I Didn't Say I Drank it Before Breakfast...

This is very, very good weather for listening to The National. And drinking hot coffee and wearing soft hoodies and staying in bed. And storing certain types of cheese, I guess. But that's about it. I look forward to the return of the sun, if only for a few hours.

HR had a much, much better night last night and so we're all the happier for it. Keep in mind his "good" wake-up time is still around 6:30, so we were dressed and raring to go by 8 a.m. and decided to go to Trader Joe's and pick up some much-needed groceries. If you avoid this otherwise wonderful purveyor of goods because it is obnoxiously crowded, I'm telling you, give it a shot when they first open. Not only is the place freshly stocked, but parking is plentiful, there are no lines at the cash and you can cruise around the store without getting stuck behind the dreaded aisle hogs. Plus there's a certain thrill that comes with buying wine before breakfast. Even if you don't have another reason to be out of bed, it's worth getting up. I think we'll be doing all our shopping bright and early from now on.

You may or may not have noticed, but I've dropped the blog-of-the week bit. Not because there aren't many amazing blogs to share, just because I'm not good at recurring features. I'll continue to share things that strike me from time to time, just not on any kind of schedule.

Today's random show-and-tell corner: I have a soft spot for foul-mouthed broads who can do a mean lawn sprinkler imitation. And so, Pink.

Not Fade Away

Last night was the best night we've had in awhile, meaning three wake-ups between bedtime and morning-time instead of the previous night's seven. HR got in a solid 4 + hour block of sleep right off the bat, which is the longest he's stayed down at once for quite some time. I can very nearly live with that, especially since I am finding that the ideas put forth in the current sleep book I'm reading are much more in line with my parenting philosophy than any I've come across so far. It gives me concrete hope that if I keep at it we'll make it to a workable sleeping environment for everyone. So "up for the day" meant 5:30 on this morning, and the coffee I pounded before work (while he took his hard-core morning nap at 7:30 instead of the usual 9... oh boy...) has already worn off. So I occasionally slog through my days in a cotton-headed ninnymuggins haze. It wakes me up when I'm seized with the feeling that nighttime triumph--however temporary--cannot be so very far away. They don't call them baby steps for nothing.

But enough about that. For now. Who is getting psyched for Thanksgiving besides this guy? It's so close, and here I haven't even planned the menu (for Mike to cook, of course) yet. All I know is that we'll follow the meal with the traditional bowl o' mixed nuts in the shell. I don't know why I love the holiday nut bowl, I don't even eat that many of them and it makes a godawful mess. Last year I was nearly blinded by a walnut shell-- luckily I was wearing my glasses at the time and was able to deflect the flying shard. Mike sure does love to tell the tale about the time he nearly put my eye out with his nuts, though.

As in many things, I guess it's a nostalgic thing for me. My dearly missed Aunt Sue used to host many of the holiday gatherings when I was growing up and she always had a big fruit basket and a platter of nuts around to munch on post dinner. Looks like I subconsciously decided to take an entertaining cue from her. What I should really do is get a working record player and get the dance party going like she always did. I know that many of you who read this can clearly call to mind Aunt Sue doing the shimmy to Sandy Nelson's version of "Wipeout." This January will mark 15 years since she died. 15 years! Not a day has gone by in all that time when I didn't think of her, and I imagine that will never change.

Hmm, I didn't mean for this entry to take such a bittersweet turn, but sometimes that just happens.

What are your favorite Thanksgiving foods and traditions? I'd love to hear them if you're inclined to share.

Progress/Regress

We passed an uneven, but mostly really great weekend.

The good: seeing family and friends, having lots of time to enjoy HR, who is at the most fun stage yet, and wedding dress success for my sister, K! Oh yeah, and my future sister-in-law, W! They both found their dream gowns at the crazy sale on Saturday and nobody lost any major limbs. Actually it was quite pleasant and civilized. And I found myself watching strangers try on gowns and wanting to tell them how awesome they looked. OK, I did a few times. The fun was contagious. I'm still glad I never went through all that, but it was a lot better than I thought. Plus K's gown is amazing and so perfectly her - I can't wait to see her wear it in June. I had to get going before I got to see what W chose but I hear it's mighty lovely.

The not-so-good: just one thing, but it's a big one. SLEEP. Rather, NO SLEEP. HR is back to his old tricks, meaning, his pre-three-month old patterns of nighttime waking. The past three nights have been pretty dismal, and I'm chalking it up to 1) sleeping away from home; 2) having guests in our home and him getting overexcited and 3) the time change. I suspect that teething might claim some responsibility as well. Our bedtime routine is solid, so what else can I do? I'm trying to be patient and ride it out, but man, when you get a taste of good sleep it's much harder to go back to constantly interrupted snoozing. Tonight's got to be better. And if not, then tomorrow. The important thing is that he's healthy and happy on all other counts. I feel a mantra coming on here.

Becks, I picked up the No-Cry Sleep Solution on your rec, and so far it feels like a winner. Possibly only because it totally validates my parenting style, but it's all just guess work isn't it? If I find something that works I'll definitely share it.

Happy *&%$! Monday!

Dressy Bessy

Here's a quirk of which I've only recently become aware: I have this thing about watching people getting their makeup done. It's relaxing to me, almost hypnotic. This is at odds with my personal makeup regimen, I suppose, which consists of moisturizer and lip balm. A dab of mascara, perhaps even eyeliner on a special occasion. As with most things, I like to expend as little effort as possible, plus I figure if people are used to me sans paint, I'm not in danger of being caught without my face on. But any time I flip by a TV show where they're showing how to apply bronzer or eyeshadow I have to watch for awhile and my blood pressure suddenly drops.

