We had, B"H, a lovely lovely Pesach--possibly our nicest ever, but I think I've been saying that every year for the last five.
More bulletins soon, but right now, it is time to bring out the boxes and put away the Pesach--a little sadly. But there is the knowledge of Cheerios tomorrow morning to console me. And I can also look forward to taking the boys on a surprise doughnut run tomorrow afternoon. Just one of the many reasons I love being a mother--the power to occasionally shock little boys' lights out by buying them doughnuts for no obvious reason other than that I can.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Who knows ten?
Every day I think of some little thing or another that I want to blog. But I've just been too busy to sit down. So, here are a few scattered things for your time-wasting pleasure:
1. Today was my first day back at work. The amount of stuff I have to do is unreal.
2. Avtalyon is smiling now, big lopsided grins that melt the heart into puddles of motherly goo. I'm not sure how much he weighs exactly, but he has doubled his weight from a couple of months ago. An impressive achievement, although not one I'm aspiring to personally.
3. Barak, even before he could talk, monologued--in his high chair, in bed, to his trucks, wherever. He still does it, talking to himself in this conversational tone, sometimes to our intense amusement. Tonight, I ran out to run and errand with Avtalyon, and MHH fielded bedtime. When I got home, he reported this monologue of Barak's, overheard post-bedtime.
"Superman... Superman's a billion cool. Spiderman is ten cool. Batman's five cool." MHH is not sure why Batman is so much less cool than Superman, but says he got the impression that even being five cool was something. Of course, Barak also thinks Superman has horns, so he might have him mixed up with Batman, of the pointy bat ears. But Superman, as we all know, helps people. That might be it.
4. Yesterday we went on a chol ha'moed outing--to take the bus, which is the fun part for Barak and Iyyar, to go to the picture place and outdoor play area at the mall. We never go to the mall. Ever. Malls make me itch. I hate shopping, hate the music, hate the acquisitiveness and consumerism and gashmius, and MHH hates them even more, especially in summer when not everyone is dressed. But we haven't had a family picture since Barak was ten weeks old, and I really wanted one, so we went. I'm so glad we did. I love the picture we got with all of us. It makes me happy every time I glance in its direction. Okay, so I look fat, MHH looks grumpy, the kids are clearly bouncing off the wall--but we look like a family.
5. I haven't knitted a thing in ages. I haven't had much in the way of time, obviously, what with the new baby and Pesach and the rest of our usual routine, but I haven't had much of a taiva to do it either, which is unusual for me. But probably just as well.
6. Avtalyon is three months tomorrow. Barak's fourth English birthday was yesterday. And the potty regression continues. Nuff said.
7. Barak got a Pesach tape at school. In this tape, his morah sang all the songs of the seder, with admonitions not to "play this tape where there are big men or boys over thirteen." The point is to play it over and over, so that by seder time the kids know the songs.
Now I know that I send my kid to a chareidi playgroup. Why? She did ma nishtana in Hebrew, English and Yiddish. Seriously. Now I can say "all kinds of vegetables" in Yiddish, and I'm sure that will come in handy someday.
8. There were two makkos songs on the tape. Barak, like all little boys, LOVES the makkos, and the whole idea of it. He sings one of the makkos songs, gleefully, often, sometimes on the toilet, in a fierce and ruthless growl. "The mitzrim were PUNISHED, again and again!" The other makkos song, of course, teaches what the ten makkos were, and if you're Jewish you probably know it. It is a rollicking tune that helps you remember that they were "Dam, tzvardaya, kinim, arov, dever..." etc.
Got all that? Good. So, last week our non-Jewish babysitter was here while the tape was playing. We love our babysitter, and I thinks she likes us, even though she probably occasionally thinks we're deranged (and may be right.) Then we got to the makkos song. She couldn't help but notice that Barak was singing this one particularly... lustily. "What's that song?"
Without even thinking, I started to sing it, to that cheery bouncy tune, translating it into English as I went. "Blood and frogs and lice, wild beasts and pestilence, boils hail locusts darkness, the slaying of the firstborn!" I think she was mildly horrified.
9. It looks as though, B"H, MHH has a job for next year. This has been in doubt for about the last year and a half and has been weighing on us fairly heavily. His school had to inform him in writing by April 15 if he was being cut; they did not, although they also did not inform him that they were keeping him. So we had this weird day in which we were constantly calling each other. "Did anyone call? No. Did anyone call you? No. Is your cell phone on? Yeah. Nobody called. Was there anything in your mailbox? No. Did you check my email? Yep, nothing there. Okay, it's 11:30, and nothing yet..." This went on until about 11 PM, when we looked at each other and finally exhaled. Sort of, because, you know, nothing had really been confirmed in either direction. That was Tuesday. He had also applied to another job, in a local kollel, that he really wanted more but didn't think he would get. Less than an hour and a half before licht, his phone beeped, and there was a message on it saying "we're looking forward to welcoming you to the kollel..." They have not yet talked tachlis, so there is no actual job offer on paper, but so far appears that he even has options.
And it also appears that I might shortly become a kollel wife. The mind reels.
10. Grandma E and Grandpa M were here last week, in Grandpa M's great big truck. We went on sort of a pre-Pesach chol ha'moed outing on the Thursday before Pesach. I thought I would pack us a lovely picnic lunch for a last chance at some chometz. I had paper plates, knives, forks, napkins etc. in the bag I'd packed for the day, and had deli, mustard, mayonnaise, cucumbers, and juice boxes in a tied-up bag in the fridge. The ruggelach and rolls for sandwiches were in separate bags in the freezer. When it was time to go, I grabbed two of the three bags, leaving the rolls for the sandwiches behind. So we ended up eating meat with our fingers for lunch. Sigh.
The boys didn't seem to mind eating straight bologna for lunch, though, and had a fine time riding in the truck, climbing on farm equipment, etc. Inexplicably, we were the only Jewish family in the children's museum the day before the three-day yom tov that Pesach came in on. Weird, huh? I wonder where everyone else was.
1. Today was my first day back at work. The amount of stuff I have to do is unreal.
2. Avtalyon is smiling now, big lopsided grins that melt the heart into puddles of motherly goo. I'm not sure how much he weighs exactly, but he has doubled his weight from a couple of months ago. An impressive achievement, although not one I'm aspiring to personally.
3. Barak, even before he could talk, monologued--in his high chair, in bed, to his trucks, wherever. He still does it, talking to himself in this conversational tone, sometimes to our intense amusement. Tonight, I ran out to run and errand with Avtalyon, and MHH fielded bedtime. When I got home, he reported this monologue of Barak's, overheard post-bedtime.
"Superman... Superman's a billion cool. Spiderman is ten cool. Batman's five cool." MHH is not sure why Batman is so much less cool than Superman, but says he got the impression that even being five cool was something. Of course, Barak also thinks Superman has horns, so he might have him mixed up with Batman, of the pointy bat ears. But Superman, as we all know, helps people. That might be it.
4. Yesterday we went on a chol ha'moed outing--to take the bus, which is the fun part for Barak and Iyyar, to go to the picture place and outdoor play area at the mall. We never go to the mall. Ever. Malls make me itch. I hate shopping, hate the music, hate the acquisitiveness and consumerism and gashmius, and MHH hates them even more, especially in summer when not everyone is dressed. But we haven't had a family picture since Barak was ten weeks old, and I really wanted one, so we went. I'm so glad we did. I love the picture we got with all of us. It makes me happy every time I glance in its direction. Okay, so I look fat, MHH looks grumpy, the kids are clearly bouncing off the wall--but we look like a family.
5. I haven't knitted a thing in ages. I haven't had much in the way of time, obviously, what with the new baby and Pesach and the rest of our usual routine, but I haven't had much of a taiva to do it either, which is unusual for me. But probably just as well.
6. Avtalyon is three months tomorrow. Barak's fourth English birthday was yesterday. And the potty regression continues. Nuff said.
7. Barak got a Pesach tape at school. In this tape, his morah sang all the songs of the seder, with admonitions not to "play this tape where there are big men or boys over thirteen." The point is to play it over and over, so that by seder time the kids know the songs.
Now I know that I send my kid to a chareidi playgroup. Why? She did ma nishtana in Hebrew, English and Yiddish. Seriously. Now I can say "all kinds of vegetables" in Yiddish, and I'm sure that will come in handy someday.
8. There were two makkos songs on the tape. Barak, like all little boys, LOVES the makkos, and the whole idea of it. He sings one of the makkos songs, gleefully, often, sometimes on the toilet, in a fierce and ruthless growl. "The mitzrim were PUNISHED, again and again!" The other makkos song, of course, teaches what the ten makkos were, and if you're Jewish you probably know it. It is a rollicking tune that helps you remember that they were "Dam, tzvardaya, kinim, arov, dever..." etc.
Got all that? Good. So, last week our non-Jewish babysitter was here while the tape was playing. We love our babysitter, and I thinks she likes us, even though she probably occasionally thinks we're deranged (and may be right.) Then we got to the makkos song. She couldn't help but notice that Barak was singing this one particularly... lustily. "What's that song?"
Without even thinking, I started to sing it, to that cheery bouncy tune, translating it into English as I went. "Blood and frogs and lice, wild beasts and pestilence, boils hail locusts darkness, the slaying of the firstborn!" I think she was mildly horrified.
9. It looks as though, B"H, MHH has a job for next year. This has been in doubt for about the last year and a half and has been weighing on us fairly heavily. His school had to inform him in writing by April 15 if he was being cut; they did not, although they also did not inform him that they were keeping him. So we had this weird day in which we were constantly calling each other. "Did anyone call? No. Did anyone call you? No. Is your cell phone on? Yeah. Nobody called. Was there anything in your mailbox? No. Did you check my email? Yep, nothing there. Okay, it's 11:30, and nothing yet..." This went on until about 11 PM, when we looked at each other and finally exhaled. Sort of, because, you know, nothing had really been confirmed in either direction. That was Tuesday. He had also applied to another job, in a local kollel, that he really wanted more but didn't think he would get. Less than an hour and a half before licht, his phone beeped, and there was a message on it saying "we're looking forward to welcoming you to the kollel..." They have not yet talked tachlis, so there is no actual job offer on paper, but so far appears that he even has options.
