(not so) Little Things

Calder has taken to playing a game I like to think of as "Momma can't see me". It mostly involves him standing beneath my belly, looking up and going "You can't see me!"

I Am Stupid

As it turns out I have developed a scorching case of pregnancy brain. So much so that I walked all  the way to my doctor's office for an appointment that showed up in my phone's calender as well as on my work schedule but did not, in fact, exist. At least not as far as the doctor's office was concerned. I have no idea how that happened. It's not like I enjoy peeing in a tiny cup so greatly that I am making up reasons in my head to go do it. 

At least I used the trip constructively. Since I was there already and clearly having problems keeping the scheduling straight, I ran through all the rest of my appointments with the lady at the desk. Turns out, whomever set those up way back when had gotten confused halfway through and thought someone else was my primary doc and set up the last 5 or so visits with her. Which, whatever, fine. I know from prior experience that when it comes down to D-Day, there are going to be dozens of people milling about the delivery room, all gaming for a look at my vageen, so the familiarity doesn't matter too much. It's also not like I am the type of person to go in to the hospital with an ironclad birth plan other than "deliver child so that both the kid and I survive". So I am OK seeing someone who may have different ideas on how best to go about birthin' babies. However, my doctor is the one who has already cleared me for the trip to NC in April, not some other rando in the practice. Sure it may be in my notes somewhere but I don't want to take the chance. Especially since I have now forked out a significant sum of cash for the bright blue monstrosity of chiffon and jersey that I picked up from the store yesterday. Now I just have to hope that some well-meaning environmentalists don't happen upon the beachfront ceremony and try to roll me back into the ocean.

Craft Works

I felt very, very productive today. To celebrate, I planned on starting several craft projects. In actuality, I only got as far as sorting through my pile of leftover and scrap fabrics and then stopped by JoAnn to get some additional supplies while out running other errands. Of course I never got started working on anything but I, A. Did not spend a billion dollars at the fabric store for once and B. Found uses for previous fabric indulgences so I am in essence recouping what up to this point had been sunk costs.

To ensure that these projects ever get done I am putting this list down in print. On the internet. Forever. This means they will get done. Swearies. In six months time, pick something from this list and ask me to produce it for you. If I don't, you can slap me.

1. Probably the simplest. I am making a two-sided throw blanket for Calder using some dinosaur print felt that I purchased for him back in October and backing it with a lime green stretch cotton that I picked up from the remnant bin when I made my own dinosaur costume some three(?) years ago. I even had the batting hanging around for whatever reason.

2. A superhero cape, once again using the remains of previous projects. One side will be a navy suiting fabric left from making a friend a bullet-proof vest and another stretch cotton, this one in gray, from Calder's Halloween elephant suit.

3. A sun hat for Rusty. After my last plea for suggestions, my mom sent me a pattern for baby hats. I had some pink scraps haning about so I bought a complimentary green flowered print and some eyelet trim. It should be adorable. If I have enough of the cloth from my pioneer dress hiding at the bottom of my sewing trunk, I may make two.

4. A throw pillow for Calder's bed. I know, like he needs more stuff in there but I bought him this cute remnant with little teddy bears driving in trucks a while back and it's not really large enough to do much else with it.

5. And the biggie, I am using a huge piece leftover from the elephant costume to make two matching blankies for Rusty. Gray doesn't exactly scream baby, yes, you are correct. To counterbalance that I bought a lovely satin print with butterflies on it There's pink in there somewhere. I am going to trim them in pink as well. Even I can't believe how willingly I have fallen into the pink trap.

And I have one other, non-cloth, non-planned project ahead of me. On the way back from our errands, Bruce and I pulled a sweet four drawer dresser out of the alley. It's a sturdy son of a bitch and while not pristine, it won't take much more than a little spiffening to make it acceptable for Calder's use. This makes me SO excited. Getting another bureau was one of the few big ticket items that Bruce and I had been fretting about. Having this crossed off takes a load off my mind. Now if someone would just leave a third bedroom in that alley and I will be all set. Or maybe, another bedroom and some fast-sewing elves.

