11.17.05
Posted in Noah, Misc. Thoughts at 1:28 pm by Chelle
As an adult, you have very little use for snow (unless you’re an avid skiier, I suppose). It’s cold, it’s messy, it gets in the way of putting up Christmas lights and driving your car. It means shoveling the driveway and sidewalk, sometimes more than once a day. It means it takes twice as long to get anywhere. Most people I know greet the arrival of snow with disgust. Nope, we have no use for snow unless we get to stay inside and look at it.
That is, until you have little children. Not too little, though. I remember trying to point out our first snow of the year to Noah when he was just 1. He looked outside but seemed relatively indifferent to it. I’m not even sure he knew what I was talking about. By the time he turned two, it was something curious, but that’s about it. Adventures in snow pants were more an excercise in frustration. By the time he was all bundled up he looked more like an animated pile of clothing than anything else. One that couldn’t move very well, tripped constantly, and couldn’t get back up on its own. Last year was slightly better. This year, however, it’s different.
It’s snowing this morning, our first of the year. It’s more a spitting of little tiny flakes that you can barely see, that melt before even hitting the ground, but hey, it’s still snow. I pointed this out to Noah. “Hey Noah, look outside. What’s falling from the sky?” Instant wonder. His face was transformed. “It’s snow! It’s winter now!”… followed by “I want my snow boots”. Hey, if it’s snowing, aren’t footwear called snow boots appropriate? Who cares if the only thing on the ground are leaves. This was followed by “it’s Christmas time!”. Yes, in about a month it will be Christmas, but first we need to have Thanksgiving. Apparently, who cares about Thanksgiving. “Santa’s coming!”. I don’t know where he got this. Although he knows who Santa is, we don’t teach him that Santa brings his presents. Presents come from mommies and daddies and grandmas and grandpas and aunts and uncles. Santa is just the guy we see in the mall sometimes. And then he rushed upstairs and put on his Christmas cd and hummed along.
I can remember this happening to me when I was in 1st grade or so. We got our first snow of the year as I was playing down the street with my friend Glorianne. Now that I think on it, I have no clue if I spelled her name correctly. Unlike Noah, I couldn’t read by the age of 2. Anyway, we were outside playing and the same sort of spitting, tiny, barely-seen snowflakes started falling. I ran all the way down the street, rushed into our house, and started going through the closet. Mom asked what I was doing. I was getting my snowsuit, of course. Mom said I didn’t need it. Yes, I did, it was snowing! And while in the back of my head I think I knew we weren’t going to end up with feet, or even inches of snow, it was my way of celebrating winter. The joys of being outside and making snowballs and snow-angels and eating icicles. The thrills of climbing the big piles of snow that were made on the edges of the school parking lot by the snowplows. The silliness of slipping and sliding around like crazy people, and trying to catch snowflakes on your tongue. The knowledge that Christmas was just around the corner.
So, who cares if it’s not going to stick. Who cares if we’re not even going outside. Maybe I should let him run around in snow boots this afternoon. And although I only really appreciate winter from the inside, maybe I should try to see it through Noah’s eyes. Someday he’ll grump about winter, too. But for now, it’s magical.
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11.08.05
Posted in General, Elisabeth at 6:19 am by Chelle
Shortly after having Noah, I remember reading in a parenting magazine about how something rarely talked about (namely, poop) becomes one of the central conversation topics in your home after having a child. I found it amusing until I realized that yes, it’s true. Once you have children, the subject of poop is no longer off-limits. At any time, really. You can frequently hear around our house “did he poop today?”, “how was it?”, “we need to buy bananas”, or “he needs prunes for snack”. All of this in relation to Noah, of course. The conversations regarding Elisabeth have some slight variations. “Did she poop?”, “How was it?”, “What color was it?”, “how much?”. There’s also the discussion of texture, and comparisons to mashed potatoes, pudding, peanut butter. Then, of course, there are the conversations revolving around which brand and style of diaper best contains the “poop explosions” that Elisabeth sometimes has, and the resulting conversations about how best to pre-treat and wash the clothing that was the unfortunate casualty of the explosion. Noah has picked up this phrasing - when he tells me that Elisabeth has pooped, he now says “she exploded”. I have no idea if he knows what he’s talking about. It’s amazing that Noah doesn’t have bad dreams about his baby sister spontaneously combusting.
Elisabeth has managed to catch a virus that Noah had or has. While in Noah it’s respiratory, in Elisabeth it’s presenting as abdominal. As a result, Dan and I tackled what seemed like a tag-team diaper marathon yesterday morning. No less than 7 poopy diapers in just under an hour. Then the conversations became something like this:
(after 2 poops)
“I’m getting worried about this”
“Well, she didn’t poop last night”
(another poop)
“It’s sort of green”
“No, it’s yellow”
“No, it’s not. It’s green. And it’s wet. That’s diahrrea.”
“No, it’s yellow. But it is wet.”
(another poop)
“That’s definitely green. If you put mustard next to it, it would look green. What do you think, spinach colored?”
“No way, that is not spinach colored. That’s like dark green. This is too yellow.”
(another poop)
“Ok, now I think you should call the doctor”
(another poop)
“Maybe we should take a picture with the digital camera to show the doctor”
(I don’t think I said anything. How do you respond to that?)
Then later, in the car…
“Ok, so what, like avacado color?”
“No, there’s not enough yellow”
“You keep saying it’s yellow, it’s not yellow!”
