Today: An Attempt at Silver Linings

Monday morning is theoretically my one "morning off" a week. Will goes to his preschool, Finn goes to his toddler group, and I have roughly 2.5 hours in which to...check the clock and make sure I'm not going to be late for pickup, to be honest. But I also manage to get a few chores around the house done, which makes Monday's nap time a little bit less task-oriented. I've only had a couple of these free periods in the last two months due to various holidays, but today I had one and I...went to the dentist.

I don't mind going to the dentist, but you should know that my teeth are not the greatest. Both my parents have mouths replete with fillings, and I have some of those genes. I also eat more sugary stuff than I should, but Dave can attest that I really do brush my teeth and floss religiously, and I dutifully schedule my six-month cleanings (even when it sucks up my tiny piece of free time).

However, since I became pregnant with Will, my teeth have been in some sort of super-revolt. Pregnant women are known to have more sensitive gums and softer teeth, and I'm certainly not the exception to that rule. With each pregnancy I've gained a couple new pieces of silver. All this to say, at today's appointment, I had three cavities. THREE. 

Silver (no pun intended) lining: My dentist is a two-minute drive from my home; I really like the staff there; if I'm going to have a medical problem, at least it's this one.

When Will started going to preschool in the fall, he happily trotted off to hang out with his friends and teachers, nine days out of ten. When I remarked on it, the director warned me that often the kids who have no transition issues in September pull them out in January instead. I inwardly scoffed. I should have listened to the woman with twenty-five years of experience.

Since Christmas break ended, Will's been crying and saying "I'm nervous" maybe two mornings a week. His teachers send me pictures a few minutes later of him happily playing, and the most irritating part is when I come to pick him up after lunch he crows about how wonderful preschool is. Today when I picked him up, three hours after leaving him tearful at my departure, he literally said to me, "I want to stay at preschool forever. I was just nervous for a second, and then I wasn't anymore!" So I replied, "OK, can you remember that tomorrow morning please?" He agreed, but I'll believe it when I see it.

Silver lining: Per the director's warning, it's normal; at least he's doing it later in the year when I know how much he actually enjoys it, so I'm not second-guessing the preschool itself.

At the end of this long day, I was leaving the Y with Susan, rounding up our various children and winter gear, and I couldn't find Finn's boots. I asked him if he'd been playing with them, we all scoured the family gym, and they were nowhere to be found. Somebody took home (I'm assuming and hoping accidentally) my son's bright blue moon boots. His only pair of winter boots. I'm trying to think positively, that of course the parent who mistakenly put those boots on her kid or didn't notice when the kid put them on will realize and bring them back ASAP. Because if I have to buy a second pair of winter boots so my kid can wear them for maybe another month and then grow out  of them forever--I don't know what I'll do.

Silver lining: Oh, gosh, this is going to be a stretch. Okay, how about: It's been a mild winter, so maybe we can get away without replacement boots? I don't know.

Finally, I'm thirty-two weeks along, and I'm finally resigned to the fact that no part of this pregnancy is going to be enjoyable. Even the baby's movements, which of course I love to see and feel, are actually painful. There are knees and elbows stabbing at my belly button and larger body parts jumping on my bladder. My stomach is so compressed that eating is rarely fun and often uncomfortable in the evening hours. I no longer hit a wall of fatigue at four p.m.; now I wake up exhausted and just plod through the day as best I can.

Silver lining: Labor and the newborn phase are no longer sources of anxiety, but pots of gold at the end of the rainbow. At least in my mind. And don't you dare try to take that away from me!

The Same, Also Different

I've written a few times here about these frequent "revelations" that Little Brother is a whole 'nother human being, separate from Big Brother. In the last few months, though, those "They're different!" moments have dwindled, while the "They really are brothers!" revelations have surged.

As with most things related to having children, their similarities can be wonderful and then sometimes really cruel.

Finn is now following in Will's foosteps when it comes to falling asleep in the car. It's GREAT when we're driving for at least thirty minutes but not more than forty-five; I can count on Finn to fall asleep and then stay asleep once we're parked in our garage (just like Will used to do), but I'm pretty sure I can also keep Will awake so he doesn't have a real-nap-ruining catnap.

Today we didn't go anywhere in the morning, and Finn's nap in the crib was painfully short--half an hour. I figured I'd get him up and really exhaust him for the afternoon nap. Nice try. Half an hour--and ending as I type this. Meanwhile, Will's been going down from 1-3:15 every day, but guess who woke up at 2:30 today? Unh-hunh.

The days of no plans PLUS no solid naps make me feel like a prisoner in my own life. I try to arrange the day around these boys, and then they refuse to be on a regular (Will) or any kind of (Finn) schedule. So I make the executive decision never to be so foolish again, to simply take them out in the car every day, all the time, whatever it takes--but I'm often thwarted there, too.