And it also appears that I might shortly become a kollel wife. The mind reels.
10. Grandma E and Grandpa M were here last week, in Grandpa M's great big truck. We went on sort of a pre-Pesach chol ha'moed outing on the Thursday before Pesach. I thought I would pack us a lovely picnic lunch for a last chance at some chometz. I had paper plates, knives, forks, napkins etc. in the bag I'd packed for the day, and had deli, mustard, mayonnaise, cucumbers, and juice boxes in a tied-up bag in the fridge. The ruggelach and rolls for sandwiches were in separate bags in the freezer. When it was time to go, I grabbed two of the three bags, leaving the rolls for the sandwiches behind. So we ended up eating meat with our fingers for lunch. Sigh.
The boys didn't seem to mind eating straight bologna for lunch, though, and had a fine time riding in the truck, climbing on farm equipment, etc. Inexplicably, we were the only Jewish family in the children's museum the day before the three-day yom tov that Pesach came in on. Weird, huh? I wonder where everyone else was.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
T minus one week
One week till Pesach and the house is not much farther along than it was a week ago. I did our room, my closet, my husband's closet, the back bedroom and its closet, and the front hall closet. Left to do: the living room, the kids' room, and oh yes, the kitchen.
I made meatballs for tonight and tomorrow night's dinners; I'm also planning a giant stir-fry for Shabbos with all the half-used bags of vegetables in the freezer. We got our dairy order today and now have 84 little Mehadrin yogurts in the fridge. This may sound like overkill until you realize that a) I am turning my kitchen over Sunday night and b) Barak basically lives on yogurt, bananas, and cheese on Pesach. Last year he also ate a lot of Pesach brownies but I don't do Pesach baking personally. I'd rather just eat chocolate and strawberries. We also have 5 lb of cheese, three containers of cottage cheese and two of sour cream--I like latkes on chol ha'moed Pesach. Why not?
Today I shopped for nonperishables at the kosher grocery near us and I'm glad I did, because I got the very last of the whole wheat matzo meal. Which was, I should mention, the only matzo meal left. Yep--they'd sold out of matzo meal and were not getting any more in. I did not get any shmura--that's next on the list.
Goal for tomorrow: clean kids' room for Pesach and go into Shabbos with some semblance of order. On Sunday, Vicky (whom I still cannot bring myself to call my cleaning lady because I can't handle sounding that... bourgeois) will be here for six hours while MHH takes Barak and Iyyar anywhere that isn't here. If Avtalyon lets me, we're going to do the living room and as much of the kitchen as we can.
In the meantime, we may or may not be getting an answer on one of MHH's job prospects for next year by tomorrow. He had an interview yesterday, and we are hopeful.
Oh, and I just ordered the cat food. It's a record, I think--more than a week in advance!
Stay tuned, as always, to this exciting channel.
I made meatballs for tonight and tomorrow night's dinners; I'm also planning a giant stir-fry for Shabbos with all the half-used bags of vegetables in the freezer. We got our dairy order today and now have 84 little Mehadrin yogurts in the fridge. This may sound like overkill until you realize that a) I am turning my kitchen over Sunday night and b) Barak basically lives on yogurt, bananas, and cheese on Pesach. Last year he also ate a lot of Pesach brownies but I don't do Pesach baking personally. I'd rather just eat chocolate and strawberries. We also have 5 lb of cheese, three containers of cottage cheese and two of sour cream--I like latkes on chol ha'moed Pesach. Why not?
Today I shopped for nonperishables at the kosher grocery near us and I'm glad I did, because I got the very last of the whole wheat matzo meal. Which was, I should mention, the only matzo meal left. Yep--they'd sold out of matzo meal and were not getting any more in. I did not get any shmura--that's next on the list.
Goal for tomorrow: clean kids' room for Pesach and go into Shabbos with some semblance of order. On Sunday, Vicky (whom I still cannot bring myself to call my cleaning lady because I can't handle sounding that... bourgeois) will be here for six hours while MHH takes Barak and Iyyar anywhere that isn't here. If Avtalyon lets me, we're going to do the living room and as much of the kitchen as we can.
In the meantime, we may or may not be getting an answer on one of MHH's job prospects for next year by tomorrow. He had an interview yesterday, and we are hopeful.
Oh, and I just ordered the cat food. It's a record, I think--more than a week in advance!
Stay tuned, as always, to this exciting channel.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Tuesday
I haven't been updating much. Things around here have been on the overwhelming side. A short recap:
1. Pesach is coming. I have still not ordered cat food. The back bedroom is clean and our bedroom is mostly done. Someone is coming to help me clean for a few hours on Sunday and Tuesday; I hope to get the kitchen turned over Tuesday night. Wednesday we are getting a visit from Grandma E and Grandpa M, so that will be a nice recovery time. And we'll have two good reasons to eat out.
2. I had a root canal on Wednesday. It was, of course, horrible, but it could have been a lot worse, and most important, my face feels better. No trigeminal neuralgia for me, thanks. It looks as though the insurance will end up covering about 75% of it, so it should be more like $500 than $2,000. Much better. In the next month: root canal follow-up visits #2 and 3.
3. My first day back at work is two weeks from today. I am okay about this--the telecommuting takes away about 80% of the stress.
4. And the 800-lb gorilla in the room is the fact that my husband's contract has not yet been renewed for next year, and may not be renewed at all. He's also applied for two other positions. We should hear about all three by erev Pesach. Some days I am calm about this. Some days I am not.
1. Pesach is coming. I have still not ordered cat food. The back bedroom is clean and our bedroom is mostly done. Someone is coming to help me clean for a few hours on Sunday and Tuesday; I hope to get the kitchen turned over Tuesday night. Wednesday we are getting a visit from Grandma E and Grandpa M, so that will be a nice recovery time. And we'll have two good reasons to eat out.
2. I had a root canal on Wednesday. It was, of course, horrible, but it could have been a lot worse, and most important, my face feels better. No trigeminal neuralgia for me, thanks. It looks as though the insurance will end up covering about 75% of it, so it should be more like $500 than $2,000. Much better. In the next month: root canal follow-up visits #2 and 3.
3. My first day back at work is two weeks from today. I am okay about this--the telecommuting takes away about 80% of the stress.
4. And the 800-lb gorilla in the room is the fact that my husband's contract has not yet been renewed for next year, and may not be renewed at all. He's also applied for two other positions. We should hear about all three by erev Pesach. Some days I am calm about this. Some days I am not.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
More perspective
If you had told me two weeks ago that I would require a root canal, costing around $2,000, under a crown that's less than four years old and itself cost $1,400, I would have been rather upset. Rather extremely upset. However, after googling the extremely unpleasant diagnosis the neurologist handed me last week (along with his home phone number of all things--nice, but under the circumstances not reassuring), and in consideration of just exactly how much whatever it is hurt last week (but not since, B"H), the prospect of all of this potentially being resolved with a mere $2,00o root canal seems pretty good. For the record: facial nerve pain hurts. A lot. Still not as bad as labor, but I'll pass if I can.
Nobody got any sleep here last night, with one thing and another. Yesterday, Avtalyon spent the day waking up to nurse every 20 minute or so, falling asleep nursing only to wake up again STARVING. He didn't want to be awake, couldn't stay asleep, all day and until about 12:30 am, when he finally settled down.
Which was why I was less than pleased to be awoken at 2:30 by a full-bore screaming fit from Barak, right next to my bed and Avtalyon's bassinet, along the lines of "I NEED SOME ATTENTION" and then "I DON'T FEEL GOOD." Of course you don't feel good, because you refused to go to the bathroom all day and now you're constipated. I was not prepared to deal with forcing a potty trip at that hour and brought him back to bed, where he continued to scream. MHH went in there, told him to go to the bathroom and he screamed (full volume again) that he couldn't because he didn't feel good, etc. Fast forward however long, failed potty trip over, Barak back in bed, now 3:30 am--when Avtalyon starts to shuffle, cough, snuffle, and finally cry.
All of which explains why I am sitting here at 4:02 am on two hours' sleep pumping, so Avtalyon has something to eat tomorrow if I need to take some of those "incompatible with nursing" drugs that have been mentioned to me.
Here's hoping he'll take a bottle, which he never has before.
Perspective, right? Perspective.
Nobody got any sleep here last night, with one thing and another. Yesterday, Avtalyon spent the day waking up to nurse every 20 minute or so, falling asleep nursing only to wake up again STARVING. He didn't want to be awake, couldn't stay asleep, all day and until about 12:30 am, when he finally settled down.
Which was why I was less than pleased to be awoken at 2:30 by a full-bore screaming fit from Barak, right next to my bed and Avtalyon's bassinet, along the lines of "I NEED SOME ATTENTION" and then "I DON'T FEEL GOOD." Of course you don't feel good, because you refused to go to the bathroom all day and now you're constipated. I was not prepared to deal with forcing a potty trip at that hour and brought him back to bed, where he continued to scream. MHH went in there, told him to go to the bathroom and he screamed (full volume again) that he couldn't because he didn't feel good, etc. Fast forward however long, failed potty trip over, Barak back in bed, now 3:30 am--when Avtalyon starts to shuffle, cough, snuffle, and finally cry.
All of which explains why I am sitting here at 4:02 am on two hours' sleep pumping, so Avtalyon has something to eat tomorrow if I need to take some of those "incompatible with nursing" drugs that have been mentioned to me.
Here's hoping he'll take a bottle, which he never has before.
Perspective, right? Perspective.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
So much has been going on around here that I literally don't know where to start. I've been mentally composing blog entries for the last couple of weeks, entries that never actually make it to the keyboard--so here are a few totally random things I've been thinking about.
1. Avtalyon is two months old now, and his new thing as of a couple of days ago is wanting to stand when he's held. I hold him under the arms and he bears all his weight on his legs--this, even though he's not always 100% solid on holding up his head. And we are seeing the first glimmers of smiles. The other day I was sitting in the kitchen trying to get him to smile at me. "Hi, Avtalyon! Hi! Can you smile? Hi?" Iyyar, sitting in his high chair, could. "Hi! Hi!" he crowed, shooting me one dazzling grin after another.
