jaysaint Getting it all down on paper…

Alden has laryngitis and it is hilarious. He opens his little baby mouth and out falls Harvey Fierstein. There is a new kind of charm to his “Mama!” right now. We’re on day five and I have the odd sensation that I can’t quite remember his unaffected voice. As much mileage as I’m getting out of all this, I finally thought perhaps there is something I could do to hasten his return to normal. We’ve hit all the obvious highlights — lots of fluids and a humidifier in the bedroom. But I’m always eager to learn. My friends, do not Google “baby laryngitis.” Good grief, I was ready to race to the ER in the hopes of preventing my baby’s imminent suffocation. Then I got a grip and went back to thinking it’s funny. He’s got a checkup in two weeks and I’d bet cash money I forget to even mention it then.

Now for some miscellanea:

— Speaking of cash money, I actually laid some out to subscribe to a weekly menu/recipe service. How sad is that? I have a million cookbooks that I love. I’m a good cook. And yet I keep finding myself at home after work saying “Uhhhhh” when confronted with my kitchen. That’s Damon’s cue to say “We can just forage.” That means I will make pasta and he will make popcorn and Alden will get peas or broccoli and veggie sausage. I just couldn’t get over the hurdle of coming up with the ideas, either daily or collectively on the weekend. So, lame as that is, the service works for us. Last night we had tilapia on parmesan polenta with some sauteed broccoli and bok choy. It took no time to make, was healthful, and all three of us loved it.

— We are overflowing with Christmas gifts, for which we are very grateful. But. I think in 2009 we will have to make a rule of “no gifts bigger than the kid” or “nothing he can ride.” Something to help keep the bulk down. It’s hard, because sometimes a huge gift is just so great. When Alden was born my dad sent the biggest stuffed bear I’ve ever seen. I treasure it. But I also know my Aunt had to step in to keep him from filling out a whole life-sized menagerie. So instead he gave him a bulldozer big enough to actually ride. So cute. Alden loves it. My mom gave him a modern-y IKEA rocker/see saw. My mother-in-law gave him a music table with four stations. my sister-in-law gave him a five-foot-long stuffed orange tiger-striped snake. My other sister-in-law gave him a train set. None of this includes the dozens of stuffed animals, books, blocks, and other fun stuff. All truly, truly appreciated. Still. The number and bulk of toys in this house is giving me agita. Wild horses could not compel me to tell which one of the above gifts has already found its way to Good Will, but I’ll bet you can guess.

— House guests. We have recently both had and been. In both cases it was fun and conflict free. But I’m stuck on the point of how to kit out a bathroom for visitors. I always assumed that my views on everyone’s roles and responsibilities were universal among the reasonable (Isn’t that always the way?), but I see this is not so. Here’s what I think…
A host is responsible to provide:
— shampoo and conditioner
— a fresh wash cloth per day and towel per two to three days
— liquid soap or a new bar in the shower
— hand soap on the sink
— toothpaste
— hair dryer
It is nice, but not required, to provide:
— mouthwash
— floss
— hand towels
— bath fancies (bubble bath, facial wash, body scrubs)
— QTips
— lotion
Guests must bring for themselves:
— toothbrush
— razor (if desired)
— shower puff (if desired)
— hair products (although I think it’s fine to sample anything your host has left in plain sight)
— hairbrush
— Anything they need that they don’t see on this list
(Guests may not use the hosts’ toothbrush, razor, or shower puff)

You would think this list is inspired by some bad behavior on someone’s part, but it’s really inspired by Damon. He packs for us when we travel. I am not allowed to place any item inside any bag. I am told to put everything I want to bring on the bed and that Damon will take it from there. So I’m sometimes surprised to see what he’s brought along. As far as bathrooms are concerned, I suspect he would wrench off the vanity sink and bring it along if he thought he could hook it up at our destination. I’m confident he could find a way to fit it in the suitcase. He brings big bottles of shampoo. Soap. Toothpaste. Hair dryer. It’s like he thinks we’re going camping. To me, part of the fun of getting ready in a strange bathroom is trying out a new shampoo or soap, tasting a new toothpaste (always careful to never touch the tube to the bristles). I’m always a little deflated when someone comes here with a full toiletry kit because I want them to smell my latest shampoo and then talk to me about rosemary mint versus camomile (That’s how they choose to spell it and who am I to tell them no?) It’s a nice part of traveling to try new things, even in such a small way. I have been known to pick hotels on the strength of their soaps.

Am I nutty, or is Damon?

— Finally, in case anyone is still reading, I see my new ob/gyn tomorrow and will talk to her about what she thinks it would take to knock me up. I am specifically going to ask about Clomid and repeating the HSG. And we’re working on night weaning, but not total weaning. Which is where I’m comfortable right now, I think. It was a cruel joke this month that I picked up a mild stomach virus that felt uncannily like morning sickness. That came along on day 27 of my cycle and I had one day of “OMG what if….” And then, no.

Oh, next time I want to talk about TiVo.

Tomorrow we leave for Cincinnati. I am watching old sitcoms and pretending that I’ve packed and otherwise prepared the house for our departure. In all honesty, I haven’t even really given the trip much thought beyond making sure all the books I want make it into the car. I guess that shows where my priorities lie. My gifts? They’re not wrapped. Not a one. A few weeks ago I was basking in the glory of having completed all my shopping. And then, I just didn’t wrap anything. Or get boxes. Or paper. And now we leave tomorrow with a stack of unwrapped gifts. We got my mom a paper and wood sculptural deer head. (It’s seriously cool, even though I made it sound awful). Think I’ll have a box for that laying around?

