Through The Looking Glass

I have this huge long draft post about the economy but it is getting really really personal and I need to stop and think about whether any of this stuff is the internet’s business before I carry on. So instead, here is some pretty baby knitting:

I know–unless you are a knitter (and even then it is not certain) you have no idea what you are looking at. Trust me, it is going to blow your mind when I show you the finished product.

No, Amy, it is not for me. An old work friend found out exactly what happens if you mix antibiotics and birth control pills. I am pretty sure she’s having a girl, but either way red/orange/yellow will be awesome.

Can I rant for a second? It drives me INSANE that everyone knits baby stuff out of acrylic. Wool breathes. Wool is soft. Wool does not MELT ONTO YOUR SKIN in a fire. There is even plenty of wool that is machine washable. Obviously there are a few people with genuine allergies, but it is seriously rare and in those cases for the love of all that is holy use cotton. I do think acrylic has its place (honestly) but that place is not anywhere near a baby’s skin.

So I, uh, hope Samantha doesn’t mind wool baby things.

So Sam found the Lego Star Wars II game (which Will had hidden, but apparently not thoroughly enough) and forced me to play all freaking morning. At some point we had some flash rains, hard and fast enough that it sounded like hail. As soon as it had passed the air turned hot, making me think the rain was pushed in by a hot front. The amateur meteorologist in me assumes this is the Santana winds (also called the Santa Ana winds), which would explain Will’s mysterious allergies this weekend.

Then Sam decided that 3:00 was a good naptime. The kindest thing you could possibly do is kill me. (I take comfort in the fact that all the moms of small children I know are exhausted all the time, no matter how well or how poorly their kids sleep. Yes, I am taking comfort in others’ pain. Yes, I know, I usually feel worse if other people are suffering as I am suffering. I’ve decided not to do that anymore. Selfishness FTW!)

I am thinking of having some more coffee. I know I will regret it, but what the hell.

I do this thing whenever we go into a house/apartment we’ve never visited before. It’s totally subconscious and probably kind of weird, but I mentally arrange our furniture, deciding how we’d use the space. Yesterday evening at a party, with some insanely good vintage bourbon in my belly, I confessed this to Holly and Tano, whose home we were seeing for the first time. They have a small place, maybe smaller than ours (but with a yard!). There is a little room off the bedroom, not much more than an alcove. My first thought on seeing it is that pre-Sam we would have used it as they do, for an office, or maybe if I was super-lucky as a dressing room. Now, though, it would be Sam’s room. And holy cats do I ever want to steal their house now! A little bedroom for Sam, right off our bedroom? WANT. It would be SO IDEAL. Sigh.

Last night I tried to put Sam to bed around 7:30. Normally that would be really early for him but he was exhausted (no nap, yay) and so was I. After about half an hour he decided he didn’t feel like going to bed and just got back up. I gave up and went to sleep. Will watched a cartoon with Sam, who climbed into his lap and put himself to sleep. I think Will brought him to bed at about 9:00, and I moved to the couch.

So now it is not quite 4:00 in the morning and I’ve been awake for over an hour. I tossed and turned and tried everything but counting sheep, but I can’t seem to fall asleep. Internet, you’re my last resort.

Sam, of course, is still sleeping soundly. That sound you heard was my brain exploding.

Three things.

1. Good news! We can keep Sam! Remember that time I told him (before I knew who he was) that he’d just have to go back if he didn’t like cowboy stuff? The other night we put on Silverado and he thought it was the greatest thing ever, especially the horses. We are about halfway through and will watch the rest tonight. (What debates?)

2. Will does most of the reading aloud around here. I really envy him, so this morning I started a book that is just for me and Sam: Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder. It gets the fewest re-reads of the series for me, which is a shame because it is a really lovely book–possibly her best writing, as she did not have her own memories to worry about.

3. Never mind about the Vikings, I’ve said too much.

Sam is sleeping poorly. (Actually, last night was better, but we’ve only fixed one part of the puzzle.) (And yeah, I know, when has he ever slept well? Shut up.)

I think he’s ready to stop napping. His body only wants X hours of sleep in a 24 hour period–let’s call it 10 hours–but he can’t actually stay awake for the other 14 all in a row. So he passes out mid-afternoon and then he needs more awake time and can’t fall asleep at night. In the past week he’s stayed up until MIDNIGHT twice. (Will and I, by the way, are ready for bed by 10:00.) Then he’s up at 6:00, maybe 7:00 if it was a really late night.

Will has been in charge of bedtime for about a year. Every night Sam nurses and then takes a bath with Will and then goes to bed with him. Lately he’s been screaming his head off instead of falling asleep. I suppose it’s possible that Will is pinching him but I kind of doubt it. So what’s with the Mama anxiety? We even tried our old trick of me pretending to leave, but he didn’t fall for it. Screamed for me for AN HOUR, so I pretended to come back (what? I am thorough) and he fell asleep with me in less than 15 minutes. Of course, he’d worn himself out, but last night we tried switching up the routine so Will did bath and story and then I put Sam to bed–and there was nary a scream. Just one teensy whine.

When Sam has trouble falling asleep, he sleeps badly and needs to nurse a lot at night. My back just can’t take the nightnursing, but all attempts at weaning have failed SPECTACULARLY. So I spend all of my time feeling like my pelvis is going to break in half. Seriously, you guys. It’s so bad that I have taught Will how to push it back together. Amateur Chiropractics at my house, limited time offer!

I have a feeling Sam might need more than those 10 hours of sleep if he were to, say, spend several hours a day at the park. Maybe three in the morning and three in the afternoon. It’s 1.3 miles to the park and I can’t do it. I suppose I could drive, but the fact is that I am so fucked up from sleeping badly that I can’t exert the energy to make it so I could sleep better. THIS IS FUCKED UP. (It is also worth pointing out that I am gaining weight and can’t do anything about it. Charmingly, because of the nightnursing, I am ravenously hungry all the time. Thanks a lot, hormones.)

So basically:

-Sam either doesn’t sleep at night or he doesn’t sleep during the day
-I don’t sleep, ever
-I’m a physical wreck, preventing me from doing anything about it
-And I’m getting fat

You know what would work? If someone could force me to take a shower every morning, and then walk with me to the park. In other words, I NEED A NANNY. Or a wife. What the hell?

In the meantime, we are just ignoring all the routines and doing whatever we want. Who knows–something might work! Today’s experiment: taking Sam to knitting. (Will is coming too.) There will be nachos.

Nicole Kidman claims infertility can be cured by swimming in a waterfall. Don’t worry, she’s not one of those “just relax” crackpots — it’s a specific waterfall.

• Gangsters shooting each other with Tommy guns
• Motion pictures in Technicolor
• Art Deco
• Swing dancing
• Nazi Propaganda
• A Democratic President who will fix the economy

Sam dumps out the bin of Playmobil. It’s mostly Knights and Vikings. He rummages through everything until he finds just what he wants: a dagger and a trident. He hands the trident to me and we begin a sword fight. His dagger keeps getting caught in the tines of my trident, so he takes it away from me and turns it around; now it is more like a sword. I turn it around again and poke him in the belly, with sound effects. We put down our weapons. Sam goes back to the pile and selects two new swords: both daggers this time. We duel. He wins.