2. Purim was fun. As for Pesach, I'm still in denial.
3. The overriding stress around here surrounds where we'll be and what we'll be doing next year. The short version of a very long story is that my husband's contract is up for renewal and his school is showing no indication of renewing it or not before their deadline to do so, which is erev Pesach. There are a number of other options, but nearly all of them are currently out of our hands, leaving us obsessively checking phone and email as we just... wait. We thought we'd have at least one answer a couple of weeks ago, but it turned out to be a non-answer, so more waiting.
4. This is a hugely shortened story, but I have been having some rather extreme facial pain over the last week. Coupled with my history (see sidebar) and some other worrying symptoms, this earned me a trip to the neurologist yesterday. (Having had a brain tumor gets you certain "ins" in life, like emergency appointments with a booked-months-in-advance neurologist.) My current theory and hope is that it's radiated nerve pain caused by a problem with a crown that has been bothering me for a while, so I'm heading to the dentist on Monday. At the advice of the neurologist, though, I'm also lined up for an MRI. To which, in the absence of good options, I will be bringing Avtalyon. I hope he sleeps.
5. Iyyar is almost two. Both his and Barak's birthdays are about a week after Pesach--Iyyar is nearing his second, Barak his fourth. Barak's speech is now pretty much just normal, although he does say things I love like "gazania" instead of "lasagne" and "borfday" for "birthday." Iyyar, though, is Cute Speech Central. A blankie is a "ginkgee"; "thank you" is "tank ee-you"; and the sound a rooster makes is "ahh doo doo!"
1. Avtalyon is two months old now, and his new thing as of a couple of days ago is wanting to stand when he's held. I hold him under the arms and he bears all his weight on his legs--this, even though he's not always 100% solid on holding up his head. And we are seeing the first glimmers of smiles. The other day I was sitting in the kitchen trying to get him to smile at me. "Hi, Avtalyon! Hi! Can you smile? Hi?" Iyyar, sitting in his high chair, could. "Hi! Hi!" he crowed, shooting me one dazzling grin after another.
2. Purim was fun. As for Pesach, I'm still in denial.
3. The overriding stress around here surrounds where we'll be and what we'll be doing next year. The short version of a very long story is that my husband's contract is up for renewal and his school is showing no indication of renewing it or not before their deadline to do so, which is erev Pesach. There are a number of other options, but nearly all of them are currently out of our hands, leaving us obsessively checking phone and email as we just... wait. We thought we'd have at least one answer a couple of weeks ago, but it turned out to be a non-answer, so more waiting.
4. This is a hugely shortened story, but I have been having some rather extreme facial pain over the last week. Coupled with my history (see sidebar) and some other worrying symptoms, this earned me a trip to the neurologist yesterday. (Having had a brain tumor gets you certain "ins" in life, like emergency appointments with a booked-months-in-advance neurologist.) My current theory and hope is that it's radiated nerve pain caused by a problem with a crown that has been bothering me for a while, so I'm heading to the dentist on Monday. At the advice of the neurologist, though, I'm also lined up for an MRI. To which, in the absence of good options, I will be bringing Avtalyon. I hope he sleeps.
5. Iyyar is almost two. Both his and Barak's birthdays are about a week after Pesach--Iyyar is nearing his second, Barak his fourth. Barak's speech is now pretty much just normal, although he does say things I love like "gazania" instead of "lasagne" and "borfday" for "birthday." Iyyar, though, is Cute Speech Central. A blankie is a "ginkgee"; "thank you" is "tank ee-you"; and the sound a rooster makes is "ahh doo doo!"
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
A few weeks ago I abruptly ended the arrangement whereby a neighbor walked Barak to school with her daughter and I picked both kids up and brought them home. I had no problem with this when I agreed to it, until I discovered that I was also going to have the neighbor's daughter in my house for about 25 minutes every afternoon while my neighbor picked her other daughter up from school. I tried to think of it as being neighborly, not as having been taken advantage of, but I wasn't very happy about it.
Yes, I should have said something right at the beginning, but I didn't, and the longer I let it go the harder it was to say, "you know, I really don't want to keep doing this unpaid babysitting thing." It really was a pain, because if I wanted to, say, go to the store, I had to either take everyone along or go home, take off everyone's hats/coats/mittens/boots, wait for the neighbor to come, and then re-hat/coat/mitten/boot everyone to go back out. Also, the neighbor's friend doesn't listen so well (probably partly because she needs tubes in her ears) and was a pretty high-maintenance presence in the household--not least because she and Barak would get pretty wild and crazy post-school and go tearing around the house screaming. Barak, on his own, will usually listen to me when I tell him to pipe down--but with a partner in crime totally ignoring me, it's a lot harder.
Anyway, after Avtalyon came along, the confluence of his presence and Iyyar's later naptimes meant that when Barak and his friend came home, all hell broke loose. So one day, when I returned with two children to a silent house of sleeping babies and, five minutes later, had two screaming three-year-olds, a screaming Iyyar whose nap had been abruptly terminated after 25 minutes, and a screaming Avtalyon who'd been woken up by all the other screaming, I'd had it; when the neighbor came to collect her kid, I opened the door and said, "I can't keep Plonit here any more." End of walking arrangement.
(As a side note, the Israeli friend with whom I share babysitting shook her head when she heard this story. "In Israel, if you don't like it, you say to the person, no, this is not good for me. Here, not only you not say anything--you tell everyone else! So you are mad at me. You don't tell me, but you tell everyone else. The whole city knows you are mad at me. Only I do not know!" I thought about it, and you know what, she's right. I did complain about it to my husband and some of my friends, but did I tell the neighbor? No, not until I actually exploded in her face. Not the best system, I agree.)
What I was getting at, though, with this whole long lead-up, is that now I am walking Barak to and from school. This is fine by me; it isn't far, and I like having a few minutes of one-on-one time with Barak. Lately, he has, predictably, been thinking a lot about the approach of Purim--that one day in the year on which we can eat As Much Nosh As We Want. Every few hours, he'll ask, "Imma, when it's going to be Purim?"
And I'd say, "Pretty soon--next week," or whatever.
"After Shabbos it's going to be Purim?"
"After Shabbos and then another five days."
Today, he asked me when Purim was, and I told him. He was quite pleased to hear "the day after tomorrow." Then he asked,
"What's after Purim?"
"After Purim is Pesach."
"And what's after that?"
"After Pesach is Lag Ba'Omer."
"And what's after that?"
"After Lag Ba'Omer is Shavuos."
"And what's after that?"
"After Shavuos is Rosh Hashana." I thought I'd leave out that whole Three Weeks thing for the time being.
"And what's after that?"
"After that is Yom Kippur."
"And what's after that?"
"After that is Succos."
"Yay! And what's after that?"
"After that is Simchas Torah."
"And what's after that?"
"After that is Chanuka."
"And what's after that?"
"After that is Tu b'Shvat."
"And what's after that?"
"Then it's Purim again."
"That's it?"
"Isn't that enough?!"
Purim is tomorrow night, and today I baked three cakes (two castle cake and another molded cake), about a billion cookies for shaloch manos (next year bli neder I'm doing bar cookies--none of this drop cookie business), and a pot of chicken soup. I also made dough for 40 rolls, which I have yet to bake--MHH is on his way out for eggs. Fortunately I am borrowing costumes for the kids--all of them--from my neighbor, whose three sons are roughly the same difference in ages as our own. They're going to be firefighters, and fortunately Barak is perfectly happy to be the same thing he was last year.
But having Purim erev Shabbos is sort of exhausting--seuda, seuda, and hey! more seudos! And shaloch manos! And costumes!
I'm kind of tired already.
And do you know what's after Purim?
I do.
Yes, I should have said something right at the beginning, but I didn't, and the longer I let it go the harder it was to say, "you know, I really don't want to keep doing this unpaid babysitting thing." It really was a pain, because if I wanted to, say, go to the store, I had to either take everyone along or go home, take off everyone's hats/coats/mittens/boots, wait for the neighbor to come, and then re-hat/coat/mitten/boot everyone to go back out. Also, the neighbor's friend doesn't listen so well (probably partly because she needs tubes in her ears) and was a pretty high-maintenance presence in the household--not least because she and Barak would get pretty wild and crazy post-school and go tearing around the house screaming. Barak, on his own, will usually listen to me when I tell him to pipe down--but with a partner in crime totally ignoring me, it's a lot harder.
Anyway, after Avtalyon came along, the confluence of his presence and Iyyar's later naptimes meant that when Barak and his friend came home, all hell broke loose. So one day, when I returned with two children to a silent house of sleeping babies and, five minutes later, had two screaming three-year-olds, a screaming Iyyar whose nap had been abruptly terminated after 25 minutes, and a screaming Avtalyon who'd been woken up by all the other screaming, I'd had it; when the neighbor came to collect her kid, I opened the door and said, "I can't keep Plonit here any more." End of walking arrangement.
(As a side note, the Israeli friend with whom I share babysitting shook her head when she heard this story. "In Israel, if you don't like it, you say to the person, no, this is not good for me. Here, not only you not say anything--you tell everyone else! So you are mad at me. You don't tell me, but you tell everyone else. The whole city knows you are mad at me. Only I do not know!" I thought about it, and you know what, she's right. I did complain about it to my husband and some of my friends, but did I tell the neighbor? No, not until I actually exploded in her face. Not the best system, I agree.)
What I was getting at, though, with this whole long lead-up, is that now I am walking Barak to and from school. This is fine by me; it isn't far, and I like having a few minutes of one-on-one time with Barak. Lately, he has, predictably, been thinking a lot about the approach of Purim--that one day in the year on which we can eat As Much Nosh As We Want. Every few hours, he'll ask, "Imma, when it's going to be Purim?"
And I'd say, "Pretty soon--next week," or whatever.
"After Shabbos it's going to be Purim?"
"After Shabbos and then another five days."
Today, he asked me when Purim was, and I told him. He was quite pleased to hear "the day after tomorrow." Then he asked,
"What's after Purim?"
"After Purim is Pesach."
"And what's after that?"
"After Pesach is Lag Ba'Omer."
