lettingherselfgo: shark attack
This story about a fatal shark attack has nothing to do with motherhood, except perhaps to serve as a reminder to never take your children to Florida. Or if you do, stay inland.
lettingherselfgo: Amos isn’t talking
Rodney and I got summoned for our first meeting at school this week. Amos isn’t in trouble or anything like that, but he got some not great results on an assessment and I’m terribly worried. He’s going gangbusters on most stuff but it was revealed that he apparently never talks in class. I mean like, never. He sidles up to the teacher at story time and plays with the other kids and all that, but without making a peep. I had no idea that was the case.
Talking with the therapist confirmed the fears I’ve had since he got his first ear infection at 7 months, that his speech might lag because he basically couldn’t hear for so long. He got tubes at 9 months, but the ear infections continued almost nonstop until we moved him to a new daycare where he doesn’t get sick all the time. The therapist explained what I’d heard before, that basically his ears worked as if he was under water and it’s normal for him to be a bit late on is speech because he’s just recently been hearing things normally. I knew that. But the thought of him going through his days silently makes me so sad. I want him to be brave and loud and demand all the attention he deserves.
If I never put him in daycare, or maybe if I put him in a different one, this wouldn’t be an issue. So of course there is lots of guilt here, the defining emotion of motherhood. The therapist doesn’t seem worried but will retest in May, looking for progress.
lettingherselfgo: giving up on snowmen
Poor Amos. The white stuff on the ground this time is just ice pellets, like an unflavored snowcone that got put in the freezer. No fun at all. Amos’ obsession with building a snowman has passed, I suppose because it was never going to happen so he gave up. We tried to sled down our front hill yesterday with disastrous results. Amos’ boot came off halfway, and we ended up in a gutter with my butt 2 inches deep in melty slush and the sole of my snowboot ripped halfway off. I say, bring on spring!
Tags: cold, disappointment, snow
lettingherselfgo: Amos Bailey, age 2
Amos turned 2 Tuesday, and although he’s great today, I already miss how he was yesterday. I like him in the baby version and could stand to keep him at his current manageable size for at least 5 more years. But we celebrated anyway, with a big cake and grandparents all over the place. I would go into more detail, but I tear up when I think about it. 2!
Cake prep
It's show time---
Not bad.
Tags: birthday
lettingherselfgo: stuck
Perhaps it was revenge for my setting her daughter on the path to self-hatred and negative body image by giving her a Barbie, but Mom on a Wire gifted my Amos with a Thomas the Train sticker book for his birthday. He’s gotten stickers before, but I’ve always hidden them away immediately because I worried they would soon be plastered on my freshly painted walls or my grandmother’s antique furniture. I didn’t really know at what age stickers become appropriate, but I was shooting for the teen years when the threat of grounding or a withheld learner’s permit would keep him in line. Now a quick google search tells me stickers are all the rage among the toddler set and we’re late getting on the bandwagon.
Of course I know it’s silly that I held out this long. If you visited my house you would see signs of ruin everywhere. Our leather couch that was so posh and delicious two years ago is now shredded by cat claws. The custom drapes (left by the previous owners, I’m waaaay too cheap for that) are matted in dog fur. Close inspection of the walls reveals crayon smudges here and there. Amos has gotten pretty good at following directions, but should there be a minor lapse then adding a Thomas sticker to the mix would only add an extra touch of boyish charm.
Of course, Amos geeked out about his Thomas sticker book, and I’m delighted to report that he hasn’t figured out yet that the stickers peel off the pages and can be reaffixed elsewhere.
Tags: birthdays, housekeeping, stickers
lettingherselfgo: the best potty on the market
Slate has a good article about training potties today. I love that the cheap one turned out to be the best. If you’re in the market, check it out.
Tags: potties
lettingherselfgo: don’t ignore a smell like that
Looking back, of course, I can see the clues very clearly. First, that horrid stench of rot, which I attributed to a dead animal decomposing under the house. Then there was the general musty smell, which I blamed on the super-cheap rug we bought at the magical, mysterious, once -a-month Dreamweavers sale. Their stuff is gorgeous, but who knows where it comes from? Then came the cloud of sewage gas, blamed on the insufficiently capped toilet pipe during our homemade bathroom remodel.
