Coffeemaker

Matthew likes to turn on the coffeemaker after I get everything set up.

Me: "Who's going to turn on the coffeemaker today?"
Matt: "Nobody!"
Me: "Well, somebody needs to turn it on!"
Matt: "Nobody! Some coffee turns on all by itself!"

Me and Jeff: Where does he learn this stuff?

Silly Mattoddler

Background: We put all of Matthew's clothes that are too small into his top dresser drawer.

Me: "Well, Sam can't play trucks with you yet. He is still too small."
Matt: *long pause* "Put Sam in drawer!"

Cat Grandpa, Cat Grandpa, Cat Grandpa

This week, Matt has spent some quality time reminiscing about Cat Grandpa's visit.

"Mom sit in Cat Grandpa's chair."
"Cat Grandpa used to eat this peanut butter. Cat Grandpa not eat this peanut butter."
"Cat Grandpa put these two birdfeeder in this tree. Cat Grandpa put this birdfeeder here."
"Cat Grandpa play t-ball."
"Cat Grandpa used to be here [behind shrub by sidewalk]. Cat Grandpa used to be here."
Pointing at guy on bike, "Just like Cat Grandpa!"
Pointing at lady running, "Just like Cat Grandpa!"
"Cat Grandpa used to eat blueberry yogurt. Just like Matt!"
"Cat Grandpa drink tea in this cup."
"Cat Grandpa used to be in playhouse."
"Cat Grandpa wear basketball shirt. Not football shirt."
Pointing at someone's sunglasses, "Cat Grandpa wear those."
"Cat Grandpa used to take Matt in bike trailer."

Perspective

So I've been feeling vaguely sorry for myself since I've had NO time to read lately, except the blog I've been reading on the iPad when I'm feeding Sam during the night. Jeff was bragging about how he's staying on track for his book-a-month goal so far, and that made me feel even more sad. So, I checked my records, which I'm keeping for the Madison Library reading challenge, and saw that, in fact, I have read four books already in October! But only one in September. And only seven in August. (I usually read between ten and thirteen books per month.)

Then I thought, Wow, I'm still reading! And taking care of two children! And working! And occasionally going running! And doing a bunch of household tasks all the time! So it's not that bad. But I'm still going to try to take more time for reading.

All-natural fattie

Lady at the coffeeshop: "How old's your baby?"
Me: "Two months."
Lady: "How much does he weigh?"
Me: "Umm, probably between 12 and 13 pounds."
Lady: *knowing look on her face* "Ohh, yeah. Formula plumps them right up. Don't feel bad."
Me: ?

"Used to be" and "A little bit"

Matthew's learned the phrases "used to be" and "a little bit." So now he says them all the time.

Jumping down from a chair, he narrated, "Just hop down... a little bit."

Out for a stroll, his running commentary included, "Jeep used to be in garage door. Truck used to be in garage door." (They were both in the driveway.) "Garage door open a little bit. Two garage door open a little bit!"

Looking at the humidifier in our room, "Used to be in Matt's room!"

Looking at some books in his room, "Used to be in livingroom!"

While eating, "Matt eat cantaloupe. Just a little bit."

Looking in his milk cup, "All gone!" *hysterical laughter* (Milk's not all gone.) Then, "Just a little bit!"

Putting soap on his hands, "Just a little bit!"

About his crayons, which are now stored in a cup, "Used to be in box."

About Sam, "Used to be in Mama!" Followed up by, "Sam go back in Mama?"


It used to be that Matthew just talked a little bit. Ha.

Connections and independence

Matthew's main activity right now is making connections, it seems. Also, memorizing random things like which neighbors drive which vehicles.

For example, he has a book with a bunch of pictures of animals. Near the front is a porcupine. Near the back is a porcupine fish. One day, he excitedly flipped back and forth from one picture to the other. Then he ran to his room and got another book with a porcupine in it.

He has a tiny green four-wheeler toy. He was driving it around, stopped abruptly, then tried to ride on it, saying, "Cat Grandpa! In snow! Matt!" Apparently he remembered riding on the four-wheeler at the ranch in April with Grandpa.

When we go for strolls, Matt can identify which cars or trucks are missing from which houses. He'll point out, "No red car? No big pickup truck? Just Jeep." Or he'll tell me where he's pretty sure the vehicle has gone: "Pickup truck at grocery store. New blue bathmat." (They always go to work or the grocery store. If they go to the grocery store, they're always getting a new bathmat. Because, you know, we got a bathmat one time and it was exciting."