Daddy Day Care

There are some significant changes afoot around here. Despite our most fervent attempts to win the lottery and/or hope that Bruce would have a real job by now (Just kidding, I gave up on that a loooooong time ago), Bruce is still home every day not bringing much money in and Calder is going to day care three times a week which sends a great deal of money out. As such, we have decided to pull Calder out of day care and Bruce will be a stay at home dad for the foreseeable future. Bruce sent the break up email earlier this week and when I read it I totally started crying at work. Because I am a total grown up. 

I think the crying was not only the result of being sad for Calder. I mean, he'll have significantly fewer friends to play with and no more Mimi the cook. It wasn't only being sad for my mental health either. After all, Calder won't be able to go off and torture other people for 7 hours a day. What the tears were really about was coming to the full realization about the situation we are in. Bruce and I have never been wealthy. Due to student loans and poor financial decisions in our younger days, Bruce and I have never had a great deal of surplus money but we did OK. We certainly never lacked for anything and could even afford the occasional indulgence. This past summer, when we decided whether to have another child, we acknowledged that money would get tight but we thought we'd manage just fine. Hell, Bruce was so busy with his camps and clinics and other stuff that I wished he's work less and be around more. After all, it's hard to get knocked up when one half of the DNA is in another state. Or country.

Slowly, the extra hockey and engineering-type gigs petered off until a few months ago when all but a few endeavors came to a full stop. Towards the end of last year Bruce found himself sitting at home more weekdays than not. You all remember my panic a few weeks ago about this stuff but that was more theoretical. Now it's real. We have gotten to the point of not being able to afford things that previously presented no problems. It's belt tightening time. Suckily for Calder, fun time at day care is the most obvious first thing to go and we will have to start looking around for other things to cut as Rusty's due date starts bearing down on us. I fear my dearest friends Mssrs. Satellite von TV and DVRington will be the next on this list.

All that said, sometime in March Bruce officially becomes a SAHD. Temporarily, maybe? Yikes. Not that I don't have faith in him, but I feel like he is probably going to need some help. Like, with stuff to do during the day and suggestions for meal times and planning trips and other kids to play with for Calder. I fear that their lives will slowly devolve into hours of watching the Disney Channel and eating an all dinosaur-shaped diet punctuated with daily visits to the thrift store circuit. I am clearly no help here seeing as how a long weekend at home tends to leave me grasping at straws by Monday afternoon. Plus, I'll still be at work all day and I don't want to seem any more like the bossy bitch that I am by leaving out detailed schedules and meal plans for Bruce to follow. That and a day at work tends to leave me catatonic for at least a few hours upon returning home. So, stay at home peoples, how the hell do you do it? Thank you in advance.

Going Viral

In the words of every pediatrician ever, said 100,000 times a day, "It's probably just a virus that's been going around."

Shocking, I know. It's not pneumonia, TB or the strep and while Calder's tonsils are quite large, that's more of a genetic thing than a sick thing. I had HUUUUGE tonsils. I could make them touch each other by flexing my throat muscles. I finally got them removed in high school after complaining about them forever. While I rarely ever had strep, I had tonsillitis constantly. That means lucky Calder has a lifetime of easy dismissals from school ahead of him. 

A Short Play

Me: Cough, cough. My throat hurts. 

Nurse: Your tonsils are gigantic; I'm calling your parents!

Me: *smirk*

fin

Of course I asked Bruce if there was anything we could reasonably do to make him feel better and Bruce replied via text, "Eat lunch at the big lello M". I didn't think I would have to explain to a grown-ass man that I wanted to know what the doctor said would make Calder feel better and not what Calder said. But there I go, making assumptions again. Just like I assumed that seeing as how I have been waxing poetic about Shamrock Shakes for the past five days, yesterday might finally be the day I get home to find one waiting for me in the freezer. No such luck. And Calder didn't even eat his cheeseburger! That is how I know he is really sick. No cheeseburger yesterday and on Monday the list of things he wouldn't eat/took forever to eat included Fruit Loops, tater tots, PB&J and ICE CREAM. Basically the only thing Calder has put down without excessive coaxing over the past few days has been my Thin Mints. Which I am saving to grind up into my Shamrock Shake. Won't someone think of the pregnant ladies?!

