Maybe, Sparrow

This Operations Has Moved...

2008-07-07T16:04:00.000-07:00

...to a more temperate locale....

http://www.maybesparrow.com/

Climber Monkey

2008-06-23T13:27:00.000-07:00

It's been a long week.

Really long.

My baby can pull himself to standing. He can creep along. He can fall on his head and scream. Over and over and over again.

And, with all this crazy climber monkey activity, we've got some sleep regression.

I am so tired.

I don't know if it's burn out, or depression, or just plain regular tired, but I don't want to do anything. I don't want to grocery shop. I don't want to work. I don't want to pick up or cook or get up and brush my teeth. My math is broken, my head is fuzzy, and I just can't think. I'm fogged.

I just want 8 consecutive hours of sleep.

Mongo the Destroyer

2008-06-12T10:43:00.001-07:00

My baby is huge.

Every time I go to playgroup, I am reminded that my baby is huge.

Every time some stranger asks how old he is, then gives me that eye-bugging look when I tell them, I know that he's a big boy.

We had to acquire new jammies (my mother in law bought some--Gammy Jammies) in a size 18 month. He'll be 8 months tomorrow.

Giant boy.

Most of it is height. He's in normal territory for weight. He's off the charts in height, so all this one piece stuff is sized up.

I think of him as a sweet tiny little boy, because he's my first and he is the baby standard I've learned. But, he's giant. He's as big as the one year olds at the park. He's got giant hands and giant feet; if he were a dog, we'd all be talking about how enormous he'll have to get to grow into his paws.

Supposedly, breastfed babies grow much faster at first. His growth rate is supposed to slow down dramatically after 6 months. So, maybe that's it. We'll see.

Weary

2008-06-07T23:20:00.000-07:00

I am tired. Really, really tired.

But! My house is clean, my baby is asleep, my curtains are hemmed, my quilt has three rows stitched, and I got a damned good deal on some diapers.

And, I cooked dinner.

And, beer. I have a beer.

So, all things considered, it could be worse.

All the control-freak notions--the feeling that I couldn't get things under control--have subsided considerably. I've streamlined, and pared down, and downsized, and decluttered. I'm organized and scheduled, and I feel like I just may have a handle on things.

And, I have homemade pie for dessert.

What sort of mother of an 7 month old should have time for baking a damned pie, anyway?

I'm freaking my husband out, though, with all this newfound tidiness and increased thriftiness and general vibe of self-improvement. I have lists. I have a calendar. I don't leave the dishes in the sink. I'm requesting a new bathing suit. It's all very strange. Or, maybe it's just summer.

Teeth and Toys

2008-06-02T16:57:00.001-07:00

He's got two teeth!

And, with it, he's got pain. And, whining. And, wanting only to sit in Mama's lap. And, to gnaw on celery sticks, then throw them on the floor.

His little collection of toys is growing. He's got some rattles, some little stuffed animals, two big-wheeled trucks, three tennis balls, a wipes box with some blocks in it, and an old cell phone.

He also likes window envelopes and the cardboard tubes from paper towels.

I figure that he will, eventually, end up in that horrid state that nearly every one I know with children has to deal with--Plastic Crap Overload. Kid's meal prizes, cheap holiday gifts, party favors, family presents, stuffed animals covering half a twin mattress, large plastic slides and large plastic playhouses, matchbox cars and actions figures--just the stuff modern American children seem to accumulate. And, I figure that I will be powerless in the face of the toy avalanche--that eventually, it will take over 75% of my home. And, I will end up giving up the dining area or half the living room to storing garish, probably toxic stuff that he'll only have an interest in for 10 minutes, once.

For right now, though, it all fits in a laundry basket.

Knees and Sleep

2008-05-28T10:32:00.000-07:00

V. keeps getting up on his knees to do that rocking back-and-forth thing babies do before they really figure out the crawling. Poor little uncoordinated monkey. Or, gorilla. J. (the husband) brought home a stuffed gorilla yesterday, and V. is quite pleased with it.

I was on CafeMom yesterday, in the "Born in October 2007" group, and I seriously think that some folks are totally full of it. "Little Aiden/Madison is talking, crawling, signing and eating filet mignon!" Riiiiiiiight. I may be a first timer, but I'm not an idiot. I'm thinking that a lot of people think that babbling 'ma ma ma ma ma' is 'talking.' And, that scooting is 'crawling.'

The Mommy Competition is already on, and they're only 7 months old. And, I suck at it already.

We are right on target, so far as I'm concerned.

We are all really tired, though. Night weaning is just not fun, it is, in fact, mostly comprised of hour-long cry-a-thons and the kicking off of blankets. We brought out the big guns, though--J. dug out the space heater. In May. Energy conservation be damned. So, between the warm, and the binkie, and the dark, and the general acceptance that he wasn't going to nurse, he finally passed out. And, I did. At 4:30, or so.

Better late than never.

Rhino Air Show

2008-05-20T15:33:00.000-07:00

Watching V. discover things is amusing. We give him junk mail, because he loves window envelopes and papers. He has an old Nokia cell phone (with the battery removed) because he loves pressing buttons (He's also a terrible remote control addict.) Last week he was in love with measuring cups. This week, it's the tennis balls I use to dry pillows. And, the Rhino Air Show. I bought a very soft, stuffed rhinoceros before he was born, that he's never shown any interest in. I like it, however, so I was tossing it around last night, and apparently, that floppy thing dandling around and flipping through the air is the more hilarious performance ever.