If he sees an Auburn logo, he'll say, "Just like Dada!"

Whenever we go to Walmart, Matthew shouts, "Front row!" when we're pulling into the parking lot. One time I said that excitedly, and now it's the thing to say when you go to Walmart.

If Sam starts fussing, Matt runs to get his pacifier. If Sam's awake but I say he seems sleepy, Matthew will say, "'Am go sleep in bas-net!" then sometimes try to bring the bassinet to me.

Some things Matt can do by himself now: Pee standing up without using a stool. Pull his own shorts and underwear down. Wash his hands, including getting the soap out of the dispenser. Use the bathroom faucets to get water in a cup. Use the outside water faucet. Move his stool around the house to reach things like Sam's sock box in his closet, the light switches, and food in the cupboard. Eat very well with a spoon and pretty well with a fork. Take his shirt off if he already has one arm out of a sleeve. Run for 20 minutes without stopping.

Some things Sam can do: Um... I guess I'll save that topic for a while from now.

Who's full of danger?

At the playground. True story. I didn't even coach him on this.


Me: Matthew, you are full of danger today!   ...Who else is full of danger?

Matt: Mama!

Me: That's true. Who else is full of danger?

Matt: Cat Grandpa!

Me: Yeah, sometimes, I guess. Who's not full of danger?

Matt: Dada!

Things that "grrr"

Things that "grrr," according to Matthew:

motorcycles
electric mixers
lawnmowers
weed whackers
bears
lions
tigers
horses
printers
shredders
garbage trucks


I just asked him, "What says 'grrr'?" He said "trains." So add it to the list.

Pregnancy comparison, end-of-June edition

Back in March, I wrote a pregnancy comparison post, starting with:
Seems like people are always saying "every pregnancy is different." So every time I hear that, I think, "Hmm, it hasn't been that different so far, really." Just to catalog...

Now, though, the differences seem more pronounced. Here's the final-trimester update:

The Not-So-Good This Time:
Last time, I was pretty tired at some point every day. (Lay down for a few minutes, no big deal.) This time, I feel like I cannot go on another minute at some point every day. (Lay down for a few minutes and let the roaming toddler use me as a jungle gym, since he seems to not grasp the concept of cuddling.)

Last time, I had quite a bit of joint pain, and it woke me up a lot. (But I had many opportunities to rest during the day.) This time, my hips are pretty much going to shatter and my legs will fall off. I'm sure of it. I can't sleep more than an hour at a time because it hurts to lay down. I have to get up and walk around every night to relieve the pain.

The Much-Better This Time:
Last time, terrible, unbearable, unrelenting heartburn, every single night. This time, maybe a couple instances of heartburn but only a few minutes of the truly awful variety of heartburn I remember. (I credit this to my gluten-free diet, though.)

Last time, I had really bad back pain (which made me roam the house in the night instead of the hip pain). This time, none. Just some normal carrying-lots-of-extra-weight soreness.

Last time, a lot of kicks in the ribs. This time, a lot of kicks in the bladder (but I find it less irritating).

Last time, I gained a lot of weight. This is the week in which I stopped weighing myself, actually. And this time, I'm "textbook" as they say, and a solid 8 or 9 pounds lighter at the same point (which translates to having gained something like 19 pounds less since my starting weight was "a little pudgy"). I think it's contributing to my overall feeling better.

Last time, I was really itchy. This time, I'm not. No new stretch marks, though, I'm sad to say––I always thought they looked pretty cool.

Last time, my feet were extremely swollen. I only had one pair of shoes that fit. This time, I'm still wearing the same sandals I wear every day (really, every day––check out the tan lines), with only the occasional swelling when I've been outside a lot that day.

Last time, I felt kind of annoyed when people constantly asked me how I felt. (Answer: "Fine. Pregnant. No big deal.") This time, I think it's nice. (Answer: "Oh my goodness, unbearably tired! I can't go on!" Also, "Fine. Pregnant. Better than last time.")

Chattier and chattier

Here are some things Matthew's been saying lately, usually loudly and in public, which makes it a good thing that his pronunciation is a mystery to most people.

1. We were at the doctor's office looking out the window at a construction site. Matt named all the trucks then spotted a Porta Potty. He was so excited! He shouted, "Mom go pee blue dinda (building)! Mom go pee in blue dinda! Mom go pee!"

2. We went to Walmart the other day and bought some groceries, assorted items, and a purse. Ever since, "New purse from grocery store! New purse from grocery store!"

