I to meet new people and learn new things at Wiggleworms and Bubbles and Gymboree. We tried library storytime a few times, but you were just not that into it, so I didn't push the issue. We spent hundreds of hours at the playground and sprinkler park, we went to the zoo once a week and there were countless walks around the neighborhood to just get out of the house.



You also became an official world traveler, stamping your new passport in England and France. With Uncle Thabu playing in the Rugby World Cup, the whole family made the trip to watch him play. Daddy and I were so nervous about the trip but you did awesome. You slept incredibly well and for being so out of your element and schedule and routine, you were a great traveler. In addition to going across the pond, you took trips with both families to different lakes in Wisconsin where you swam and played in the sand and went out on the boat.



You have also have definite opinions when it comes to food. Your favorite food to talk about, and eat, is cheese. Grilled cheese, mac and cheese, quesadillas -- you love them all. You do enjoy applesauce and you occasionally eat some canteloupe or watermelon, but mostly you just suck out the flavor and spit it out. You recently started liking blueberries and you love freeze-dried strawberries but unfortunately have a hideous eczema flareup when you eat them, so they are a rare treat. You do really like vegetables, but only in the pureed form. We figure it's better you eat them than not eat them, so we indulge you. But most of all, you love your "guk" which is what you call milk.

One of the things we are most excited about is your great start with potty training. One New Year's Day you decided it was time to pee on the potty and you have gone at least once every day since then. You've slowly worked your way up to going three times a day and you are so proud and excited about your progress. You beg us to "peeeeeee" and then watch intently like you are willing it to happen. When you're done, you stand up and clap and say "yayyyyy!" and it's a huge deal every time. We aren't pushing you by any means, but you have certainly taken an interest in it.

Your personality has emerged so much more this year. You are sweet and concerned about others around you. You tend to hang back a little in new surroundings or situations, taking it all in before deciding what to do. You are much more like Daddy in that respect, you think before you act, which is a good quality to have. You almost always have a smile on your face and you rarely have a crabby day; when you do, it either means you are sick or teething. You love animals and we're so sorry you are allergic to them because they bring you such joy.



But it's you that brings us such joy each and every day. You teach both Daddy and I so much more than we could ever teach you. Hearing your little voice say "Hi" or "Bye" and seeing you do things like fill countless bags with little toys and carry them around or run around with a hat over your eyes laughing or hiding in the cabinet where you think we can't see you or clapping and saying "yay" after you sit on the potty (even when you don't actually pee) or how proud you are when you get into your own carseat while Mommy opens the gate in the back of the house -- these are all everyday things that make every day extraordinary.



We love you so much and love the person you are becoming. I am proud when people tell me how cute you are and ask if I am your Mommy. This next year will bring so many more changes and I know you will learn so much and do so many new things. I can't wait to see how you change this year, but for now, I just want to revel in you being 2.


Love,
Mommy

Death of a turtle

It's a sad day in our house. Jack and his beloved crib soother, Turtle, have parted ways.

"It't not me, it's you," I think I heard Jack say. Turtle replied by pulling his head into his shell and refusing to play music anymore. I may have shed a tear.

Turtle, the crib soother by the nice Baby Einstein people, has been with us since Jack was about nine months old. He was so well-loved we took him with us whenever we traveled and we had one at each Grandma's house for sleeping there.


Our beloved Turtle

Turtle was good to us. Jack knew how to reach up and make him play the music and lights and it helped him fall asleep at night and soothed him back to sleep in the middle of the night and the early morning as well. Many a night I woke to hear a bang, followed by the strains of classical music on the monitor and gave thanks that Turtle was there so Mommy didn't have to stumble in there and help him get back to sleep.

But about five months ago, Jack learned how to flip the switch so Turtle would play continuously for 10 minutes. He had to stand or sit up to reach the switch correctly and there were nights we heard Turtle playing nonstop for 90 minutes after we put him to bed. That meant a certain little someone was sitting or standing up every 10 minutes to make this happen. It also meant someone was falling asleep verrrrrry late. But he never cried and generally amused himself in there so we let it go.

But we knew it had to end.

This week, I noticed Jack didn't play Turtle at all one night when he went to bed. I was stunned, but figured maybe he was really, really tired and went right to sleep. I checked on him about 15 minutes after he went to bed, and there were two little eyes staring at me when I opened, and quickly shut, the door. Hmm, that's weird, I thought.

Next morning, he slept in longer than he had been lately. After concluding he wasn't asphyxiated in his sleep when he did finally wake up at 8:30 a.m., I went in and he was pointing to Turtle with a concerned look on his face. I pushed the buttons and nothing happened. I pushed harder, and a weak strain of melody poured out.

A-ha! Batteries are running low! I am a quick one, aren't I?

But thinking he had done so well without Turtle, we elected not to put fresh batteries in. Each night since, he has fallen asleep quietly and relatively quickly and this morning, he slept until 8:45. Unprecented behavior for a non-sick Jack.

So Turtle hangs in the crib, silent for this world. Jack points to him every time we come into the room, as if to say, "It's so over. Why is he still here?"

Rest in peace, Turtle. We'll miss you.

Not a good day

Number of times Jack smacked Emmie: 4 (all within 10 minutes)

Number of times Jack hit Emmie with a broom: 1 (he reached over the pack-n-play to poke her, right in the eye too)

Number of times Jack hit Daddy: 1 (during dinner, with a spoon; dinner ended quickly thereafter)

Number of times Jack dropped a lamp on Mommy: 1 (before naptime, on the head)

Number of times Mommy lost her shit with Daddy today: Too many to count (SERIOUSLY)

Number of keys Jack pulled off Daddy's brand-new laptop: 2 (of course, Mommy's fault, see above)

Number of times Emmie cried and insisted on being held: 27 (approximately every time we tried to put her down)

Number of inches of slush and snow Mommy shoveled: 3 (it was early on during the storm)

Number of beers Mommy consumed at the end of the day: 1 (and it should have been more)

Super Tuesday

Sorry about the brief hiatus there. Time just got away from me and then before I knew it, I hadn't blogged for a few days and then I was feeling guilty and so here I am!

Today is our first day with no help from the families, and it feels pretty good. Josh is back to work (at home) three days a week these next two weeks, so today he was able to get up with Jack so Emmie and I could sleep in a little. That would be after we were awake for an hour at 5 a.m. It's really dark at 5 a.m. Did you know that? And quiet. Too quiet to turn the TV on and have something to do while the child eats because it would disturb my husband's precious precious rest which can't be interrupted by the drop of a pin or he will wake up and not be able to get back to sleep. (This is the same husband who has learned to sleep through a child's whining on the monitor and can now sleep with the table lamp on next to him. But I digress.)

But the four of us got our acts together and left the house and went to vote this afternoon and then stopped at Jack's favorite restaurant, Chipotle, for a post-vote lunch. Emmie had the chips and salsa. She likes it spicy.

Since we vote at a firehouse, Jack was excited to see the big trucks and I showed him the firefighters' boots and coats and he was generally amused by the whole thing. We had prepared him before we left, and we asked him where we were going and he said, "Boat!" Yes, we're going to vote. Close enough. "Who are you voting for?" we asked. "O-Mama!" Again, close enough.

So y'all should get out there and do your civic duty if your state has elections today. And remember, Boat 0-Mama!