And, wires. The kid is obsessed with wires. Not so cute. He's going to end up pulling something down on himself. Or, electrocuted.

I really don't get the wire thing. Guess it's mostly just that wires are the perfect grabbing size.

And, the cats, of course. They aren't used to new Mobile Baby. They're treading lightly and more annoyed by the day.

On the Move

2008-05-16T13:08:00.001-07:00

The baby is raring to go. He's scooted so much that he's got little knee callouses.

And, with all the moving and rolling and scooting, and suddenly developing separation anxiety his sleep has become, er, problematic. I assume it's a phase. Poor little guy. He's clinging for the first time. Holding out his arms for me. Grabbing my legs and arms. It's cute. Annoying, but cute.

I'm sure in a few months, the cute will wear off.

He's outgrown his little infant bucket thing. We need to move to the big car seat.

I figure if I blink, he'll be 16 and asking for a car.

Standing in the Way of Control

2008-05-06T12:50:00.000-07:00

I feel vaguely out of control recently. Like things are slipping past me, and I just can't keep up. I'm 99% sure that it's not really a case of me dropping the ball, so much as it's a case of me being a neurotic weirdo.

The baby is clean. More or less. The house is clean. More or less. I am showered. The cats are fed. The bills are paid.

What is my issue?

I took a look at Fly Lady a few days back. Now, I'm not drowning in squalor by a long shot. Hell, I've got a baby and I still manage to cook every night and sew and work and find new music. But, still, I feel this need to contain it all. I want a checklist. I want a routine. I want, I dunno... to be a scary Martha Stewart Robotic Control Freak, or something

And, that just can't be healthy, right?

I'm a big believer in the notion that we can only control ourselves--I'm big on not nagging or manipulating, letting people be, not worrying that things are done my way as long as they just get done. But, apparently the control issue is sneaking up on me.

I need to just relax.

Television

2008-05-05T13:57:00.000-07:00

I read Buy, Buy Baby this weekend at the recommendation of some militantly anti-TV mamas.

While it makes an excellent case against the notion that TV can be educational for babies and toddlers, I'm sort of unimpressed. I mean, first--welcome to the Great Big Duh. You have to be a special sort of stupid to think TV will make a 6 month old more intelligent. I understand that plenty of people seem to think that Baby Einstein and the like will do just exactly that, but plenty of people are operating at an 8th grade reading level, ya know?

So, I already knew that the baby genius thing was a load of crap. What I really wanted to know was what level of television viewing has been reasonably proven harmful. In Buy, Buy Baby, Thomas states that a lot of the conclusions from The Plug-In Drug, upon further investigation, have been show to be somewhat overblown. But, she never states how that is. Her main conclusion seemed to be that there isn't much known about the matter. Researchers don't know what the end result of very early screen time might be (though, she tosses in an off-hand comment that it may correlate to autism. Big ol' honking may, there, right?

What she does mention, and what actually matters to me as I've seen it in action with my nephew, is that the current state of marketing and programming to children tends to convince little brains that they don't want to read books that don't have much to do with television. I bought my nephew Little Golden Books last year--The Pokey Little Puppy and an adaptation of Cars. He gave The Pokey Little Puppy back to me. For real. A four year old returned the present, because, "I don't like that."

"You only like the ones you've seen on TV, huh?"

He nodded solemnly.

That is certainly not what I want for my boy.

Now, I know there's more to my nephew's state of mind than watching the occasional episode of Sesame Street. He's one of those kids that's been constantly in front of a screen since birth. DVD player in the car. DVD's at restaurants. TWO televisions in his room. Reading isn't a priority in his house. His mother just doesn't care about that sort of thing.

But, for me, the thought of a childhood without picture books is pretty depressing.

The question is, where's the balance?

Going screen free isn't an option in our house. Just plain isn't. I have to work on a computer. My husband is a total addict--one of those "television is background noise" people. It drives me nuts. And, background television has been demonstrated as being bad for little kids. But, the fact of the matter is that I like Sesame Street. And, I'd like to share it with my kid when he's a bit older.

How much TV is too much? How much is just enough? And, how do you get your husband to take it all seriously?

Sweet Potato

2008-05-01T13:18:00.000-07:00

The boy finally ate something with enthusiasm last night.

Sweet potatoes.

I hate sweet potato, so I wasn't expecting the baby to love them. But, there he was, little tongue hanging out, lunging for the potato goo. He had a whole shot glass full.

Yes, I feed my baby out of a shotglass. Not like I'm using them for liquor these days.

It was a big leap, though. He's such a boobie baby. I was beginning to think he'd end up one of those kids that doesn't really get solids until 12 months, which is a little disheartening as the kid is humongous, and I couldn't figure on how I'd be able to keep up 10 lbs from now.

He's starting to move from squirmy little human larva into weird little drunken monkey territory. He got his head stuck under the bed yesterday, which was both tragic and hilarious. I didn't know he could do that until it was too late, though.

Hello

2008-04-29T14:18:00.000-07:00

I don't really now what compels me to do these things, but here I am.

I'm trying to get past writer's block. I just want something new and clean and unmarked. So, we'll see.

I probably should have gone with wordpress. Seems like everyone else does. I like the ease of adding the widget things here, though.

So... hi. This is yet another mommy blog. Exciting, right? I have a 6 month old boy. He's the bees knees. The cat's pajamas. The snake's hips.

And, I'm awfully glad he's currently taking a nap.