3. Every time we're in the library's children's garden, Matthew asks, "Matt go pee tree?" Loudly. Over and over. Every time, same answer: "You can go pee inside. You only pee on trees in our yard." (Lots of talking about peeing all the time around here. Probably for the next fifteen years or so.)


He's also very chatty about what everyone's doing all the time.

1. Before naps: "Matt go beep (sleep). Mom go beep. Dad beep at work? Dad up at work!"

2. During lunch: "Matt eat peanut butter. Mom eat soup. Dad eat peanut butter... at work!"

3. When we go in the car somewhere: "Matt hop out our car at grocery store. Mom hop out our car at grocery store. Dad hop out... Dad car! At work!" Then when we get back in: "Mom hop in our car. Matt hop in our car. Dad hop in Dad car at work! Dinda! (Work on buildings.) Eat peanut butter! Pee at work!"

4. About food he's eaten that we don't have anymore of in the house: "Goldfish all gone. In here." He puts his finger in his mouth. "More goldfish!" I say, "We don't have anymore goldfish (or whatever food)." He says, "More goldfish... at grocery store!"

5. About our kitchen chairs: "Matt in Matt chair. Dad in Dad chair. Mom in Mom chair. Grandpa in Grandpa chair. Tommy in Tommy chair. (Those last two share a chair, apparently)."


Some of Matthew's other favorite conversations right now are about who gave him what toys. So every day, he wants to go over which truck is from Cat Grandpa and Donna, which truck is from Other Grandpa and Grandma, which ones are from Tommy, Annie, Stephenie, and on and on. And, of course, which shirt is from Abby! Abby, Abby, Abby is apparently the most fun name in the history of names for other toddlers to say. And when he hears the name Jennifer, in any context, he makes his elephant noise to indicate that Jennifer's son Jacob has a stuffed elephant. At a certain playground one time, he pointed in each direction and wanted to know which way is home, Dad's work, the library, and Abby's house. Then he remembered and tells me whenever we're there.

All day long, conversation, conversation. 

Identity crisis! (Except I know who I am)

I've had a lot of time to think lately. (Mainly because this pregnancy joint pain wakes me up at least every hour and I stay awake about an hour or so near morning. And there's nothing else to do.) And a lot of that time, I think about how I wish I had some friends who are like me.

But maybe I do.

But maybe I don't. Herein lies the dissociation problem. (Also, the fact that I use words like "dissociation" in casual conversation. Annoying.)

Adults are supposed to know who they are. I know who I am. Clearly, I am an extremely hardworking but wholly unambitious lower-middle-class wife and mother who loves country music, is very strongly socially conservative, enjoys board games, card games, lawn games, and is known to go overboard a bit with not-so-fancy crafts, like crocheting, and with reading. Physically, it's apparent that my athletic pursuits are important, and it looks like it. (As my grandmother once said, "You always did go for those roughneck sports.") And my evangelical Christian faith is a strong foundation for everything I (intend to) do. I dislike anything that seems sophisticated or pretentious and most hobbies that require electronics. My sense of self is somewhat over the top, too; whatever it is, I'll find a better way to do it. This all seems obvious to me.

But maybe it's not so obvious.

Definitely I'm not part of the lower middle class, if I ever was. We live in a nice house that doesn't require work. My engagement ring diamond has some type of impressive stats (but you'd have to ask Jeff what those are.) We have two vehicles in good repair. We aren't in debt.

Wholly unambitious? I am, on the inside. But I also have two graduate degrees with a 4.0 GPA for each. And multiple academic awards and recognitions. And I'm a professional editor. So maybe that's not coming across right. Maybe people see the facts instead of how I know I am. I remember one time, when I so strongly did not want to go to college because I couldn't see the point of it all, my dad saying something like, "You can't clean rooms at Best Western your whole life." And I said, "Why not? I like it." I wasn't being antagonistic; I just couldn't see the point. (And still it doesn't matter that much, all that education. Sometimes it feels like a burden, like I "learned" so much but I still feel like the same rational, assiduous thinker who has not been converted to liberalism. But that's too political an explanation.) And apparently there's something about me that says "educated." I can't pinpoint it––diction, topics of interest, Friends of the Library volunteer position, who knows?

And liking a certain type of music doesn't necessarily say anything about a person. Games? Non-electronic hobbies? Hmm... I am on Facebook quite a bit. (Though, really, what a lifesaver when otherwise you mainly talk to a toddler in your free time.) But my disinterest in movies, tv, computer/video games belies my interest in being outside! doing things! staying in motion! getting stuff done! As a side note, I'm a little bit horrified that we have a computer, a large tv that is hanging on the wall, an iPod, SiriusXM, and an iPad (though in defense of that, I won it in a contest for reading a lot of books. Real paper books).