Ladies, let me tell you this, a triple whammy of stomach-turning smells over a tw0-month period warrants further investigation. Pronto.
Earlier this week when the washing machine started draining, I heard splashing noises coming from under the house. Worrisome. Last night my husband finally crawled under the house for a look. He emerged 5 minutes later covered in sewage of the worst kind and shaking his head. “It’s bad,” he said.
The main sewer pipe had a quarter-size hole in it, and any time we turned on a sink or washed the dishes or flushed the toilet, stuff just spilled right out on the ground. It was muddy down there, with the worst kind of mud imaginable.
The mood turned grim. I didn’t know how bad it was under the house (and had zero interest in checking it out for myself), but I imagined the worst. Being swallowed in the middle of the night by a giant cesspool lurking beneath the floorboards. My son waking up covered in black mold. A house in need of bulldozing, financial ruin, homelessness. I like to prepare myself for the worst-case scenario. Plus, it’s difficult to feel upbeat when you’re too scared to flush your toilet so instead you cower in the corner of your backyard, praying your neighbors don’t spy you peeing in the mulch pile.
We halted all fluid and fiber intake and started calling plumbers. I am delighted, elated, over-the-moon happy to report that Buck, the best plumber in the universe, has already shimmied into the bowels of our home and replaced the faulty pipe. Furthermore, it turns out that the amount of sludge down there wasn’t nearly as terrifying as first suspected and can be cleaned right up. Buck says a few other pipes need to be cleaned or replaced altogether, but he didn’t seem scared or appalled or worried about it. And he didn’t charge too much, either. I love Buck.
Amos slept through the entire disaster and this morning noticed not a thing out of the ordinary. I was so pleased last night that he hasn’t yet shown the slightest interest in potty training. Sometimes things work out for the best.
My dad and his wife arrive this afternoon for a 5-day visit, which will be so much more enjoyable with running water. Happy ending!
lettingherselfgo: people are making fun of me now
Yes, I’m fully aware that I have a tendency to overreact and hover a bit when it comes to Amos. But (writing in a whining voice) I really was worried that he might bump his little sweet head falling out of the crib. I’ve worked through it thanks to kind words and how-tos from fellow mommy bloggers, and I suppose I can admit that perhaps I was being a bit overprotective.
Unlike Leigh, Cathy and Cindy, those supportive ladies who felt my pain and metaphorically held my hand through the ordeal, my buddy Walt took a different tack.
Walt: “I saw that picture. The bed is, like, 4 inches off the ground. He’d have a better chance of hurting himself if he just stood up and then fell down.” Guffaws. Hilarity. Ha ha ha.
But he’s right. I’m over it. Amos will be fine. Thanks everybody!
lettingherselfgo: earnest plea for advice
Last month I started freaking out that Amos was going to crawl out of his crib and land on his head on the hardwood floor, most likely hitting the corner of the Thomas the Train table on his way down. So Monday we took the front of his crib off, which leaves something like a miniature daybed that’s about a foot and a half off the floor. You can see the photos in my post from earlier this week to get a guage on how high up it is. We piled up some pillows beside the bed in case of catastrophe. He didn’t have any trouble the first two nights, but last night there was a thud and of course Amos was on the floor.
I guess my question is this: I’m trying to avoid spending the $75 to buy the low rail add-on thingy that would go halfway across the side to prevent falls. And none of those $20 bed rails they sell at babies r us and such places are safe to use in this situation because the crib mattress is too small and doesn’t have a box spring; apparently the rails are made for twin beds and larger. Plus, by the time we order the $75 special thing and get it shipped (est. time 2 weeks) Amos will likely have figured out how to avoid falling out of the bed. But I don’t know, maybe he’ll be falling out for years and years. I’ve never had a toddler before so I’m not sure what the process is here. Have any of you had one of these convertible cribs? And if so, did you buy the special rail or just lay out pillows and hope for the best?
lettingherselfgo: wordless
the dreaded night-night game
Austin Bailey used to like traveling, snazzy restaurants, oversized mugs of beer and sleeping late. Now she likes nesting, Wacky Packs, coffee drinks and sleeping through the night.