Today Calder is back at day care, still coughing and cranky, but undiagnosable and without fever which is good enough for me. I'd feel bad about exposing other kids to him but it's not like he got sick in a vacuum and Bruce and I have not been ill soooo....

Plus, he really wants that shot at getting his superheroes back.

Scary Sick

This morning Calder woke up with petechial hemorrhaging around his eyes and dried blood on his mouth from coughing so hard. That's... just slightly frightening. He's still yet to have anything other than a mild fever but of course I am now in Mom-worry overdrive. All my past exposure to coughing up blood has been in books where some frail, but good-hearted individual delicately coughs up blood onto a lace hanky and, after some attempt at the desert cure, dies three chapters later. So this morning I was all, "OMG, IT'S THE CONSUMPTION!" Bruce managed to convince me that Calder mostly likely does not have TB but still, what if he has pneumonia? There are plenty imaginary yet possible things left for me to worry about.

They are at the doctor now even though Calder desperately wanted to go to day care today. We asked him if he wanted to stay home another day and he was all, "No, I go to school and not get time outs. I get my superheros back." His superheros, you see, have been taken away for overenthusiastic play fighting at school and I told him that if he could go a whole day without getting into trouble, he could have them all back. If you are keeping score at home that means playing with action figures > yakking up blood. At least to a three-year-old.

President's Sickday

Calder is normally a late sleeper. It could just be good genes* but mostly I think this is because he feels that there is an inherent injustice at being made to go to bed before 10 pm and spends whatever amount of time between us putting him down at 8 9, oh ok, 9:30 and then lying in bed wondering what awesome things Mommy and Daddy are doing with out him and resenting us. Answer: Falling asleep, watching things on TV with swears and violence. He may have a point. However, this weekend has been different. The poor kid has got one nasty chest cold and as a result, his body has straight up given up by 8:30 at the latest for the past three nights. Of course this means  he wakes up a the crack o' dawn needing to pee or things like yesterday happen, when Calder called from his room at 5:15, "Momma! Momma! I have the sniffles!" When I got up to investigate why he couldn't get up to tell me in person, I walked into his room to find Calder looking like he had been blinded by venomous Dilophosaurus spit. The child's whole damn head was covered in snot. "I have sniffles, see, Snnnnrrrrp!" 

Right now I am able to write this because it is 8:53 am and Calder is sound asleep on the couch. Which would be awesome except for the fact that it came at the expense of the hours between 1:30 and 3:30 am when Calder came into our room going, "I. Can't. Breeeeeeve! HORP. HORP. HORP." Poor kiddo's productive cough has turned into something less so and, afraid that he was going to force himself to cough so violently that he was going to sprain something or vomit on me in bed, I relocated us to the couch so he'd be more upright, slathered him in Vapo Rub and snuggled with him way past the point of losing feeling in my arms until he finally fell asleep again. Thankfully he doesn't have a fever or anything yet but who knows, I swear all eleventy dozen of my thermometers are crap so it's possible he's already brain damaged from extremely high temps and I just refuse to acknowledge it because that damn ear thermometer said he is at 94.7 and the armpit one says he is 98.3 and well, I am not subjecting anyone to a butt temping at 2 am.

Mr. Sickypants of course has put a damper on my plans for today. I was really hoping to use the long weekend to squeeze one more visit out of our Field Museum membership before it expires and was waiting for the Auto Show to end before I ventured down that way. After two days of sitting around looking at each other, venturing out of our apartment would be really, really nice. Of course even I know that it would be a horrible idea to take a sick child out in freezing drizzle to stand at the bus stop (twice) just to see the dinosaur bones again. Bruce has the car at hockey all day so it looks like we are trapped here. Unless someone with a car wants a free trip to the Field? You'll need to bring a car seat though. And an immune system of steel.