And athletics. Pshww. I haven't looked like an athlete in, like, three years, and I haven't been an athlete in one year and counting. Random guys rarely check me out. (This could be because of my adorable, constant sidekick, though. I'm not sure. Not really tuned in to that––just aware that fewer people whistle out their car windows nowadays.)

So I don't know. There's no conclusion to this rambling post. I just feel like the person I am is nothing like the person I seem like. I'm sure that's how most people feel to some extent (and what are your contradictions? Or is this something you don't think about?)

And then how do I make friends? Real friends, maybe with some commonalities. Or maybe at least who don't care about the dissociation or who aren't put off by the few things about which I feel extremely strongly even if they disagree?

In all this thinking, though, there's one thing for sure that I'm not the same now as I always have been. I don't feel the need to escape anymore. Seems like my whole life was moving, moving, moving, being different, trying something new, going somewhere else, making new friends, not being trapped... But then I met Jeff. Same ol' story. But it's true. It seems like with Jeff I can just stay here––in a place where the culture and the city-ness and the sheer number of people and school zones and entertainment options and other accoutrements never seem routine to me––and maybe it will be okay. I might not get used to it, but that's okay. Maybe I'll never get used to hanging out with people who wear makeup every day, either, or put a lot of effort into decorating their houses or dressing their children fashionably, but maybe that will be okay, too. (Little boys' smocked clothes, though, uhhn-uhh, can't get used to that.) It's working out, taking Jeff into consideration. These other things don't matter. And I have friends who know me and who are not like me elsewhere, and the differences and similarities aren't that important (I'm talking about you, Jennifer and Maria!).

So that's that. Nothing like a little light thinking to cheer me up during the nightly insomnia.

Talk, talk, talk

A month ago...

Me: Matt, where's Deedee (my mom) going to sleep when she visits?
Matthew: Pack N Play.
(Real answer: Couch.)


A few days ago...

Matthew was watching the motor grader (his favorite!) drive up and down the road at the construction site outside the gym. The driver stopped for a few minutes, and Matt got a little antsy. He said, "Go, go, go," a few times and pointed down the road to where he thought it should drive. A few minutes later, he got really agitated and started shouting, "Green light! Green light! Green light!" (Maybe he'll figure out the nuances of traffic signals once he can see them from the car.)

More toddler silliness

1. I've been telling Matthew that he can go outside without his shoes on in the morning before the driveway gets too hot, like to put mail in the mailbox or help with recycling, or if he's just going in the garage. The conversation goes like this:
Me: "It's okay. You can go out without your shoes."
Matt: "Shoes on?"
Me: "Nope, you don't need your shoes on."
Matt: "Feet on?"
Me: "Yep, you need your feet on."

Sometimes he switches it up, I guess to see if I'm going to change my story, especially when we're coming inside from somewhere and he has his shoes on:
Me: "You can take your shoes off now."
Matt: "Shoes off?"
Me: "Yep, you can take your shoes off."
Matt: "Feet off?"
Me: "Nope, that's so silly. You have to keep your feet on."


2. Matthew has a blanket with blue dots on it, and one day I was sitting on it. He pointed at each blue dot, saying, "Blue dot. Blue dot. Blue dot," etc. Then he pretended to see blue dots on my arm and back and said, "Blue dot. Blue dot..." When he got to my face, he said, "...red dot?" and looked really confused. Sure enough, pregnancy acne. Ha ha.

Louisiana Saturday Night

Yesterday, Matthew and I were sitting in the living room working on puzzles when he suddenly started staring intently toward the window. It was like he was completely dazed. I even waved my hand in front of his eyes and got right in his face, asking him what he was looking at. Then he jumped up, ran into the kitchen, and grabbed his shoes. I said, "Do you want your shoes on?" He just kind of stared at me. Then he threw his shoes on the floor, with force, and started hopping wildly. I was so confused that I didn't even say anything about the shoe-throwing; he didn't seem upset, and his behavior was bizarre.

Then I realized. We had Alabama songs playing in the background, and "Louisiana Saturday Night" was on. Sure enough, when the chorus came around, it all made sense:
"Well, you get down the fiddle and you get down the bow
Kick off your shoes and you throw 'em on the floor
Dance in the kitchen till the mornin' light,
Louisiana Saturday night!"