I wouldn't go so far as to call myself a tomboy, and it's not like I don't want to look good, just that I have little patience with anything beyond basic grooming. That goes for clothing, too. Occasionally I watch a bit of  Say Yes to the Dress when I'm pumping and the fact that this kind of show exists boggles my mind, probably because, for one, I can't imagine spending that much money on an article of clothing that will be worn for a few hours. And the women they show on there a lot of the time, they are so spoiled and out of touch with reality. I can't stand people who think their time is more important than yours. Probably what bothers me most about the show though is that these women take their entire families to help them pick out a dress and then they're all conflicted when everyone offers their opinions. I HATE shopping, but I hate even more the idea of someone helping me shop. Ask Mike, if I ever ask your opinion on how something looks, it means I really want to hear it, because I ask like once every five years. I guess you could say I keep my own counsel.

So I'm going to help my sister find her bridal gown this weekend--it's one of those "running of the brides" free-for-all sales--and surprisingly I'm not all het up about it, probably because the gown is for her and not for me. In conclusion, I'm just a mess of contradictions.

Happy Thursday!

Attack of the Pod Baby

You wouldn't know it from what I usually write in here, but I'm actually a rather political person. But like most of the country right now, I'm suffering from election fatigue and I lack the energy to address the many fine points of the 2010 midterm fooferaw. It was a hateful scene all around. I'll say that I'm glad I'm a Massachusetts resident and leave it at that for the moment.

And now for the really important stuff of humanity: Halloween pictures. Saturday night we went to a kids-and-adults party and Mike and I went as Chris and Meg Griffin while HR was baby Stewie. If there were a thought bubble over his head, I'm pretty sure it would read, "Blast, vile woman!"

As an aside, do you know how hard it is to find red overalls? Very. I found this pair on etsy, and they probably won't be worn again because they are so vintage that they predate crotch snaps. No good for diaper changing. Still, is that a cute baby or what?

Cuter still:

Kvell-o-rama. My favorite part is the look on his face. Not that we did anything in this costume but visit Mike at work (I don't get people who trick-or-treat with infants or even toddlers unless they already have older children). I just had it on hand and figured it was my right as a mama to record the moment so I can humiliate him later in his life. That alone makes up for all the middle-of-the-night waking.

Sellout

I did two things this morning: participated in the democratic process, and entered a writing contest based on the first 250 words of my work-in-progress. Never mind that the draft is very much in progress, that is, not finished. What better incentive to whip it into shape, eh? Best case scenario: I get picked and I have to pull an a couple of all-nighters to finish it up. It's not like I'm not awake anyway, BABY. I agree, this sounds like a ridiculous way to work, but 1) have you met me? And 2) I'll let my unblemished track record of 11th hour successes all the way through grad school speak for itself. I know myself, and the procrastinator ethic never dies. In any case, I needed an incentive to get this puppy back on the front burner, and for now this is it.

So yeah, it's November. This is my favorite time of year. I like all the seasons, especially the changing part, which is why I could never leave New England. But I really, really, really love the buildup to the winter holidays. Thanksgiving is my joint. It's been my favorite ever since I was a little kid. Xmas is a bit more complicated. Since the onset of adulthood, I've grown increasingly jaded with the gift-giving holidays, but now that I have a kid I'm coming back around. I'm really looking forward to reviving old traditions and creating new ones. Sure the overall commercialization is still disheartening, but I like Christmas specials and Christmas carols and getting together with family. I can't wait to see HR get all excited over cardboard boxes. The point is, I'm a sap at heart and that will never change. Let's go, then, with the sleigh bells and twinkle lights.


I was going to post Halloween pictures here but blogger's giving me a hard time so that'll have to wait for tomorrow, alas.

UGGHH!

It's just another Monday morning in the nuthouse. I must say that in all my years here I've never seen such a consistent weekly escalation in nuttery. I don't think about my job at all over the weekend, ever, but on my first commute in of the week I always make a bet with myself that this Monday can't be as off the hook as last. Just call me the Buffalo Bills, because I am on a losing streak (too soon?). Ah, but I can honestly say I've never been bored at this job.

Things are getting wildly inconsistent with HR's sleeping, so that only adds to my mental disarray. Friday night, when we broke him of the swaddle once and for all, he slept like a perfect angel. I was so shocked, and so excited, that I knew better than to think it would happen again. Enter the jacked-up jackery of Saturday and Sunday night. Saturday we slept away from home, so I can't hold him accountable for that. But I assumed last night would be more normal, as it usually is after a tough night. Obviously I can stick my assumptions in a sack, Mister.

I'm not going to get frustrated or anything, I know I just need to be consistent with our routine and hope for the best every night. Tonight we'll add a bath into the mix (we usually bathe him in the morning) and see if that helps. Overall I can't really complain about this baby because the joy he has added to our lives trumps the joy of sleeping a million times over. It just helps me work through the snags to write about them. I don't want to overshadow the milestone that after 6 months of burrito baby, HR is FINALLY ready to free-form it in the crib.

I've got George Winston's December going in my iTunes and suddenly this day is feeling a-ok. Coming soon: scenes from HR's first Halloween.