"And what's after that?"
"After Lag Ba'Omer is Shavuos."
"And what's after that?"
"After Shavuos is Rosh Hashana." I thought I'd leave out that whole Three Weeks thing for the time being.
"And what's after that?"
"After that is Yom Kippur."
"And what's after that?"
"After that is Succos."
"Yay! And what's after that?"
"After that is Simchas Torah."
"And what's after that?"
"After that is Chanuka."
"And what's after that?"
"After that is Tu b'Shvat."
"And what's after that?"
"Then it's Purim again."
"That's it?"
"Isn't that enough?!"
Purim is tomorrow night, and today I baked three cakes (two castle cake and another molded cake), about a billion cookies for shaloch manos (next year bli neder I'm doing bar cookies--none of this drop cookie business), and a pot of chicken soup. I also made dough for 40 rolls, which I have yet to bake--MHH is on his way out for eggs. Fortunately I am borrowing costumes for the kids--all of them--from my neighbor, whose three sons are roughly the same difference in ages as our own. They're going to be firefighters, and fortunately Barak is perfectly happy to be the same thing he was last year.
But having Purim erev Shabbos is sort of exhausting--seuda, seuda, and hey! more seudos! And shaloch manos! And costumes!
I'm kind of tired already.
And do you know what's after Purim?
I do.
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Barak and books
1. Purim is coming up. Not as soon as I thought--it's a week from this Friday, whereas I had somehow gotten it in my head that it was this Friday. Anyway, Barak is learning at school about Esther ha'Malka and King Achasueros and bad bad Haman. Earlier this week, he found a Purim book (courtesy of Grandma E and the book sale) on the shelf and brought it to me. We looked at the picture on the cover.
"Barak, who's that?"
"I sink dat's Esther ha'Malka."
"Right! And who's that?"
He wasn't sure, but we decided it was Mordechai. Ditto for King Acha--oh, however you pronounce it. And then there was Haman.
"Is Haman so mean?"
"Yeah!"
"But Esther is nice, right?"
"Right. Also Mordechai is nice."
"Right."
Pause.
Then, sagely: "But dey're not really real. Dey're only puppets."
2. My husband likes comic books. He used to like them the way I like yarn; now he just likes them. Anyway, there was a graphic novel sitting on our kitchen table last week, and Barak picked it up. I looked at it over his shoulder and made a mental note that it should vanish; it was something creepy about Norse deities and Hitler and changing the course of the war and whatever. Yecch. Barak, naturally, was entranced.
"Imma, what's dat?" I looked. Picture of Jews on a train platform, circa 1942.
"Those are Yidden."
"What are they doing?"
"I think they're getting on the train."
"Oh."
Okay, that was easy enough. Then he saw a picture of some Nazis.
"Imma, who are dose?"
Sigh.
"Those are Amalek, sweetie."
"Who's Amalek?"
"Amalek are mean people who don't like Yidden."
"Dey hurt da Yidden?"
"They used to. But then Hashem took them away."
"Like the dinosaurs?"
"Kind of like that." We can always hope, right?
Then he turned the page, and there, of course, was a picture of Hitler.
"Imma, who's dat?"
"Who do you think that is?"
"I sink hiss a policeman." The hat and all, you know.
"He's kind of a policeman. But he was an Amaleki policeman. Not nice at all."
"Did Hashem take him away?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
"Barak, how about if we read something else? How about Green Eggs and Ham?"
"Kay."
3. A couple of months ago I needed another $5 or so to get Super Saver shipping on Amazon, so I got a copy of Mr. Popper's Penguins. Truly a great work, and I am not being even a little bit facetious--it's totally cute and so funny and so well written. I've been reading it to Barak. I don't have any cute stories to regale you with on that front--this is more of a PSA that if you haven't read it lately, you should. But remember to explain to the child you read it to that just because penguins can slide down stairs on their tummies doesn't mean that people should. Kay? Kay.
"Barak, who's that?"
"I sink dat's Esther ha'Malka."
"Right! And who's that?"
He wasn't sure, but we decided it was Mordechai. Ditto for King Acha--oh, however you pronounce it. And then there was Haman.
"Is Haman so mean?"
"Yeah!"
"But Esther is nice, right?"
"Right. Also Mordechai is nice."
"Right."
Pause.
Then, sagely: "But dey're not really real. Dey're only puppets."
2. My husband likes comic books. He used to like them the way I like yarn; now he just likes them. Anyway, there was a graphic novel sitting on our kitchen table last week, and Barak picked it up. I looked at it over his shoulder and made a mental note that it should vanish; it was something creepy about Norse deities and Hitler and changing the course of the war and whatever. Yecch. Barak, naturally, was entranced.
"Imma, what's dat?" I looked. Picture of Jews on a train platform, circa 1942.
"Those are Yidden."
"What are they doing?"
"I think they're getting on the train."
"Oh."
Okay, that was easy enough. Then he saw a picture of some Nazis.
"Imma, who are dose?"
Sigh.
"Those are Amalek, sweetie."
"Who's Amalek?"
"Amalek are mean people who don't like Yidden."
"Dey hurt da Yidden?"
"They used to. But then Hashem took them away."
"Like the dinosaurs?"
"Kind of like that." We can always hope, right?
Then he turned the page, and there, of course, was a picture of Hitler.
"Imma, who's dat?"
"Who do you think that is?"
"I sink hiss a policeman." The hat and all, you know.
"He's kind of a policeman. But he was an Amaleki policeman. Not nice at all."
"Did Hashem take him away?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
"Barak, how about if we read something else? How about Green Eggs and Ham?"
"Kay."
3. A couple of months ago I needed another $5 or so to get Super Saver shipping on Amazon, so I got a copy of Mr. Popper's Penguins. Truly a great work, and I am not being even a little bit facetious--it's totally cute and so funny and so well written. I've been reading it to Barak. I don't have any cute stories to regale you with on that front--this is more of a PSA that if you haven't read it lately, you should. But remember to explain to the child you read it to that just because penguins can slide down stairs on their tummies doesn't mean that people should. Kay? Kay.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
What are the odds?
I just checked the mail. There were three things in there: an envelope and two postcards.
On closer inspection, I realized that all three were from Jasmin. They were dated 11 January, 5 February, and last week.
Now, it would be strange enough that they'd all arrived on the same day. But then you realize that one had a postmark with the Australian National Antarctic Seafaring Expedition on Macquarie Island; one was postmarked Rotarua, New Zealand; and the third came from Los Angeles.
All on the same day, with no other mail.
Wild.
On closer inspection, I realized that all three were from Jasmin. They were dated 11 January, 5 February, and last week.
Now, it would be strange enough that they'd all arrived on the same day. But then you realize that one had a postmark with the Australian National Antarctic Seafaring Expedition on Macquarie Island; one was postmarked Rotarua, New Zealand; and the third came from Los Angeles.
All on the same day, with no other mail.
Wild.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Five
Today is our (mine and my husband's) fifth anniversary. By the secular date--by the Hebrew date, it's Wednesday.
I mentioned this to my husband a week or so ago--fair warning and all. He was sitting at the computer putting together a worksheet for his Chumash class. "Hey, five years!" I mused.
He didn't actually look at me, but did sort of incline his head in my general direction while continuing to type. "Five years of what?"
To his credit, he reacted quite appropriately when I informed him that I'd been talking about the five years of WEDDED BLISS he has thus far enjoyed with his WIFE, namely ME. He not only stopped typing, but turned around completely and said, "Ohh. I'm in trouble now, aren't I." No, not really. I didn't marry you for your romanticism.
What I did marry him for, though, became evident (again) a few hours later. Abba was in the bathroom checking in on Barak, who had been sitting on the toilet playing with his Columbus trucks. (He likes the truck aspect of potty trips, so sometimes will hang out in there much longer than required by nature.) By the time Abba went in there, though, Barak was done, wiped, hands washed and in pajamas. Abba was taken aback. "Who helped you get dressed?"
"Imma helped me." (I'm overhearing this from the kitchen.)
"Oh. Imma wiped you too?"
"Yeah!"
"Oh, Imma's awesome. I thought I was going to do that. Isn't Imma awesome!"
"Yeah!"
"Do you have such an awesome Imma? You should tell her that, you know. It's very important to tell Imma that she's awesome. It makes Imma feel good and it's a mitzva. You should always tell Imma that she's the awesomest."
And I'm pretty sure he didn't even realize I was listening in.
I mentioned this to my husband a week or so ago--fair warning and all. He was sitting at the computer putting together a worksheet for his Chumash class. "Hey, five years!" I mused.
He didn't actually look at me, but did sort of incline his head in my general direction while continuing to type. "Five years of what?"
To his credit, he reacted quite appropriately when I informed him that I'd been talking about the five years of WEDDED BLISS he has thus far enjoyed with his WIFE, namely ME. He not only stopped typing, but turned around completely and said, "Ohh. I'm in trouble now, aren't I." No, not really. I didn't marry you for your romanticism.
What I did marry him for, though, became evident (again) a few hours later. Abba was in the bathroom checking in on Barak, who had been sitting on the toilet playing with his Columbus trucks. (He likes the truck aspect of potty trips, so sometimes will hang out in there much longer than required by nature.) By the time Abba went in there, though, Barak was done, wiped, hands washed and in pajamas. Abba was taken aback. "Who helped you get dressed?"
"Imma helped me." (I'm overhearing this from the kitchen.)
"Oh. Imma wiped you too?"
"Yeah!"
"Oh, Imma's awesome. I thought I was going to do that. Isn't Imma awesome!"
"Yeah!"
"Do you have such an awesome Imma? You should tell her that, you know. It's very important to tell Imma that she's awesome. It makes Imma feel good and it's a mitzva. You should always tell Imma that she's the awesomest."