There is no sure thing, I know, and that's the biggest similarity of all. Both of these kids will be changing things up on me for the rest of their lives, and every day will be different. Some days, though, that's a tough pill to pop.

The Three T's

Teeth.

Traveling.

The Coxsackie virus.

(I know, that last one's not technically a "T.")

The trifecta of new teeth, new self-propulsion abilities, and new challenges to Finn's immune system has slowly and then suddenly crept up on my younger son for the last three weeks. It hit a peak (valley?) this weekend when the virus denied us our planned trip to New Jersey and the incoming teeth and attempts at crawling denied us our sleep--any sleep--on Friday night.

I think the tooth pain is now ebbing, but the determination to crawl (and he really can crawl--mostly backwards on his belly, but sometimes forward and all the way up past his knees onto his FEET) is still waking him up twice a night and roughly every 25 minutes of a nap in the crib.*

As for the virus, the fever's gone but who knows what softer symptoms the kid continues to cope with.

I know this is a theme lately, but Will was so different. His first tooth came weeks AFTER he started to crawl, in his eighth month; we don't have a clue how to handle the disruption of tandem teething and crawling. Oh well, here's to things looking up next week.

*I find that nothing really interrupts his sleep when he's napping in the Ergo, which is probably because of how swaddled-ish he is, and that's wonderful but COME ON KID, you are almost six months old. It is time for some consistent napping!**

**To which Will says: HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA. You fool.

Not Working For Me

Dear William,

When you go to sleep in the car on the way home from the park--

--while your little brother screams his head off one car seat over--

--and I do an abbreviated version of the sing-and-rock naptime routine because your little bro is continuing his quest to embody BOTH the sound AND the proverbial fury, although he has now been placed in the swing--

--and you decide that that twenty minutes in the car that started before the clock hit one? Yeah, that was enough napping for one day, thanks very much--

--and you stand and sit and babble and kiss your stuffed animals and sing Twinkle Twinkle and roll around--

--(yeah, even though I have to admit that that part is moderately-to-extremely adorable)--

--BUT STILL, I then have to go get you 45 minutes later and try to wear you out before three o'clock hits to try for another nap--

--and then, you see where this is going, you refuse to take THAT nap because like I said before, woman, I'm done with naps for the day--

--I start to vacillate between "He needs to be on a take-no-prisoners wake-and-sleep schedule, stat," and "This is my life now. I need to roll with the punches. I guess he isn't napping anymore today."

Right now, as I watch you stand and whine on the monitor, I can honestly say that I've chosen neither the strict schedule nor the New!Flexible!Joanna 2.0! course of action. Instead, I'm just holding on until four, when I can say that I tried and then transfer you to the double stroller for a lllllllllllllllooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnngggggggg walk. Off a short pier. (Who said that?)

Love,

your mother

********************************

Dear Fintan,

Ooh, you're so cute! Love those dimples. Great hair, too.

So, ummmmmm. I don't know how to say this, but I feel I have to be forthright with you: this hating-the-car thing? It's just not working for me. My ears actually feel like they will start bleeding; my eardrums begin to vibrate when your screams go full-throttle. I don't know if it's gas or motion sickness or being restrained or all/none of the above, but man. It is UNPLEASANT.

If your big brother had been an anti-car guy, at least I might feel confident that the blood-curdling noises would dissipate soon; as I have no prior experience with this, I am purely flummoxed. I sincerely don't know what to do with you. And I can't even keep you home or within walking distance--not just because it would be dull, but also because your brother and I both have people to see, places to go--places that require the use of a car to get to.

All that being said, if you came home and actually, you know, SLEPT WELL afterward, then hey, all would be forgiven. But, yeah. You just catnapped all afternoon, had to be ON TOP OF me no less, and worse, you keep pulling out your pacifier and then wailing as if to say, "Who is this monster who keeps snatching away this pacifier? I need that pacifier! I couldn't make out his face, but his hand looks uncannily like my own. BRING BACK MY PACIFIER!"

I want to say, nay, I have in fact said to you out loud, "Then don't take it out!"

But alas, you are four months old and thus too young for the old cause 'n' effect trick. Silly mama!

Love,

your mother

****************************************

Dear boys,

Thanks for falling asleep, Finn. It really means a lot to me, even though you dropped off while nursing and now I have to find some way of detaching myself and--oh look, Will is standing up again and whining so forcefully that he is gagging on drool in his crib. No, wait, now he has flopped in despair on his mattress and retreated into silence. So the question is...is naptime over? Or has it just gone into effect at 4:08 in the afternoon?

Oh, you two. No one can ever say you don't keep me on my toes.

Love,

shdjorbeughflkdshajfhkjbjegjdsryyrurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr [passes out]