*Due to excessive napping, on top of marathon night sessions, I was banned from being in my bed from 8 am to 8 pm as a teenager and in college I would routinely sleep until 4 pm. On weekends. Yes, totally, just on the weekends.

Friday Film Fest

After a sucky week I need some things to make me feel better. Like Calder being weird, Lady Gag's new single and cats. Or all three together.

First, for reference, the source material. Cats dancing to Lady Gaga's Born This Way.

And now, Calder dancing to cats dancing to Lady Gaga's Born this Way.

And a bonus! Due to Calder's sincere affection for Lady Gaga, we felt compelled to watch her perform on the Grammys which was just as strange as expected. What was unexpected was that once Calder toddled off to do something else, somewhere else, Bruce and I continued to watch the awards show despite the fact that both of us have pretty much never heard ANY of the songs/albums being honored. However, our reluctance to change the channel was thusly rewarded.



Now, I know next to nothing about this Cee-lo individual other than the fact that an episode of My Super Sweet 16 featured his bitchchass daughter but I can assure you, my 2011 Halloween costume is most certainly going to be a replica of his disco space turkey outfit because it. is. EPIC.

"I Like You"

One of the best things about having a very verbal preschooler is that they wear their hearts on their sleeves and will not hesitate to tell you exactly how they feel. Of course this cuts both ways but in the post-Valentine's world, let's just focus on the positive. There is nothing quite so satisfying as walking through the door after another soul-sucking day at work only to be greeted by someone going, "Momma! I missed you! We got you cake!* It's a surprise! I love you!" Having Calder meet me at the door everyday like this is just the best. It's like having a golden retriever that can talk. Of course every day doesn't involve the promise of surprise cake but it's still just as nice even without the baked goods.

You can hardly see the dirt and cat hair at all.

 So yes, yesterday was Valentines. I am a crappy mother and wife and gave Calder and Bruce cards I made while riding the L home from work. Let me tell you, I am not the greatest artist but I can draw a human heart with a fair amount of accuracy while on a  moving train. That says something. There was no sappy post from me full of feelings and emotions and whatnot. Sorry, I am a crappy mommy blogger too. I was too busy being pressed into gnocchi-making and ice cream cake-rehabilitating duty as soon as I got my boots off. Plus, Bards don't do sentimentality. We just don't really roll like that. We express our feelings with humor. And food, usually baking. Sure I spent a great deal of my tweens and teens writing overwrought poetry about my feelings and diary entries about the boys I liked but even then I was pretty much writing what I thought I was supposed to be writing. So yes, I tell people I love them all the time, I am not a total cold-hearted beotch but other than  that... if I make fun of you and cook for you, that's when you know how I really feel.

You know you're jealous you didn't get one of these.

Calder on the other hand, is a no-holds-barred emoting machine. When he likes you, he REALLY likes you. And he will tell you that, frequently. First thing in the morning, "Momma, it's day time. Wake up. I like you." Last thing at night, "Love you, Momma. Close the closet door." Even in his Tasmanian Devil-whirls of frenzy  when he is bouncing off the furniture, walls, dog, people, etc., when Calder comes crashing into you it's usually accompanied by a "Sorry, Momma. I like you!" and then he's off again to inform the dog how much he is also liked. It's sad to think that with me and Bruce for examples, Calder will eventually clam up as he gets older but I hope his Mr. Feely-phase sticks around for just a little while longer. I like spending every day feeling a bit like Sally Field. 


*Calder, in his excitement, dropped the ice cream cake on the kitchen floor. Fortunately it was frozen solid and only portions of it had to be reconstructed/scraped off.