And I'm pretty sure he didn't even realize I was listening in.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Talking
Iyyar got a little bit of a late start talking. He didn't really say anything until he was eighteen months old--just Barak's name and, once in a while, Abba. Now, at exactly 22 months, the word you hear from him most often is "yeah!" followed closely by "NO!" Lately there's been a whole slew of new words from him: waffle ("wa fo!"), chatul ("ah too!"), bear, gate, etc. He can say Imma ("Amma!") but most of the time just calls me Abba. Easier to say, I guess. And he clearly understands quite a lot in both English and Hebrew--he'll get me socks out of drawers if I ask for them (even socks for Barak if I specify socks for Barak), put his coat in the closet upon request, etc. When Asnat made her heroic return a couple of weeks ago, she said in Hebrew, "Let's go brush teeth!" and he went straight to the bathroom. He's moving right along with that language thing.
So far, though, I haven't heard much in the way of putting words together, with the exception of phrases he got ready-made from Barak (notably, "I don't want it!" and "Open it!") I've never gotten an answer to a question that wasn't yes/no. Well, okay, if you ask him if he's poopy he answers you by saying "boopy!" but that's still really a binary-option question, isn't it.
But today, we got something new. We were at Chana's house across the street, and all of a sudden there was Iyyar, proudly handing me... an obviously not at all child-proof electrical outlet cover.
"Iyyar! Where did you get that?"
Iyyar, very pleased with himself: "The wall."
Wow. I mean, mild horror about the outlet cover, overridden by pride in linguistic virtuosity.
Oh, and today's favorite from Barak: we saw a bunch of pine needles squished in some snow. Barak told me that he didn't want to step on them, because they would hurt his foot. I said no, they aren't sharp, even though they're called needles. They're from a pine tree. I showed him a pine tree, and he considered. Ah! And a lightbulb went off. "Pineapples grow on the pine tree, right?"
No, but they should.
So far, though, I haven't heard much in the way of putting words together, with the exception of phrases he got ready-made from Barak (notably, "I don't want it!" and "Open it!") I've never gotten an answer to a question that wasn't yes/no. Well, okay, if you ask him if he's poopy he answers you by saying "boopy!" but that's still really a binary-option question, isn't it.
But today, we got something new. We were at Chana's house across the street, and all of a sudden there was Iyyar, proudly handing me... an obviously not at all child-proof electrical outlet cover.
"Iyyar! Where did you get that?"
Iyyar, very pleased with himself: "The wall."
Wow. I mean, mild horror about the outlet cover, overridden by pride in linguistic virtuosity.
Oh, and today's favorite from Barak: we saw a bunch of pine needles squished in some snow. Barak told me that he didn't want to step on them, because they would hurt his foot. I said no, they aren't sharp, even though they're called needles. They're from a pine tree. I showed him a pine tree, and he considered. Ah! And a lightbulb went off. "Pineapples grow on the pine tree, right?"
No, but they should.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Gaiva
Okay, I know that in the scheme of things three kids is not so many. I know one lady in town who just had her fourteenth. I know plenty of people whose response to having only three kids at home is, "Now is my time to get things done!" But for me, having three is still pretty new, and if I manage to get ANYTHING accomplished when they're all home and awake, I'm pretty proud of myself.
So, I will say with no modesty whatsoever that today I [sound the trumpets!] went erranding with all of them at once--Barak and Iyyar in the double stroller (which again has a flat tire after a visit to the Car Man just two days ago--I need to go to the Bike Man, I think) and Avtalyon in the Snugli inside my coat. We went to the barbershop, where Barak had a desperately needed haircut; the drugstore, where we finally printed out some pictures; and the produce store, where I put Iyyar in the shopping cart, had Barak (sort of) holding the shopping cart, and did a $60-worth-of-groceries shop so as to be able to have them all delivered tomorrow morning. (No more meals turning up miraculously at dinnertime, alas--time for me to start cooking again.)
Then I came home, nursed the baby, set the big boys to a table of Play-Doh, and started some rice cooking; nursed the baby, put away laundry, nursed the baby, and supervised clean-up (Barak cleaned up his room all by himself! Really! And he did at least as good a job as any adult other than me would have!); nursed the baby, fed the kids dinner (strawberries, bananas, brown rice, and hard-boiled eggs--weird, but not unhealthy); got the boys into pajamas and back at the Play-Doh (reward to Barak for excellent cleaning up). Then I nursed the baby some more. Then Abba came home and supervised teeth-brushing and potty trips; I nursed Avtalyon again, and he's been asleep for the last two hours in his very own carseat in our room. Then I made dinner (rice, vegetable and peanut butter concoction a la uberimma) for MHH, with enough left for his lunch tomorrow. (I can't eat it--too many onions, and they'll make Avtalyon cry. So I got rice parve chicken nuggets and bananas.)
Whew.
And now, some pictures. Who on earth could this be?
It's baby Avtalyon, looking very very interested in... something. What, you ask, could be fascinating him so?
Why, my sock yarn collection, of course!
This bodes well. This bodes very, very well.
So, I will say with no modesty whatsoever that today I [sound the trumpets!] went erranding with all of them at once--Barak and Iyyar in the double stroller (which again has a flat tire after a visit to the Car Man just two days ago--I need to go to the Bike Man, I think) and Avtalyon in the Snugli inside my coat. We went to the barbershop, where Barak had a desperately needed haircut; the drugstore, where we finally printed out some pictures; and the produce store, where I put Iyyar in the shopping cart, had Barak (sort of) holding the shopping cart, and did a $60-worth-of-groceries shop so as to be able to have them all delivered tomorrow morning. (No more meals turning up miraculously at dinnertime, alas--time for me to start cooking again.)
Then I came home, nursed the baby, set the big boys to a table of Play-Doh, and started some rice cooking; nursed the baby, put away laundry, nursed the baby, and supervised clean-up (Barak cleaned up his room all by himself! Really! And he did at least as good a job as any adult other than me would have!); nursed the baby, fed the kids dinner (strawberries, bananas, brown rice, and hard-boiled eggs--weird, but not unhealthy); got the boys into pajamas and back at the Play-Doh (reward to Barak for excellent cleaning up). Then I nursed the baby some more. Then Abba came home and supervised teeth-brushing and potty trips; I nursed Avtalyon again, and he's been asleep for the last two hours in his very own carseat in our room. Then I made dinner (rice, vegetable and peanut butter concoction a la uberimma) for MHH, with enough left for his lunch tomorrow. (I can't eat it--too many onions, and they'll make Avtalyon cry. So I got rice parve chicken nuggets and bananas.)
Whew.
And now, some pictures. Who on earth could this be?
It's baby Avtalyon, looking very very interested in... something. What, you ask, could be fascinating him so?
Why, my sock yarn collection, of course!
This bodes well. This bodes very, very well.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Closer inspection
Avtalyon had a rough night last night. (Was it only last week he was sleeping six hours at a stretch?!) There was much screaming, and much "I cannot possibly sleep unless you are holding me so do not even think of putting me down no no oh God oh God DON'T PUT ME DOWN NO NO NOOOOOO!"
After a couple of hours of this I actually let him cry until he went to sleep by himself, which didn't take very long. If you do not know me and my philosophy on baby-parenting you might not be shocked by this but if you do, you will know that I am morally, philosophically, constitutionally and hormonally opposed to letting newborn babies cry. However there is parenting philosophy and then there are the realities of sleep deprivation; I simply cannot put myself in a position where I am letting him train me to hold him all night. If he were in pain or sick or really bothered by something, ok; but it was fairly clear to me that the only problem was an intense desire to be cuddled all night long. Which... well, sorry, but no.
To make up for it he spent a lot of today in my arms or in the Snugli, and seems to have gotten his quota of snuggles in for the time being. Right at this very moment he is asleep in the very carseat that was anathema not twelve hours ago. It probably helps that he is, you guessed it, parked next to the dishwasher. KitchenAid is not the best for a number of things but when it comes to high-priced baby-soothers boy do they know their stuff. I put my ear next to the dishwasher today, just to see what it is he hears, and danged if there isn't a heartbeat in there. I'm not joking. It's probably the motor, or the sprayer, but whatever's causing it there is a very clear "whumpWHUMP, whumpWHUMP" in the middle of all the rumbling and swishing. When you add in the voices--mine, Iyyar's, and Barak's--he hears faintly in the background of all that noise, it probably adds up to about the closest auditory approximation possible of life inside the womb.
After a couple of hours of this I actually let him cry until he went to sleep by himself, which didn't take very long. If you do not know me and my philosophy on baby-parenting you might not be shocked by this but if you do, you will know that I am morally, philosophically, constitutionally and hormonally opposed to letting newborn babies cry. However there is parenting philosophy and then there are the realities of sleep deprivation; I simply cannot put myself in a position where I am letting him train me to hold him all night. If he were in pain or sick or really bothered by something, ok; but it was fairly clear to me that the only problem was an intense desire to be cuddled all night long. Which... well, sorry, but no.
To make up for it he spent a lot of today in my arms or in the Snugli, and seems to have gotten his quota of snuggles in for the time being. Right at this very moment he is asleep in the very carseat that was anathema not twelve hours ago. It probably helps that he is, you guessed it, parked next to the dishwasher. KitchenAid is not the best for a number of things but when it comes to high-priced baby-soothers boy do they know their stuff. I put my ear next to the dishwasher today, just to see what it is he hears, and danged if there isn't a heartbeat in there. I'm not joking. It's probably the motor, or the sprayer, but whatever's causing it there is a very clear "whumpWHUMP, whumpWHUMP" in the middle of all the rumbling and swishing. When you add in the voices--mine, Iyyar's, and Barak's--he hears faintly in the background of all that noise, it probably adds up to about the closest auditory approximation possible of life inside the womb.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
I've said it before
and will say it again: if we'd never so much as washed a dish in that thing, the dishwasher we bought when we moved into this apartment would still be worth every penny we paid for it. It would also even be worth the grief of the cockroaches (eww) we briefly had to deal with as a result of the water pipes' having been opened.
Avtalyon, who has learned his big brothers' trick of falling asleep nursing/in my arms and then waking up ten minutes after being put down, is currently totally passed out in the carseat in front of the dishwasher, which is now washing the same load of dishes for the second time.