"Just the facts, ma'am"

Matthew's been telling me a lot of facts lately. Many, many times per day. Here are the things he thinks I need to know about a hundred times every day.

"Go, go, go! Green light."
"Stop. Red light."
"Slow. Yellow light."

"Dad pee work."
"Dad poop work."
"Dad eat honey yogurt work."
"Dad eat peanut butter work."
"Dad work dinda (buildings)."

"Dad car work."
"Dad car home."
"Our car home."

"Cat meow."
"Cat purr."

Yep, he's our son

Matthew's been getting funnier and funnier now that he can talk more understandably. And he's so like Jeff and me with the wordplay, my goodness. Here's some funny things he's been doing.

We say a prayer at night that starts, "Savior, lay thy hand on me..." and every night, Matt pipes up with "paw" when we say "hand" since he calls his own hands his paws.

If I tell him to hurry, he starts barking... because of Murray, the dog, of course. You know, hurry, Murray, it's all the same.

We taught him to sneak up on people by tiptoeing quietly. One day I called the gym to ask for details on a class called SilverSneakers... then laughed out loud when I looked over and saw Matt "sneaking" toward the couch.

Matthew was looking at the tattoo on my ankle, so I said, "That's my tattoo." He laughed uncontrollably for a while then managed to explain, "Tat-three! Tat-three! Tat-three!" Ah, the height of hilarity.

I'll think of more later - it's something new every day.

Toddler trickery

Last week, Matthew tricked me with the same shenanigans he'd tricked me with a month or two ago. He had his hand in a fist for a long time, like maybe ten minutes, so finally I asked him what was in it and held out my hand so he could drop whatever sweaty item was clenched in there. He dutifully opened his hand, said, "Drool," and let all the drool run out into my hand. Then he giggled uncontrollably.

Today was a new one. We were in the car, and Matt had his water bottle, as is not uncommon since he is usually thirsty when we're driving home from the gym. I glanced back and saw that he was pouring the water out on his leg, so I made him hand me the bottle. When I was getting him out of his car seat, he started shouting, "Pee! Pee!" and pointing at his wet shorts. I said, "Matt, you didn't pee. I saw you pour the water on your leg." He insisted, "Pee! Pee!" This trick would have been a good one... but he really needs to perfect pouring the water on the right part of his shorts.

And, oh, what next? This kid's not even two.

Little kitchen helper

I have a wonderful little kitchen helper! (His main limitation seems to be his height, but soon enough he'll be able to reach things without needing to scurry around moving his stool from place to place.)

Really, I think this is about Matthew's crazy-good memory again probably.

One time a few weeks ago, Matt helped me make some waffles. The mix calls for the actual waffle mix, an egg, milk, and oil. We also use cooking spray on the waffle iron. Then a few weeks later, Jeff was making waffles, and Matt decided to help him. Jeff got out the bowl, the mix, the egg, and the milk. Matthew ran to the food cupboard, got out the cooking spray and oil, and set them on the counter. Jeff handed back the oil, saying he didn't need it. Matthew looked at him and handed it back. Jeff mixed up the other ingredients and then, much to his surprise, saw that he did need the oil!

Today, I asked Matthew if he'd like to help me cook some rice. He was pretty enthusiastic, of course, so I asked him what we would need. He said water, rice. I asked him what we should put it in, and he said cup. I wasn't sure if he knew what I was asking, so I rephrased and asked him what we should cook it in on the stove. He said pot. Clearly, my phrasing had been too vague. Then I asked him what we should use to measure the rice and water, and he said cup again. (He must think I ask the easiest questions.) I asked him how he was going to be able to reach the counter to help pour the rice and water in the pot, and he just ran full speed to the bathroom to get his stool.

Yep, the best little kitchen helper.

Phenomenal memory

I'm generally impressed with Matthew's little toddler memory, but the other day I was astounded.

Matt enjoys pointing to objects and then saying a person's name, like "Ball. Dada," "Blue shirt. Dada," "Green hat. Mama," "Tea. Grandpa."

He has a book with a picture of an iron in it. He pointed at it, I said, "Iron," and he said, "Mama." I said, "Yep, sometimes I iron." (By "sometimes," I mean, "maybe twice a year.") Matthew pointed to himself, grabbed his shirt, then said, "B! B! B!" I was a little confused until I remembered that yes, in fact, I had ironed a "B" onto the shirt I made that says "Big Brother." He hasn't seen the iron since. That apparently memorable event happened in November!

A bad case of the "You just wait"s

Major life changes and strongly held values tend to bring out the worst in people, I've found. Not their own major life changes or strongly held values, mind you, but those of other people.