“No, I mean avacado doesn’t have enough yellow in it”
Then, in the doctor’s office, Dan looked around and found a picture of kids playing in the grass. He proceeded to try to find the shade of grass that best described the appropriate shade of poop. (This from the person insisting it was yellow).
- Completely aside, I think Dan sees the world in shades of yellow. We’ve had a long-running argument about our CREAM-COLORED house being yellow.-
Incidentally, our pediatrician told us that the majority of phone calls she handles are in some regard to poop. Too much, too little, color, consistency, etc. Seems we’re not the only ones who talk about poop all day. What’s ironic is that while this takes up a good portion of your day, you won’t find parenting forums or chat rooms devoted to baby poop, and the subject is rarely discussed with other parents. Perfectly acceptable to discuss your child’s poop over the dinner table with your spouse, but not in company. It’s the unspoken baby poop rules, apparently. One would think that if more parents would discuss their children’s poop with other parents, the poor doctor wouldn’t have to talk about somebody else’s poop all day. I wonder if she has nightmares about baby poop. It’s a wonder that we don’t, really.
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11.05.05
Posted in General, Misc. Thoughts at 11:49 am by Chelle
When you wash children’s clothing, you aren’t supposed to use fabric softener of any sort. That includes dryer sheets, which I’ve always used on my clothing. Apparently it ruins the flame-retardancy of the clothing. I’m not really anticipating a fire in the near future, but not being a big fan of toasted baby, I am refraining from adding the dryer sheet. Unfortunately, that means stiff and scratchy clothing. Not really scratchy, but definitely not the soft and fuzzy, fluffy stuff that I would imagine feels much better against a little baby’s skin. So the other day I went researching alternate methods of softening clothing. Dan suggested throwing a bucket full of rocks into the dryer along with the clothing. While I’m sure that would beat any residual stiffness out of the clothes, I think the neighbors would appreciate some sleep. Anyway… while researching dryer sheets, I came across some rather scary information. It seems that they contain all sorts of hazardous and toxic chemicals known to cause respiratory and central nervous system problems, as well as being carcinogenic. All these wonderful products remain on your clothing so you’re free to inhale them all day while wearing said clothing. Why on earth would anyone use such a thing? For soft and fluffy clothes, of course. What’s a little dizziness when compared with clothing that doesn’t snag on your skin? Who cares if you pass out while walking through the park, as long as you have that pillow-soft clothing to cushion your fall?
It turns out the natural solution to my problem is vinegar, which you add to the rinse cycle. This supposedly softens the clothing as well as breaks down any residual soap, meaning your clothes end up cleaner and softer. Ironically, we do have vinegar in our laundry room, but previously its use has been for the removal of cat urine. So now I can comfort myself with the knowledge that I will have a non-flammable, softly-clothed baby. And if, by chance, one of our cats mistakes her for a litter pan, well… now that’s covered, too.
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Posted in General, Elisabeth at 6:38 am by Chelle
It is currently 6:28 AM. A fairly reasonable time for someone to be up in the morning, right? Wrong. At least for me it’s so wrong. I am not a morning person by nature. Never have been (except for undocumented claims by my mother of my infanthood. I don’t remember it, you can’t prove it!).
I have been attempting to fix Elisabeth’s sleep schedule, meaning lots of frustration on both of our parts. So far it’s been slow going. In my limited successes in getting her to bed at a somewhat reasonable hour (which at this point is anytime before 6 am in my opinion), I forgot to address the fact that I am used to being awake at night now. I’ve always been a night person, but not since my days of college have I been so often awake until sunrise. So now my family is sleeping peacefully. Elisabeth woke to nurse at around 5 this morning and promptly went back to sleep. I, however, lay there wide awake, because as my body now knows well, when I wake up, I need to WAKE UP. I have become so accustomed to grabbing sleep when I can that now there is no such thing as a regular nighttime sleep pattern. Isn’t sleep training supposed to work the other way around??
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11.04.05
Posted in General, Noah, Dan at 8:31 pm by Chelle
Noah is generally calm (though he has his moments) during the day at home with me. But anywhere from 30 seconds before (when he spots the car pulling into the driveway) to 5 minutes after Dan comes home, Noah goes nuts. He runs all over the place, is very loud, and is generally just insane. Sometimes to the point of getting into trouble, because it seems he just can’t control his excess of sudden energy. This typically lasts until he goes to bed at night. What is it about kids that they express their joy in such outrageous fashion? Even Elisabeth will now hear Daddy’s voice and her eyes light up. As soon as she sees him she starts wiggling everywhere and will “talk” her head off with that little nonsense baby voice. It’s interesting to note that while Elisabeth seems adorable when she reacts like this, Noah’s behavior has become almost annoying. I really think if she had the ability, she’d be doing the same thing. And then of course there’s Tigger, who trumps them all when it comes to pure frantic, uncontrollable energy. When it comes down to it, it’s really a nice sign on all of their parts that they love their Daddy and are excited to see him. While Noah’s reaction can sometimes cause trouble and be aggravating, it’s really an expression of his love for his father. It’s sort of sad, when you think about it, that most of us have lost this way of expressing our joy. We may smile or laugh, or our mood might lighten a bit, but who of us gets up and does a little dance when we see someone we love again? Dan would probably think I’d lost my mind if I started yelling “Dan! Dan! Dan’s home!” when he walks in the door, then proceed to run around like I was on drugs, play frantically with whatever I came into contact with, and jumped and crawled all over him. Although… he might like that last part. Except for the random drooling, of course.
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Posted in Uncategorized at 8:55 am by Chelle
And so it begins… with little fanfare, no earth-shattering news, here is my first post.
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