Bed Time is Crowded Time

Calder is sleeping lots better these days. He still wakes up at night sometimes but he usually doesn't fight being put back so much which is nice. Perhaps that's because he doesn't feel so alone in his room anymore. Back in the day, Calder's loveys were limited to his blankie, Mr. Kitty and Mr. Hippo. Sometimes he'd bring a toy to bed with him but that most often would end badly when he would inevitably stab himself in the face with whatever he was trying to cuddle. As of late that simple lineup has spun absurdly out of control. Now, Calder goes to bed with his blankie, his back-up blankie (the spare back up is still hidden or else I am sure that would be there too), Mr. Kitty, Mr. Hippo, a blue fleece dinosaur blanket he's had forever, a stuffed dog he calls Blue Puppy and a square of scrap fabric from his turtle costume that he has named Soft Blankie. There is also a rotating parade of other stuffed animals, usually dinosaurs. Each night at bedtime, Calder mounds all of his snugglies into a pile and then climbs on top, wiggling and flailing until each beloved item is tucked securely under his stomach.

Once Calder has wrangled everyone in place, we are required to cover him up to his shoulders with his sheet, fleece Spider-man blanket and Spider-man bedspread. Next comes a purple afghan that was knitted for me by a long-gone relative whose name I cannot currently recall. This one gets draped over Calder's body, up past his head and over the edges of the bed, covering him entirely. Usually, this is all we need to do. Bury him in cloth and fiberfill, kiss him goodnight through the afghan and walk away. It's nice. Generally Calder stays put but sometimes he'll pop up and complain of being sweaty (shocker, I know) or claim that his butt itches. Seriously. He's a weird kid. Both of these are pretty easily remedied and then he just goes right back into his plush fortress. He doesn't even complain about the noise when the heat turns on anymore. Let me tell you, I am liking this. I am really, really liking this. Now if I could just find some sort of bedtime routine that would keep the dog from trying to force me out of bed so that he can have my pillow and Bruce all to himself.

Largeness

Although I am just shy of actually being in my third trimester, 26 weeks, I am fairly certain I have moved past being just pregnant to being really, really pregnant. I feel huge. And awkward. Yes, three months from now I am going to be much bigger. And much, much more awkward. I know this. This is why ordered the dress for my sister's wedding in a size that would make Lane Bryant blush. But still, as of now I officially feel huge. I have all the agility and stability of a partially sentient potato. My belly is just always IN. THE. WAY. Anything that gets dropped to the floor is considered indefinitely lost to me unless Calder is right there for a "Pick that up for momma, please." Personal hygiene has taken a pretty bad hit too. You want me to stand upright in the shower for how long? Every day? Bull crap. Forget shaving my legs or painting my toes. Hell, forget touching my toes.

Even if my legs and feet are an unsightly hairy mess, I soooo look forward to Spring and the wearing of the flip flops. Currently, the worst six minutes of my day are the three minutes it takes me to struggle into my winter boots in the morning to leave for work and the three it takes to put them back on to go home. For some reason taking them off is just that much easier. I could also say the 10 minute waddle (yes, I am so waddling already) to and from the train stop does not not suck either. Apparently, clear sidewalk ordinances, like snow emergency parking bans, are optional to the denizens of Chicago. At least the residents of Albany Park seem to feel that way.

Speaking of general winter crapitude, I REALLY hope that stupid rodent was correct and this hideous winter and its awful snow and alternating deep freezes will be over soon. I don't think I can get more than a few remaining weeks out of my calf-length down coat. That bitch is the warmest thing going and if I have to downgrade to my thin wool three quarter coat that has no hood and doesn't button fully all the way down I will cry a river of tears. That will instantly freeze to my face and then be ignored for weeks by the business owners in the vicinity of Kedzie Avenue. That means you too church, God doesn't like people who don't de-ice. It's in the Bible. Look what happened to Lot's wife. She pissed him off and was turned into a pillar of salt. For other, more pious people, to use on their sidewalks. THAT'S WHAT IT SAYS.