Last night was better sleep-wise than Friday night, but not as good as earlier in the week: he woke up to eat every 2-3 hours from 10 till 4:30, but then decided to be completely awake and perky at 5 am. Every time I put him down, I'd hear those snuffling baby noses, and then I'd look in the cosleeper to see those bright beady little eyes looking up at me. Hi there, Imma! In case you haven't noticed, I'm awake, and that dark ceiling is not providing me with much in the way of stimulation. Do you think you could possibly find me a somewhat more interesting view? A perky-in-the-middle-of-the-night baby is, clearly, much better than a screaming-in-pain baby, but still not conducive to sleep.
Since I'd had a hard time getting to sleep (due to headache now in what, its 17th straight day?) I got to 7:30 am--big boys' wakeup time--with about three and a half cumulative hours of sleep. Not good. But Abba fielded everyone for a few hours later in the morning, so I got a nap, and then this afternoon I got brave and actually went shopping with Iyyar traveling solo in the double jogger and Avtalyon snoozing in the Snugli. It went fine--Avtalyon stayed asleep and Iyyar enjoyed the pita bread he scored at the grocery score. And this evening, I not only managed to cook dinner (whole-wheat couscous with spinach and cheese--what else?) but handled bedtime on my own. Nobody got a bath, but at least bedtime happened without screaming and with brushed teeth--enough of an accomplishment with a four-week-old, I think.
Avtalyon, who has learned his big brothers' trick of falling asleep nursing/in my arms and then waking up ten minutes after being put down, is currently totally passed out in the carseat in front of the dishwasher, which is now washing the same load of dishes for the second time.
Last night was better sleep-wise than Friday night, but not as good as earlier in the week: he woke up to eat every 2-3 hours from 10 till 4:30, but then decided to be completely awake and perky at 5 am. Every time I put him down, I'd hear those snuffling baby noses, and then I'd look in the cosleeper to see those bright beady little eyes looking up at me. Hi there, Imma! In case you haven't noticed, I'm awake, and that dark ceiling is not providing me with much in the way of stimulation. Do you think you could possibly find me a somewhat more interesting view? A perky-in-the-middle-of-the-night baby is, clearly, much better than a screaming-in-pain baby, but still not conducive to sleep.
Since I'd had a hard time getting to sleep (due to headache now in what, its 17th straight day?) I got to 7:30 am--big boys' wakeup time--with about three and a half cumulative hours of sleep. Not good. But Abba fielded everyone for a few hours later in the morning, so I got a nap, and then this afternoon I got brave and actually went shopping with Iyyar traveling solo in the double jogger and Avtalyon snoozing in the Snugli. It went fine--Avtalyon stayed asleep and Iyyar enjoyed the pita bread he scored at the grocery score. And this evening, I not only managed to cook dinner (whole-wheat couscous with spinach and cheese--what else?) but handled bedtime on my own. Nobody got a bath, but at least bedtime happened without screaming and with brushed teeth--enough of an accomplishment with a four-week-old, I think.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Ten things
1. Well, it had to happen sooner or later. Baby Avtalyon appears to have found the Household Book of Newborn Sleep (I thought I'd shredded all the copies, but someone appears to have hoarded one away---@*&%$*! packrats!) , and realized, "Hey! All I have to do is scream nonstop, and they'll hold me all the time! Gevalt!" And so those nice chunks of sleep, for him and for me, are now but a vanishing memory.
To be fair, what really seems to have happened is that he's gotten some pretty unpleasant gas--when he's held over my shoulder (nice warm pressure on the tummy) he calms down and goes to sleep; if I put him down, a few minutes later he wakes up howling. This went on, well, all night last night--it was a page right out of Barak's baby book (which he doesn't have, since I was too sleep-deprived to even think of starting one). A few horrible explosions this afternoon and he was much happier--he's napping in his carseat now. But I'm going to have to go wake him up fairly shortly--if I let him go longer than three hours between feeds that'll diminish any chances of nice nighttime sleep any further.
To be honest this is still a vast, vast improvement over Barak, who never slept while not being held, ever, at all. But the last few weeks have spoiled me. I keep trying to maintain an attitude of "let's just enjoy this temporary phase while it lasts," but...
2. The second nicest thing about having a new baby (after the baby, obviously) is that, at least if you're Jewish and live in a strong community, people bring you food. They bring you lots of food. The baby is now four weeks and a day old and I have cooked one--that's ONE--meal since he was born. Yesterday, signals got crossed and we were brought Shabbos dinner twice. And people always bring much more than you are really going to eat in one meal (lunch the next day, obviously). That meant that when I lit candles yesterday, I had three chickens, two big kugels, a pan of green beans, gefilte fish, chicken soup, a pan of warm chocolate chip cookies, and no fewer than six challot piled in my kitchen. It's been a pretty tasty Shabbos. (What did Barak eat? Barak ate yogurt, cereal, bananas and cucumbers. Of course.)
Now I just have to start returning all those containers, not all of which I labeled...
3. I completely forgot that when I had Iyyar, I was kicking myself for not using all my sick time before I went out on leave. Where I work, we get 6 weeks of short-term disability, offset by however many days of sick time you have stored up, for maternity leave. STD is 60% pay, but no deductions; since I am part-time, it is pretty close to my actual pay. And if I have a pay period with anything less than a full two weeks' of hours, but the usual deductions for insurance etc, STD is significantly more. But since I had so much to do before going out on leave, as much as I would have liked a couple of days off I did not take them; the result was that I still lost the days to my FMLA leave, and was paid less than I would have been if I hadn't had them saved. Grr.
4. Speaking of sleep issues (when am I not?) Iyyar is now in a nap-resistant, sleep-defiant phase. He howls for a long, long time at bedtime. In fact he is at it now. I'm ignoring it. And bizarrely, I think Barak is already asleep.
5. I'm feeling that Iyyar is really getting the short end of things with my time these days. Avtalyon, of course, is taking up a lot of attention, much more these last few days that he's started crying a lot; Barak is perpetually so high-maintenance that Iyyar already didn't get his fair share of Imma, even before the baby was born. And now he's getting even less, and it's starting to show in his behavior.
Tomorrow Abba is planning to take Barak out for some fun activities in the afternoon, and I am hoping to give Iyyar some quality time--of course, if Avtalyon permits it. It occurred to me to wonder how mothers of higher orders of kids manage the one-on-one time, and thinking about the families I know I just don't think most of them have the equivalent of a Barak, who is not only totally Imma-centric but incredibly sensitive to, well, everything. If Iyyar doesn't get all the attention I think he really should, not that much happens--I feel guilty, he acts up, and that's it. If Barak doesn't get all the attention he thinks he really should, the universe implodes. And having vivid memories of attention deprivation myself, I hate that as much as he does. Yes, he's incredibly high-maintenance, but guess what? He gets it from me.
6. I am extremely fortunate to be, B"H, pretty healthy in both the major and the minor regards. I hardly ever get upset stomachs, have not broken a bone in about 25 years, and almost never get headaches. However, the one I have now is now entering its third week. I think I've taken more Tylenol in the last couple of weeks than I did in the previous ten years combined (that's assuming I ever took Tylenol in the last decade, which I'm honestly not sure I did). I've been drinking water by the liter, it's not like I suddenly went off coffee (ha!) and the sleep deprivation didn't really kick in until a couple days ago. What's up with that? I had a cold, but that seems to have gone away while the headache has lingered, and lingered.
7. It's a good thing tiny babies have tiny clothes. They produce incredible amounts of laundry by item count, but each individual thing is so small it doesn't register much in the daily laundry volume. So it's not as much of a shock to the system, although it has derailed my usual laundry-sorting method. As the clothes get bigger, the laundry volume increases gradually, and you notice it less. At least that's my theory. I'll have to ask my husband, the one who actually does the laundry (usually at 5 am) if he agrees.
8. Does anyone out there have six skeins of Classic Elite London Tweed yarn to sell or swap? It was discontinued in 2001 and I bought some on elann. com to make a sweater that promptly became my all-time favorite. Said sweater is now seriously disintegrating, the yarn is no longer available anywhere, and the only person on Ravelry who has any stashed has not gotten back to me after an initial message exchange on the topic.
9. Hey, how about that?! Everybody's quiet! (Or maybe it's just that the heat is coming up now, and it's noisy enough to block everyone out. Which is also possible.)
10. When's the last time YOU tested your smoke detectors? We test ours pretty regularly but apparently I missed one. Earlier this week I had a pan of leftover meatballs from Shabbos warming in the oven and as I took it out it spilled meatballs and sauce all over the bottom of the extremely hot oven. Annoying enough, but I completely did not have the time to clean it then and there so by the time I did get to it it was a huge burned-on mess. Which, apparently, I did not deal with adequately--when I turned on the oven erev Shabbos to warm up the Shabbos food, huge plumes of smoke came billowing out of the vent--but didn't set of the smoke detectors. I got up on a chair and checked, and it turned out that the battery had somehow come loose from its connectors.
Being intensely neurotic about smoke detectors, I [idiotically] connected the battery, with the obvious result of high-pitched beeping right in my ear, etc. I got something to wave away the smoke with, and Barak found a shmatta to come help; then Iyyar, sitting in his high chair ten feet away, wanted to get in on the act, so I gave him one too.
Picture it, if you will: me, postpartum, getting more disheveled by the second standing on chair waving Lands' End catalogue; Barak in car pajamas, peanut butter on face, waving dishtowel enthusiastically around my knees, Iyyar, in hand-me-down green pajamas and covered in chicken soup, also waving dishtowel, making thwacking sounds as he occasionally inadvertently smacks himself in the face. Smoke detector screeching, kitchen full of smoke, baby begins to cry; doorbell rings, and behold! it is the extremely wonderful and amazing family who is bringing us dinner. But not just any wonderful and amazing family. They are possibly the frummest and most chassidish family I know; the father, who is a very respected rabbi with a shul around here, is the only person I know in town who not only wears a shtreiml but has his payes long and curled. I was expecting the mother (whom I know fairly well, since she sends her kids to the same playgroup where Barak goes), not the father, so was a bit taken aback. Being that he is, as I say, extremely nice, he gave no indication at all of having noticed that half my ponytail was, presumably as a result of my catalogue-waving vigor, sticking straight out of my tichel.
I did not remember until after I got over the initial shock (looking in the bathroom mirror later and realizing what had happened) that his was the shul in which Iyyar pulled off my tichel last year. Ah well. Another good reason to have a shtark mechitza.