Let me explain.

If you know me at all, you know that one of my notable characteristics is knowing what I want, knowing what I believe, and not being swayed easily by the opinions of others unless they are unusually well reasoned and logical. (Yes, sticking with this requires a good bit of stubbornness, which, of course, I have.) I've been like this my whole life, as far as I can remember.

It begins early, the encounters that include the words, "Oh, you just wait..."


Here's a typical script––fill in with your particular experiences:
Person: "Oh, you're going to                        ?"
Me: "Yes, definitely."
Person: "You might think that now, but you just wait until                        happens. Then you're going to                          ."
Me: "Nope, I don't think so. Still planning to                        ."

Here are some examples of how this has played out in my life so far.

Example #1, as teenager:
Person: "Oh, you're going to wait until marriage to have sex?"
Me: "Yes, definitely."
Person: "You might think that now, but you just wait until you fall in love. Then you're going to change your mind so fast!" (or, "You might think that now, but you just wait until you drink too much and meet some cute guy. Then you're definitely going to do it.")
Me: "Nope, I don't think so. Still planning to wait till I'm married."

Outcome: Yep, I was right.

Example #2, while playing sports:
Person: "Oh, you run marathons/play rugby/play roller derby?"
Me: "Yes, I do. I love it!"
Person: "You might love it now, but you just wait until your knees are shot/your back hurts/you break your ankle. Then you'll wish you hadn't done something so hard on your body. It seems fun while you're young."
Me: "Nope, I don't think so. I'd regret it more if I didn't run/play."

Outcome: No regrets. Breaking my ankle really sucked, but even so, it's pregnancy stopping me from playing again, not regrets over a broken bone.

Example #3, while newly engaged:
Person: "Oh, you're going to get married soon? How exciting! Are you excited? Well, you will be until you start having all those newlywed fights."
Me: "Yes, I'm definitely excited. I think it will be great."
Person: "You might think that now, but you just wait until you can't stand being married and just fight about stupid little things. Then you're going to wish you were still single."
Me: "Nope, I don't think so. That's not how our relationship is now, and I can't imagine it will be much different just because we're married."

Outcome: Yep, no flurry of newlywed fights for Jeff and me. I can kind of recall maybe some brief disagreements resulting from trying to talk to each other from different rooms in the house, but that's easily resolved. We're a pretty peaceful and compatible couple with cooperation as our overriding default... you know, just as we have been since we first started dating.

Examples #4, #5, #6, #7... (oh, they're endless!) while pregnant with kid #1:
Person: "Oh, you're going to have a baby?"
Me: "Yep! We're pretty excited."
Person: "It IS exciting... but you just wait! You're never going to sleep again!"
Me: "Nope, pretty sure that would be impossible."

Outcome: I have, indeed, slept again since Matthew was born.

Person: "Are you planning to breastfeed?"
Me: "Yes, I am."
Person: "Oh, you might think that now, but you just wait until you're too tired to get up in the night/your boobs hurt/you find it really inconvenient/you want to drink heavily (clearly, these people don't know me...) Then you're going to see how great formula is."
Me: "Nope, I'm going to breastfeed. Let's stop talking about my boobs now. Awkward."

Outcome: I didn't love it, but I didn't expect to, and the goal was accomplished.

Person: "So-and-so is being induced tomorrow. Are you going to be induced?"
Me: "No, definitely not."
Person: "Oh, you might think that now, but you just wait until you're already past your due date and you're too big to move and you just want that baby out!"
Me: "Nope, that's not going to happen."

Outcome: No induction here. And no pain meds.

Person: "You're planning to use cloth diapers?"
Me: "Yes, we are."
Person: "Oh, you might think that now, but you just wait until you have to actually change those diapers! And wash them! You'll probably be all on board with disposables then."
Me: "Nope, I don't think so."

Outcome: LOVE the cloth diapers. Mainly because I'm lazy and hate to buy things. Or even have to remember to buy things. And kind of hate spending money, especially for things designed to be thrown away.

I could go on and on, but onto the next life event...

Example #6, while pregnant with kid #2:
Person: "Oh, you're going to have another kid? How are you feeling now, pregnancy-wise?"
Me: "Oh, not too bad. Just a little tired. I'm bad at sleeping while pregnant."
See #4 for how this plays out.

Person: "What tv shows does Matthew like?"
Me: "Oh, he doesn't really watch tv."
Person: "Oh, you might say that now, but once you have a baby, you'll do anything to get a few minutes of peace and quiet from your toddler."
Me: "Nope, not going to happen. I kind of hate tv."