I don't know why I am complaining about the ice, really. Walking is going to be awful whether the snow is there or not. The groin pain has graduated to full on constant hip/groin/back issues that are aggravated from sitting too much. And sleeping the wrong way. And standing to much. Basically, if I want to be pain free I have to readjust every 20 minutes. This is making getting a full night's sleep very difficult. In other bitchery, my ankles have started swelling and I now have heartburn ALL THE TIME. I hate TUMS and it's not like they do that much anyway. So pointless. I like to tell myself that ice cream makes it feel better but even the ice cream knows that's a lie. Don't judge me, rocky road!

And now if you'll excuse me, I need to go take the jeopardy online test. It's the first time I have been eligible in 18 months and I could really use an extra $15,000 right now. Hell, even the appearance fee would help.

Gender Bender

Preschoolers are very weird about gender roles. In some ways, Calder is like the social conformity police. Last night at dinner I was informed that "Transformers band aids are not for grils, Momma." He then instructed me to go put on a Princess one even though we don't have any. I have also been told on many occasion when looking at toys in catalogs or in stores that the pink version are for me and the other ones are for boys.The weirdest example of this was with a piano. I didn't want to blow his tiny mind by tell him that males and females were both playing black pianos for hundreds of years before someone even thought to make one pink. I don't really know where he gets this from, day care maybe? It's probably not Bruce who has coached some tough-ass girls in the past and has more than once come home from thrifting with decidedly girl-cut jeans for Calder. I certainly know it isn't from my Smith College-attending ass. I am fairly sure they'd retroactively rescind my degree and feminazi card if they found out.

If I wanted to buy him the pink version of something I bet he'd be totally happy with it while at the same time he'd tell me it's for girls.On the other hand, it has been noted here before that Calder has noooo problem whatsoever playing princess dress up and if you ask him what his favorite color is he'll tell you pink and purple. Blue comes in a distant third. Currently, his favorite pair of shoes is a pairs of bright purple Crocs that Bruce bought him for Christmas. Perhaps, he's not suffering from confusion about gender norms but more of a congenital case of bad taste?

I know Calder's just trying to figure out his place in the world and sometimes putting it in regimented order probably helps him understand what to him is a big, huge confusing place. What will be really interesting is to see how Calder processes this stuff once he has a sister around all the time. Will he automatically begin assigning all the pinky-princessy stuff to his sister while retaining control of his trucks and dinosaurs? Or will Calder start siphoning off the sure-to-be-received girlie stuff that will belong to his defenseless sister? All I know is right now Calder is reading a book that has scratch and sniff sections that smell like poop, pee, barf, farts and rotting meat. Perhaps a little feminization would be an improvement.

Twu Wuv

Pretend phone call Calder just had with his hockey girlfriend, Alyssa:

Calder: HI! What you doing?

....

Calder: I like you and I care about you and everyfing.

....

Calder: I dream about you and fink about you and love you and stuff. BYE!

Snow Day!

Work is canceled. So is day care. All because of a little snow. OK, so maybe we couldn't open the back door so good this morning and there is one car totally buried across the street. Even Chief looked out the door this morning and was all, "Oh HELL no!" My dog is the biggest wuss in Chicago. The best part? I am visibly pregnant so no one will expect me to do squat. Shovel? Pshht. Help push a car? Doubtful. Stay inside and eat cookies? Ding ding ding!

I maybe messed with the perspective here a bit.

Today would be an awesome day to dress Calder up in his ridiculous snow gear and let him go to town but it is taller than him in some parts and, oh yeah, he hates it. Worst half Canadian/half New Englander EVER. We even tried to suggest some sledding but that got shot down pretty fast. Calder is content to watch Dora and play with his Matchbox snowmobile and the idea of snow. So instead we are going to stay inside, fire up the waffle maker and watch the unlucky people without garages try to shovel out their cars. If I wasn't knocked up, that would make an excellent drinking game.

You me to poop where?