To be fair, what really seems to have happened is that he's gotten some pretty unpleasant gas--when he's held over my shoulder (nice warm pressure on the tummy) he calms down and goes to sleep; if I put him down, a few minutes later he wakes up howling. This went on, well, all night last night--it was a page right out of Barak's baby book (which he doesn't have, since I was too sleep-deprived to even think of starting one). A few horrible explosions this afternoon and he was much happier--he's napping in his carseat now. But I'm going to have to go wake him up fairly shortly--if I let him go longer than three hours between feeds that'll diminish any chances of nice nighttime sleep any further.
To be honest this is still a vast, vast improvement over Barak, who never slept while not being held, ever, at all. But the last few weeks have spoiled me. I keep trying to maintain an attitude of "let's just enjoy this temporary phase while it lasts," but...
2. The second nicest thing about having a new baby (after the baby, obviously) is that, at least if you're Jewish and live in a strong community, people bring you food. They bring you lots of food. The baby is now four weeks and a day old and I have cooked one--that's ONE--meal since he was born. Yesterday, signals got crossed and we were brought Shabbos dinner twice. And people always bring much more than you are really going to eat in one meal (lunch the next day, obviously). That meant that when I lit candles yesterday, I had three chickens, two big kugels, a pan of green beans, gefilte fish, chicken soup, a pan of warm chocolate chip cookies, and no fewer than six challot piled in my kitchen. It's been a pretty tasty Shabbos. (What did Barak eat? Barak ate yogurt, cereal, bananas and cucumbers. Of course.)
Now I just have to start returning all those containers, not all of which I labeled...
3. I completely forgot that when I had Iyyar, I was kicking myself for not using all my sick time before I went out on leave. Where I work, we get 6 weeks of short-term disability, offset by however many days of sick time you have stored up, for maternity leave. STD is 60% pay, but no deductions; since I am part-time, it is pretty close to my actual pay. And if I have a pay period with anything less than a full two weeks' of hours, but the usual deductions for insurance etc, STD is significantly more. But since I had so much to do before going out on leave, as much as I would have liked a couple of days off I did not take them; the result was that I still lost the days to my FMLA leave, and was paid less than I would have been if I hadn't had them saved. Grr.
4. Speaking of sleep issues (when am I not?) Iyyar is now in a nap-resistant, sleep-defiant phase. He howls for a long, long time at bedtime. In fact he is at it now. I'm ignoring it. And bizarrely, I think Barak is already asleep.
5. I'm feeling that Iyyar is really getting the short end of things with my time these days. Avtalyon, of course, is taking up a lot of attention, much more these last few days that he's started crying a lot; Barak is perpetually so high-maintenance that Iyyar already didn't get his fair share of Imma, even before the baby was born. And now he's getting even less, and it's starting to show in his behavior.
Tomorrow Abba is planning to take Barak out for some fun activities in the afternoon, and I am hoping to give Iyyar some quality time--of course, if Avtalyon permits it. It occurred to me to wonder how mothers of higher orders of kids manage the one-on-one time, and thinking about the families I know I just don't think most of them have the equivalent of a Barak, who is not only totally Imma-centric but incredibly sensitive to, well, everything. If Iyyar doesn't get all the attention I think he really should, not that much happens--I feel guilty, he acts up, and that's it. If Barak doesn't get all the attention he thinks he really should, the universe implodes. And having vivid memories of attention deprivation myself, I hate that as much as he does. Yes, he's incredibly high-maintenance, but guess what? He gets it from me.
6. I am extremely fortunate to be, B"H, pretty healthy in both the major and the minor regards. I hardly ever get upset stomachs, have not broken a bone in about 25 years, and almost never get headaches. However, the one I have now is now entering its third week. I think I've taken more Tylenol in the last couple of weeks than I did in the previous ten years combined (that's assuming I ever took Tylenol in the last decade, which I'm honestly not sure I did). I've been drinking water by the liter, it's not like I suddenly went off coffee (ha!) and the sleep deprivation didn't really kick in until a couple days ago. What's up with that? I had a cold, but that seems to have gone away while the headache has lingered, and lingered.
7. It's a good thing tiny babies have tiny clothes. They produce incredible amounts of laundry by item count, but each individual thing is so small it doesn't register much in the daily laundry volume. So it's not as much of a shock to the system, although it has derailed my usual laundry-sorting method. As the clothes get bigger, the laundry volume increases gradually, and you notice it less. At least that's my theory. I'll have to ask my husband, the one who actually does the laundry (usually at 5 am) if he agrees.
8. Does anyone out there have six skeins of Classic Elite London Tweed yarn to sell or swap? It was discontinued in 2001 and I bought some on elann. com to make a sweater that promptly became my all-time favorite. Said sweater is now seriously disintegrating, the yarn is no longer available anywhere, and the only person on Ravelry who has any stashed has not gotten back to me after an initial message exchange on the topic.
9. Hey, how about that?! Everybody's quiet! (Or maybe it's just that the heat is coming up now, and it's noisy enough to block everyone out. Which is also possible.)
10. When's the last time YOU tested your smoke detectors? We test ours pretty regularly but apparently I missed one. Earlier this week I had a pan of leftover meatballs from Shabbos warming in the oven and as I took it out it spilled meatballs and sauce all over the bottom of the extremely hot oven. Annoying enough, but I completely did not have the time to clean it then and there so by the time I did get to it it was a huge burned-on mess. Which, apparently, I did not deal with adequately--when I turned on the oven erev Shabbos to warm up the Shabbos food, huge plumes of smoke came billowing out of the vent--but didn't set of the smoke detectors. I got up on a chair and checked, and it turned out that the battery had somehow come loose from its connectors.
Being intensely neurotic about smoke detectors, I [idiotically] connected the battery, with the obvious result of high-pitched beeping right in my ear, etc. I got something to wave away the smoke with, and Barak found a shmatta to come help; then Iyyar, sitting in his high chair ten feet away, wanted to get in on the act, so I gave him one too.
Picture it, if you will: me, postpartum, getting more disheveled by the second standing on chair waving Lands' End catalogue; Barak in car pajamas, peanut butter on face, waving dishtowel enthusiastically around my knees, Iyyar, in hand-me-down green pajamas and covered in chicken soup, also waving dishtowel, making thwacking sounds as he occasionally inadvertently smacks himself in the face. Smoke detector screeching, kitchen full of smoke, baby begins to cry; doorbell rings, and behold! it is the extremely wonderful and amazing family who is bringing us dinner. But not just any wonderful and amazing family. They are possibly the frummest and most chassidish family I know; the father, who is a very respected rabbi with a shul around here, is the only person I know in town who not only wears a shtreiml but has his payes long and curled. I was expecting the mother (whom I know fairly well, since she sends her kids to the same playgroup where Barak goes), not the father, so was a bit taken aback. Being that he is, as I say, extremely nice, he gave no indication at all of having noticed that half my ponytail was, presumably as a result of my catalogue-waving vigor, sticking straight out of my tichel.
I did not remember until after I got over the initial shock (looking in the bathroom mirror later and realizing what had happened) that his was the shul in which Iyyar pulled off my tichel last year. Ah well. Another good reason to have a shtark mechitza.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Deja vu...
I think this is the fourth time I've called Chana, my friend across the street, in a panic asking her to take my kid(s) so that I could go to the doctor/hospital.
Three-week-old baby + 100.3 fever = trip to doctor's office. Not the ER though, fortunately. Last night at 4 am Avtalyon suddenly went from being the calmest, mellowest, least stressed-out baby I have ever seen (much less had) to a sad cranky baby who cried a lot, didn't want to nurse, and was whimpery even while being held. I checked his temperature a couple of times this morning and was nervous to see it hovering around 99-something--all three of my boys tend to have baseline temperatures around 97-98F or so, at all times of day. (I know, I know, but I'm telling you it's true.) But at at around 2, it hit 100.3--close enough to the official "your newborn has a fever and you have to do something about it right now" mark of 100.5 that I called the doctor.
So, Barak and Iyyar went to Chana's (there is nothing like having amazing neighbors, is there...), I called a cab, and off we went--me toting a bag with three changes of clothes and a pile of knitting, because now I've been around the block with these things enough times that I didn't assume we were going right back home. But as it happened, the bag was unnecessary. The doctor thinks he is either a) fine, not having a "true fever" (apparently those 2/10s of a degree matter--who knew?) or b) coming down with something and it's too early to tell. I'm not sure either which it is, but something is for sure bugging him. Avtalyon is not eating so well, is breathing faster and louder than usual, and has lost a couple of those hard-won ounces since yesterday--more worrisome than that to me, though, was the difference in personality. He had little worry lines on his forehead and even while asleep looked so troubled.
Now, if this were Barak or Iyyar at the same age, I would think nothing of it. That was just the way they were--high-need, high-stress babies. But Avtalyon is different, and it was clear even in the hospital before the jaundice. No bets on how he'll be in the months to come, but until now, he's been the sweetest, easiest baby ever. He'll sleep while not being held. When he wakes up, he looks around for a while to see if anyone's coming before mounting any complaints; Barak would (and sometimes still does) start screaming before even waking up all the way. After the trauma of a diaper change, Barak and Iyyar needed time to calm down; Avtalyon protests at least as much (and usually pees all over the wall, just so you are clear that he is ANNOYED), but as soon as you're done he heaves a "Thank God THAT's over" sigh and resumes his inspection of the curtains or my shoulder or the side of the Kleenex box. So far, he's just a lot calmer and a lot more mellow. Ergo, the behavior is seeming odd.
He nursed a little bit when we got home, but not much; I checked his temperature again and it's 99.7. B"H he's sleeping in his carseat now, making little "I'm not so happy" noises but not really waking up. I'm hoping he'll get a good rest, wake up, eat a good meal and feel better. Stay tuned.