And that brings us up to the present.


Now I'll clarify: It's not that I think most topics have a "right" and "wrong" side. It's a continuum. It's that I think, "Every person's experience is different. Your life is not like mine. Your opinions hold no sway over my decisions." What I believe strongly may be insignificant to you, and vice versa.

I'm not saying it's better to risk wrecking my body by playing roughneck sports (as my grandma would say), then deliver a baby without unneeded interventions, feed that baby with my boobs, and catch his excrement with reusable cloth while not letting a toddler watch tv or eat sugary snacks. But I am saying it's better for me.

Maybe for you, it's better to risk wrecking your body by not doing anything, delivering a baby through elective c-section, feeding that baby with a bottle, and catching his excrement in plastic while letting your toddler watch tv and eat sugary snacks. And I will not offer my opinion on that. You know, because it's your life! I don't know what's best for you. I don't know anything about you, anything real.

Mainly, what I find irritating is how everyone from complete strangers to casual acquaintances to true friends seem prone to catching a case of the "you just wait"s. I'm sure I do, too, though I try to actively guard against it (especially when people with younger babies ask me things about my experience––it probably gets repetitive that I'm always saying, "Well, in my experience so far... blah blah blah... but it's different for everybody. You know what will work best for you.") It's the fact that the "you just wait"s are always accompanied by a flippant disregard for and dismissal of someone else's opinion or experience that really gets me.

What are your best encounters with "you just wait"?

Chattier Chatty Matty

I didn't think it was possible, but Chatty Matty is getting even chattier! He already talks all day, but soon he'll be able to talk to ANYONE all day! Translation: His words are starting to sound like words instead of just one part of the word.

For example, instead of just "poo," Matthew's been saying "ampoo" the past couple days for "shampoo." Instead of just saying "eek," which is supposed to be "oink," he's been trying to say "pig" (sounds like "pa" right now). And tonight he said "hot dog" pretty clearly. Then said it a bunch more times. He's been working on "sheepdog" and "catfish," too.

The other way Matt's been getting chattier is at night. You'd think after talking all day most days, he'd run out of things to say. Nope. The past week, he's chatted to himself in his room for 15 to 45 minutes every night, just saying all the words he knows. His favorites seem to be pop!, hop!, grandpa, dada, mom mom, moo, and baa! Usually with enthusiasm! And volume!

Pregnancy comparison

Seems like people are always saying "every pregnancy is different." So every time I hear that, I think, "Hmm, it hasn't been that different so far, really." Just to catalog...

Same:
Super tired in the beginning
Nauseous all the time for the first trimester
Slight joint pain at the midway point
Freezing cold all the time
Same weight at the same point, almost within a pound (though rate of weight gain has differed considerably)
Intermittent back pain
Lots of nighttime wakeups for no apparent reason or from being thirsty
"Unusually active" baby kicks and movements (as experienced by my ribs and commented on by ultrasound technicians)

Different:
(this time)
Super sick with puking in addition to nausea for the first trimester and into the second
Super tired into the second trimester

(last time)
Overall discomfort and tenderness
Extreme itchiness most of the time
Heartburn almost every night

Sounds like fun times, huh?

Toddler jokes

Matthew's been telling us a lot of hilarious jokes lately. Here are the main ones:

Jeff or me: "What does a cow say?"
Matt: "Baa!" (laughs hysterically)

Jeff or me: "What does a sheep say?"
Matt: "Boo! (Moo!)" (laughs hysterically)

And on and on with the animal jokes. The cow/sheep ones are his favorite, though.


Some background on the next ones. For breakfast, Jeff eats Total, Matthew eats oatmeal, and I eat Chex. Matt used to answer correctly for each of us. Now...

Jeff or me: "What are you going to eat for breakfast?"
Matt: "Total" or "Chex" (laughs)

Jeff or me: "What is Dad going to eat for breakfast?"
Matt: *makes turtle face* (laughs).
Turtle=Total––get it? Hilarious!


Me: "Matt, what's on your socks?" (answer is stripes)
Matt: "Dot, dot, dot, dot." Hee hee hee.


Jeff or me: "What letter is this?"
Matt: "H!" (It's an N.)

Jeff or me: "What letter is this?"
Matt: "N!" (It's an H.)


He needs to work on his punch-line face, though. The ROFLing or ridiculous grinning always begins right when he's at the punch line. And he doesn't quite get it if you tell him his own jokes back; if I say a cow says "baa," he just looks at me like, "Wait, that's not right. That's not right at all!" with his super-serious face.

