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Crazy Tired

Have you ever been so exhausted that you really think you might be losing it I am? Really. I really think I'm losing it.

Let's begin with the exhaustion of pregnancy. Only a pregnant woman, woman who has been pregnant, or someone suffering from som severe sympathy pains, understands what I'm talking about. It's the feeling that any second if you don't take a nap, you might keel over or kill someone. Sometimes, I'm able to relinquish the need to go out on 95th street with a sharp object and bag full of rocks by taking a quick nap while Jack is napping. However, lately, he doesn't often nap. Heck, let's face it, my kid can survive on partying-rockstar-internet addict sleep.

This leads me to my next source of exhaustion. The I-transitioned-my-child-to-a-toddler-bed- situation-and-it-was-an-awesome-novelty-for-a-week-but-now-he-won't-stay-in-the-bed sydrome. I think it's worse than the I-have-a-newborn-who-is-attached-to-my-boob-and-screams-for-hours-at-a-time disease. I'm moments away from reassembling the crib, however I think we need to keep that for the next child who is coming this summer. My next thought is to put him in a realy big boy bed. A twin-size sucker with new sheets, spread, the whole works and make it super special for him. Heck he loves mommy and daddy's big kid bed for naps and morning cuddles but will this solve the problem?

Something has got to give.

It's 8 p.m., we did our winding down routine and we know that he's exhausted. He wants to go "nigh-nigh." He gets in his bed, he closes his eyes and then 10 minutes later, we hear the thump, pat, pat, pat and then he hangs over the gate (we had to put up because then he comes downstairs during mine and Dan's alone time (we're eating ice cream here people)) and screams, "Dada, mama" over and over again. So we ignore it for a while and then it's quiet. We are at ease for a moment. Then we go upstairs for bed and see the light on, the books all over the floor and a container of empty (might I add expensive biodegradable) wipes and our wide-eyed wee one sitting there staring a good hour or so past his bedtime.

It doesn't stop there.

Sometimes we have to do the jack in the box routine 10-17 times a night. We are religious about following the "Healthy Sleep Habits. . ." no talking, put him back in bed routine. Then once he's in there and we think it's over, an hour, sometimes two or three later, he needs us again. Sometimes it's a quick cuddle and back in the sack. Other times it's a long drawn-out series of in-out, in-out, in-out until we are all so tired we give up, and throw him in bed with us. Sometimes it works, he passes out, we pass out, the dog continues snoring. Other times, he thinks it's time to play or watch a show or he cries that the dog is in his way, I yell at the dog, Dan somehow sleeps through this, I yell at Dan. Someone ends up on the couch and if it's me, then it's me and Jack.

Are you tired yet?

So if I'm not tired by those things then comes the exhaustion of just life. Worrying if I put my kid in the right pre-school, will we have enough money this year to get new windows, did I put in the request on the bank site to pay the doctor's bill, what is that sound in the car and why is that red light still on, what's for dinner, do I need to make a will, who will get my children, will the next baby be a horrible sleeper. . .

Will I lose it before then, have I lost it already?

I Don't Want to be Outnumbered

So my latest pastime has been barfing or gagging or dealing with a constant state of nausea or lamenting about either one of those activities and probably annoying my friends, husband and parents and of course depriving little Jack of an energetic, fun-filled mom (not that I ever claimed those things to be 100% sufficient before).

So that's probably why I haven't been posting lately, and I'm sure all of you are just devastated by my lack of prose for your reading pleasure. Also, if you didn't get the idea before, I'm preggo too. Yep, knocked up, with child and experiencing, you have my word, my last and most life disrupting preganancy that will come to a conclusion right around Jack's 3rd birthday, July 20th or so.