Three-week-old baby + 100.3 fever = trip to doctor's office. Not the ER though, fortunately. Last night at 4 am Avtalyon suddenly went from being the calmest, mellowest, least stressed-out baby I have ever seen (much less had) to a sad cranky baby who cried a lot, didn't want to nurse, and was whimpery even while being held. I checked his temperature a couple of times this morning and was nervous to see it hovering around 99-something--all three of my boys tend to have baseline temperatures around 97-98F or so, at all times of day. (I know, I know, but I'm telling you it's true.) But at at around 2, it hit 100.3--close enough to the official "your newborn has a fever and you have to do something about it right now" mark of 100.5 that I called the doctor.
So, Barak and Iyyar went to Chana's (there is nothing like having amazing neighbors, is there...), I called a cab, and off we went--me toting a bag with three changes of clothes and a pile of knitting, because now I've been around the block with these things enough times that I didn't assume we were going right back home. But as it happened, the bag was unnecessary. The doctor thinks he is either a) fine, not having a "true fever" (apparently those 2/10s of a degree matter--who knew?) or b) coming down with something and it's too early to tell. I'm not sure either which it is, but something is for sure bugging him. Avtalyon is not eating so well, is breathing faster and louder than usual, and has lost a couple of those hard-won ounces since yesterday--more worrisome than that to me, though, was the difference in personality. He had little worry lines on his forehead and even while asleep looked so troubled.
Now, if this were Barak or Iyyar at the same age, I would think nothing of it. That was just the way they were--high-need, high-stress babies. But Avtalyon is different, and it was clear even in the hospital before the jaundice. No bets on how he'll be in the months to come, but until now, he's been the sweetest, easiest baby ever. He'll sleep while not being held. When he wakes up, he looks around for a while to see if anyone's coming before mounting any complaints; Barak would (and sometimes still does) start screaming before even waking up all the way. After the trauma of a diaper change, Barak and Iyyar needed time to calm down; Avtalyon protests at least as much (and usually pees all over the wall, just so you are clear that he is ANNOYED), but as soon as you're done he heaves a "Thank God THAT's over" sigh and resumes his inspection of the curtains or my shoulder or the side of the Kleenex box. So far, he's just a lot calmer and a lot more mellow. Ergo, the behavior is seeming odd.
He nursed a little bit when we got home, but not much; I checked his temperature again and it's 99.7. B"H he's sleeping in his carseat now, making little "I'm not so happy" noises but not really waking up. I'm hoping he'll get a good rest, wake up, eat a good meal and feel better. Stay tuned.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
The secret life of a three-year-old
This afternoon, I was sitting in the rocking chair in the boys' room watching them play. Avtalyon was napping, and it had been a fairly mellow day--the usual number of meltdowns, but since I'd had five straight hours of sleep the night before PLUS a nap this morning, I was dealing fine and all was good. Iyyar was rolling around on the train bed, and Barak was sitting quietly on the floor with a box of toy tools, looking pensive.
I wondered what he was thinking. If I ask him, the answer is always "I don't know," and a giggle. With Iyyar and Avtalyon, there's really no way to know what's going on in their heads most of the time. So I sat there, wondering what he was thinking about just at that very moment, pondering the mystery of little kids' minds. Just as I'd arrived at the conclusion that I would never really know what happens between his ears, he told me.
"Imma," he said, very seriously, "I needa bang someping. What can I bang?"
I wondered what he was thinking. If I ask him, the answer is always "I don't know," and a giggle. With Iyyar and Avtalyon, there's really no way to know what's going on in their heads most of the time. So I sat there, wondering what he was thinking about just at that very moment, pondering the mystery of little kids' minds. Just as I'd arrived at the conclusion that I would never really know what happens between his ears, he told me.
"Imma," he said, very seriously, "I needa bang someping. What can I bang?"
Monday, February 18, 2008
Tanking up
Last night, Avtalyon slept from 1 am till 7 am.
Now, in general I would not think that this was a good thing. Newborns need to eat, often, and Avtalyon is still only five days past his due date. He's also been pretty sick. For him, not waking up to eat has been a sign that he isn't doing well, and I've been waking him up regularly if he doesn't do it himself.
But last night, I wasn't worried, because for the last few days he's gotten into a routine of tanking up in a serious way between about 7 pm and 1 am. As in, nursing about half of the time. He'll nurse seriously for twenty minutes, nap for fifteen minutes or half an hour or 45 minutes, wake up again, eat until he passes out, etc. While this practice takes a serious toll on my Lansinoh supply, it means that I am much less nervous about letting him sleep as much as he wants at night--especially since he tends to do it again, although not quite as intensely, from whenever he wakes up until about three hours later. And the fact that he turns out loaded diapers on a regular basis, and is steadily gaining an ounce or so a day, also has me less inclined to wake him.
Other nursing-related story of the day (Ellen, you will like this): this evening, Barak and Iyyar and Avtalyon and I went over to Chana's house to have the Lego party I mentioned yesterday. When we got home, it was already past bedtime (they'd had dinner there) and I was trying to move the boys along to bed as quickly as I could--when Avtalyon woke up and demanded to nurse, NOW. That happened just as Barak, who is being kind of emotionally needy lately, was hanging on me asking me to put on his pajamas (which he is perfectly capable of doing himself). I sighed inwardly. "Barak, either you can get your pajamas on yourself or Abba can do it. I have to nurse the baby now. Abba can help you put on your pajamas, but he can't nurse the baby, so I need to nurse the baby now."
Barak thought about this. "Abba can't nurse the baby 'cause he doesn't have dose," he said, putting both hands squarely on my breasts. "Abba doesn't have dose for nursing the baby."
I like to think I recovered very nicely from being, um, not groped exactly, but touched in a rather surprising way by my three-year-old. "Right, Abba doesn't have those for nursing the baby," I agreed. It actually didn't bother me at all, although Abba was slightly horrified by the story later.
Last nursing tale of the day (I promise)--earlier this week I was sitting on the floor nursing Avtalyon (like I said, I do this a lot...) when Iyyar came up to inspect the goings-on. He looked at Avtalyon, and checked out where his mouth was. He watched for a little while. He gave the matter some thought. Then he plopped down next to me, pointed at my breast, and said, absolutely clearly, "I want that!" Sorry, sweetie, your turn at that is over.
Now, in general I would not think that this was a good thing. Newborns need to eat, often, and Avtalyon is still only five days past his due date. He's also been pretty sick. For him, not waking up to eat has been a sign that he isn't doing well, and I've been waking him up regularly if he doesn't do it himself.
But last night, I wasn't worried, because for the last few days he's gotten into a routine of tanking up in a serious way between about 7 pm and 1 am. As in, nursing about half of the time. He'll nurse seriously for twenty minutes, nap for fifteen minutes or half an hour or 45 minutes, wake up again, eat until he passes out, etc. While this practice takes a serious toll on my Lansinoh supply, it means that I am much less nervous about letting him sleep as much as he wants at night--especially since he tends to do it again, although not quite as intensely, from whenever he wakes up until about three hours later. And the fact that he turns out loaded diapers on a regular basis, and is steadily gaining an ounce or so a day, also has me less inclined to wake him.
Other nursing-related story of the day (Ellen, you will like this): this evening, Barak and Iyyar and Avtalyon and I went over to Chana's house to have the Lego party I mentioned yesterday. When we got home, it was already past bedtime (they'd had dinner there) and I was trying to move the boys along to bed as quickly as I could--when Avtalyon woke up and demanded to nurse, NOW. That happened just as Barak, who is being kind of emotionally needy lately, was hanging on me asking me to put on his pajamas (which he is perfectly capable of doing himself). I sighed inwardly. "Barak, either you can get your pajamas on yourself or Abba can do it. I have to nurse the baby now. Abba can help you put on your pajamas, but he can't nurse the baby, so I need to nurse the baby now."
Barak thought about this. "Abba can't nurse the baby 'cause he doesn't have dose," he said, putting both hands squarely on my breasts. "Abba doesn't have dose for nursing the baby."
I like to think I recovered very nicely from being, um, not groped exactly, but touched in a rather surprising way by my three-year-old. "Right, Abba doesn't have those for nursing the baby," I agreed. It actually didn't bother me at all, although Abba was slightly horrified by the story later.
Last nursing tale of the day (I promise)--earlier this week I was sitting on the floor nursing Avtalyon (like I said, I do this a lot...) when Iyyar came up to inspect the goings-on. He looked at Avtalyon, and checked out where his mouth was. He watched for a little while. He gave the matter some thought. Then he plopped down next to me, pointed at my breast, and said, absolutely clearly, "I want that!" Sorry, sweetie, your turn at that is over.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
7 lb 2 oz!
I think I completely neglected to mention the whole thing about the baby not gaining weight. When I took him in to the pediatrician two days after we got out of the hospital, she pointed out that he'd lost two ounces since then. She wanted us to bring him back in in two days for a weight check, which I wasn't so into, given the weather, lack of car, &c. So I borrowed a baby scale and for the last two weeks have been waking the baby up every three hours (four at night) to make him eat whether he wants to or not. Much sadistic diaper-changing, tummy-tickling, and clothing-changing has been involved, and even--gasp--the occasional mean mean mean bath. It took a while to get him moving back in the right direction--he stayed at around 6 lb 4 oz for another few days, which delayed his bris by another few days, but B"H he has been moving up at least an ounce a day since
Anyway, as of this evening he is past his birthweight--woohoo! So, celebrating with a picture of Avtalyon modeling the very lovely baby blanket knit for him by Grandma E. I ended up not blocking it--it is an allover rib pattern, and in its unblocked state it is a nice squishy mat for putting on the floor for the baby to lie on.
I didn't really say anything about the bris, did I. It was nice, and the part I was most worried about--getting all of us to the shul by 7:30 am in subzero weather and a foot of snow, sans car--went over fine. I got the boys up at 6:30 and Barak, with his eyes on the prize ("We're gonna eat cake at the bris, right Imma?") was extremely cooperative. The baby cried less at the bris than he does at an average diaper change, and I was hiding in the shul kitchen with Barak, who was taking turns with his buddy climbing up and down the stepstool he found in there. As happened last time, my friend Chana ran around doing all the practical stuff for me--buying the paper goods and the orange juice, and setting up the night before, etc. By way of thanks I ordered her kids some goodies off of lego.com, and tomorrow we are going over there to have a Lego party with everybody--for which Barak and I made a castle cake this afternoon.
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