On an unrelated note, after a five-month wait I will finally see my new ob/gyn next week. I know she will tell me, considering my age and how difficult it was to get pregnant with Alden, that if I want any hope of a second baby that I will need to wean him. I’m beyond conflicted about this. I know lots of women get pregnant while nursing. I also I know I can’t afford any disadvantages. But it’s certainly possible I won’t be able to get pregnant anyway. And Alden is nowhere near ready. A friend has a family connection to a very well-respected RE and she asked him about me. He said to weigh what is ultimately better for Alden, nursing now or life with a sibling forever. I take his point. Still…

Alden has developed a quirky (gross) habit at the dinner table. Or rather, two habits that amount to the same thing. First is that if he doesn’t seem to consider himself fully committed to a bite of food until it’s swallowed. So, for example, imagine he’s eating a piece of cheese and you put a bean down in front of him. He will stop chewing while he contemplates the bean. If he decides the bean has more appeal than the cheese, he’ll sweep the cheese out of his mouth and put it back on his plate and then go for the bean. The second is new as of last night. I gave him some corkscrew pasta with pesto, which he loved. He loved the pesto so much that he would put a piece of pasta in his mouth, swish and suck until it was clean, and then daintily pluck the pasta out of his mouth and then go for the next piece. In both cases, he isn’t flinging and he isn’t spitting. He’s almost dainty about the whole process. So we’re working on “Food stays in your mouth.” but it’s kind of a hard concept for him. Particularly because I do let him spit out a new food if he doesn’t like it. It’s also a little bit funny to me to watch him line up sparkling clean pasta bits on his plate.

Tonight we’re having new friends over for dinner. They have two kids — two and six. We went to their house last weekend and they had a lovely lasagna for the grownups and cheese pizza with steamed veggies for the kids. I’m wondering what to make in return. I want to be easy and casual. I want to make sure the kids will like their dinner. I usually just feed Alden whatever we’re eating, so I don’t have much of a kiddie menu repetoire. Maybe I’ll make a mac and cheese and peas, or something along those lines. I asked their mom and she wrote back, “Make whatever you want. The kids can always eat bread and water!” which cracked me up and made me love her but didn’t bring me any closer to knowing what her kids will like. So I think, yes, mac and cheese and veggies. As for the grownups, who knows? But I’ve got a few hours and I’m not so worried about that one.

Sticking to my food theme, I’m about to dip my toe into cookie making that just inches beyond scooping ready-made dough. I’m a terrible baker. Terrible. I have no idea what I’m doing. I am imprecise and improvesational in the kitchen. I lack discipline. But these cookies are dark chocolate and peppermint and they looked so, so delicious. And since I haven’t seen them in the store, the only way I will to eat them is if I bake them. I’m invited to a wine party and cookie swap tomorrow so the goal is to make them in time to hit a bakery if they’re a failure.

There are those moments where my kid is so cute that I question if I’m really seeing what I think I’m seeing. But I’m pretty sure that a few nights ago:

I was sleeping between Alden and Damon. Normally Alden sleeps in the middle, but some weird combination of nursing contortions put him on the outside. It’s not a big deal, we’re still sleeping on a mattress on the floor.

(Why is a long, boring story. And I’m sure you’re thinking that I’ve never shown any restraint before when it comes to long and boring. But this story is boring even to me, as it involves things like storage units, and that is saying something. I have a low threshold for amusement.)

Anyway. My mama radar wakes me up and I open my eyes. I can just see Alden’s face. He’s barely lit by the iPod dock, which casts a small circle of dim light on the side of the bed. I see that Alden’s eyes are open, and he’s looking at Zoe. She’s put her front paws on the side of the bed and is looking back at him. Alden, quiet like a mouse, sits up, puts his legs over the side of the mattress, and slides down onto the floor. They sit together in the little circle of light, Alden gently patting her head. After about 30 seconds he pushes himself back up on to the mattress, rolls up against me, and goes back to sleep.

The sweetness, I can hardly bear it sometimes.

And now for the photos:

You can’t fight the cute.

The littlest guy at the birthday party.

He loves his Christmas tree.

Can someone please explain to me why my kid cries so piteously when I use the nose sucker thingy on him. I know babies don’t like to be restrained. But he gets restrained for other things — diaper changes, nail clips, face washing — that don’t make him so upset. He hates it so much that he drums his heels in frustration and it’s just the saddest thing you’ve ever seen. It only takes about 20 seconds. I’m pretty confident it doesn’t hurt. What? What is the problem?

I love this Momversation video (even though I hate that name)

It particularly made me laugh in juxtaposition with the conversation (See, what’s wrong with that word?) Damon had today at Sprout Studio. Damon had Alden at the water table and they were busily decimating the plastic fish population. Alden is dutifully wearing the the baby raincoat thoughtfully provided. There’s another kid there, about four, unaccompanied. Damon can see three women sitting on the couch across the room, drinking coffee and chatting. Solo kid is half out of his raincoat and half soaked to the bone. At one point he comes up to Damon and asks him to take the coat off him. Damon gets him to confirm that he’s leaving the water table and then helps him out. As soon as the kid is free he runs over and plunges his arms up to the shoulder into the water. It’s right about now that one of the women wanders over and says, “I knew it!” Big sigh. Damon says, “Yeah, I know, it’s amazing how fast they can make a mess, isn’t it?” And mom says, “Well, I *thought* someone was watching him.” Glare.

I guess while most of us wish strangers (and others) would mind their own damn business, there are some among us who expect everyone to be raising their kids.