I know I've gotten the, "But it's all worth it in the end." and the "Don't say your done until it's over." But really, I love Jack, I already love my unborn baby, however, I'm not a masochist and I don't see myself going through this again. My pregnancy with Jack was happily uneventful. I believe I was nauseous for about a week, I had a cold that knocked me out but really, lying on the couch unable to work and watching tv for a week with the dog, was nothing like having a toddler, lying on the couch and being jumped on and yelled at to "Wun, wun."

Plus, as stated in my title, as discussed with my friend Melissa, Dan's old co-worker Steve and others, I don't want to be outnumbered. One kid per one adult seems to be more than enough, especially considering how much time and energy my 2 1/2 year old can drain out of me, even on a non-pregnant day.

So here we are, hopefully back on the writing wagon, because I've missed it, I'm feeling a little bit better and well, I'm working a lot and have a tad bit of freetime in front of a computer.

Why Eat, Pray, Love is overrated

Just because I'm a librarian doesn't make me the foremost expert on all books. Let's be honest, reading is a very subjective hobby, there is no wrong way to read, there is no wrong book to read. The worst thing you can do however is not read.

Last Wednesday I hit up my girl Shannon for some much needed highlights for my serious case of outgrowth and to put a little more va-voom back into my usual bob do. She mentioned she read Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. I rolled my eyes. I hated that book. I don't normally hate books, it's against my religion, but really that book was painful to read to have to look at an know I just couldn't stand it. She loved it, good for her, I know a lot of people do and for crying out loud it has the almighty Oprah stamp of approval too. Hey Julia Roberts will be playing the lead role this coming year in the movie version. Its popular, it gets to the center of our beings focusing on our needs for satisfying our physical spiritual and emotional selves, I get it really. Her other client who was there suggested it. She thought there was something wrong with me that I didn't L-O-V-E that book, her comment was that "Its been on like the New York Times Bestseller Lists for like 3 years or something." Why yes that's how I judge whether a book is good or not, a list compiled by the brains of this world and their purchasing powers. (Yeah Anne Coulter and Rush Limbaugh have been on that list too but I wouldn't tend to mark those as good reads either).

Sooooo, what's my beef with this book. It's selfish, it's self-centered, it's irrational and unreasonable. Yeah we can all say that about a lot of books, that's why we read, to take us into the abyss of another world, to disappear, to find ourselves. That's cool, but for me, being a biography, its just not real to me. I'm so sorry this chick had a bad marriage (I've seen that happen to a lot of people). I'm so sorry she lost her faith in herself, love and life. But really, running away for month to regain all of these losses to expensive far ends of the earth. Sounds kind of like overdoing it to me. I relate it to dieting with a program that forces you to eat their food. What happens the second you get to goal, the moment you come back to reality and are around normal everyday situations and food, you gain it all back. Congrats Valerie Bertinelli for your ability to maintain, but egads when Thanksgiving rolls around I will be applying butter to mine and counting the ones that are forming around my midriff (or lack there of). So here's my thing. Deal with your crap here at home, find your happiness in everyday life, the one that you own and are a part of everyday. Do you need to run and hide and eat gnocchi and live in a temple and drink possibly malaria infested water to get back to who you are? If you do, good for you, I'm glad you have the time, the fortune (both literally and figuratively) and freedom to do so. For us here in the real world, we take meds and meditate in the minutes we have of our lives and get back to living and finding our happiness in ourselves, our families, our friends and our food (oh gracious scone fairy, where art thou?)

I'm really happy though that so many people are reading however, its makes me feel all warm inside.

Tales of Chip Squints - Part 1

So for those of you that don't know Jack fell and chipped his tooth. Really good. Like southern Alabama Yokel, "Hey maw, get off the dang roof good."

So after much deliberation (actually many phone calls to dentists, pediatric dentists and my insurance company - no, we don't need health care reform at all do we? Especially since I have a PPO I should go anywhere I damn well want to right?) I brought him in for a check up to make sure there is no root or nerve damage. Have you ever taken a 2 year-old to the dentist? No? Hmm, I'd rather have a root canal without any novocaine. I'd rather gouge my eyes out with a melon baller. I'd rather, well anything worse than those things, would be taking a 2 year-old to the dentist.

First of all, the dentist wasn't so bad. But my kid doesn't know this dude and he's got rubber gloves on and he's jamming his fingers into Jack's mouth, so yeah, that's kind of scary. Then one assistant comes over and holds Jack's head, another one holds down his legs and I hold his arms down. He's basically Hannibal Lecter at this point and since he's too busy screaming and gasping for air to let this guy look at his mouth, they have to take a metal tool, that looks like an object I saw at another doctors office (let's just say men don't every have to use this ever and it normally doesn't go near the north end of your body). So the examining is over. We breathe, we hug, we rock a little (I need it too at this point).

Round 2

So now to get the sharp edge off they have to file things down. The little tool looks like a dremel with a doll sized nail fine on it. Jack gets back into mummification pose and the scene begins all over. (Can I tell you my dad is in the waiting room and I'm waiting for him to come through the wall and the sizeable screams my kid is wailing out). Okay, quick, painful and now we have to decide if Jack gets a bond to make the tooth look normal, because that particular tooth, the one right in the front, doesn't come out until he's 7 or 8 (I thought 5 or 6 but boys are slower at everything). We are traumatized at this point and considering the hassle we went through to find a pediatric dentist that would take my awesome PPO, I think we will wait until we get our tax refund. So look for more tales of Chip Squints to come.

By the way, the squints part comes from the fact that everytime you ask my kid to smile and show his teeth, his eyes become little slivers blocked by his righteous lashes.

You make this house a hole.

As quoted by my husband the other day when trying to clean one area of our house it seems we make a disaster of another. We decided to sell our son's old bedroom set on craigslist and funnily enough sold it to the manager of my local Target. Anyhow, the dude came, saw, paid and left with all of the pieces and I was stuck with two dressers worth of clothes and crap all over the bedroom floor, in the closet, stuck in corners I didn't know existed. It was kind of cathartic in a way. We bought that bedroom furniture the March before Dan and I got married. It made the move with us to the house then went into Jack's room when we decided to do a whole Container Store Elpha system in our closet. When I started emptying things out I found swaddlers, blankets, binky holders, clothes that don't fit anymore or are summer clothes, and realized how quick time passes and how much crap one can accumulate in such a short time.

With cash in hand we headed to Target over the weekend to buy some storage bins and the cubicles with fabric drawers and a bookshelf to downsize Jack's room into more of a toddler area. We ran into the manager who really knew that I meant what I said when I shop there a lot. Back at home around 9 p.m. we decided to put the furniture together (I've only bought 3 pieces of furniture in my life that did not require assembly and I just sold it). So in order to organize one little boys room we had to disassemble our lives for a while and although it was frustrating and unorganized we came away with the things that we really needed. A place for him to sleep, a shelf to put all of his books on and something to hold his piggy bank and a light. It's quaint, it's cozy, and it's home.

That hasn't happened in a long time

Okay, I guess I have to be mushy for a second. First of all, a brief history. Jack has never been a super sleeper. Months of colic. Sleepless nights, sleepless days. Nap skipping, night waking, early risings, yep, according to my mom, he sure did take after me. He has his shining moments sometimes: random 3 hour naps, letting us sleep in until 7:15 on a Sunday, but those days are few and far between. Today will be added to that precious list. We came home after an evening at my parents house and Jack was ready for a binky, ready for stories, and I am ready for his stalling tactics (saying he has to go potty, needing a drink of water, wanting one more story, the light on, the light off, the door open, the door closed; and remember, he's only 2). Well two stories into our evening I felt a little bit more pressure on my chest, a little nasal snorkle, and my baby was passed out. When's the last time I was able to hold my sleeping kid in my arms, and how much longer will I be able to. Alright, break out the "I'll love you forever" book and a box of kleenex and I'm good to go.