TMI, little girl, TMI

Matthew and I walk around the block sometimes, and the neighborhood kids always swarm him when they see us out, saying how cute he is and whatnot. (Last time, he saw a break in the wall of kids and ran! Ha ha.)

Anyway, these kids always have a lot to say, usually about school or dogs or Nerf guns or whatever. Last time, though, oh my. We ran into a pack of three girls, maybe between the ages of 8 and 11.

Girls: Your baby is so cute! He's so adorable! You're so adorable, little baby! What's your name?
Me: His name is Matthew.
Girl 1: I have a baby sister!
Girl 2: I'm going to have a baby brother soon!
Girl 3: We don't have any babies.
Girl 2: I'm going to have a baby brother soon because my mom is pregnant.
Me: Oh, that's very exciting.
Girl 1: I might get a baby brother someday.
Girl 3: I'm never going to get any babies in my family.
Girl 2: Why not?
Girl 3: Well, you know the thing the dad has to use to make the baby? Well, my dad got his cut off!

Saving my excitement

People have started asking me if I'm "so excited to be having a baby!" I'm afraid that at this point I just can't muster up the appropriate level of enthusiasm to make my answer––"Oh, yes. We're very excited"––sound convincing.

Don't be fooled, I AM very excited. But if I don't sound excited, remember how my face gives everything away. Here's my real answer:

Ask yourself how much excitement you could muster after feeling sick for weeks on end. On the days you're puking, you wish you weren't. On the days you aren't puking, you wish you would, imagining (falsely) that it would somehow make you feel less sick afterward. And imagine that every night you wake up for no apparent reason and are unable to fall asleep again until hours later. And then when you drag yourself out of bed in the morning, imagine that a small, loud, demanding person insists that he absolutely needs to climb on you while you're half awake and eating breakfast. Then that same person insists on playing lots of fun, endless, exhausting games all day long that require 100% participation. And when you have time for yourself, you need to wash dishes, wash laundry, do some work for the paying job you'd really like to keep for many years... Or you decide to take a shower, which inexplicably this time around sometimes also makes you puke. Then you collapse into bed at the end of the day and start all over again.

So I've decided to save my excitement about this new baby for later, when I can appreciate it more.

Extra potty fun

We've taken the last leap in potty training––tackling peeing! Last Monday, we bought a bunch of tiny underwear, and now Matt's out of diapers except at naps and nighttime (and when I'm at the gym since he's not used to having a non-parent help him).

It's pretty exciting. The first couple days, oh my, the pee. Jeff determined that Matthew probably wasn't understanding the concept of underwear and peeing in the potty. His thinking was something like this: "Matt's probably like, oh good, underwear! Now I get changed immediately every time I pee!" So after a few frustrating days of a million changes per day and wiping up puddles, we explained more clearly that Matt should pee IN the potty, and it seems like he's caught on pretty well already.

Sunday afternoon was complete success. Monday was a full day of success, no accidents at all, even though we went to the gym, to playgroup, and to visit another friend. Tuesday we had one accident. Today we had a morning full of tantrums and two accidents so far, but I guess it's difficult to cry really hard and still remember to go use the potty at the same time.

The best thing, though, is that Matthew has used the toilet in places other than our house successfully for the first time.

All we need to work on now is getting him to indicate more clearly ahead of time when he needs to go. That will come as his linguistic skills increase, though. And it's probably good his pronunciation isn't that great yet, or you'd realize he's been saying "underwear, underwear, underwear" about a million times a day.

Tiny taskmaster

One of Matt's main interests is helping with household tasks. While his help makes everything take at least one million times longer, we still encourage his participation (of course). But sometimes, the tiny taskmaster gets really, really upset if we're not doing things exactly how he wants it done.

For example, one day I had the dishwasher open so all the clean dishes could dry fully. I was also working on laundry. Matthew woke up from his nap and enthusiastically followed me to the dryer. And then he spotted the dishwasher! With dishes! Dishes to put away! What?! So exciting! At least a hundred times more exciting than putting laundry in the dryer. He was completely outraged that I would not immediately put away dishes. He cried really hard for the whole two minutes it took me to put the clothes in the dryer. But don't worry! Then he had the best day ever once he got to hand me the dishes.

Speaking of dishes, lately Jeff has been putting them away in the morning with Matt's help while I'm still sleeping. Yesterday, though, we had the excitement of putting them away in the afternoon. But Matthew let me know that I clearly know nothing about putting away dishes now. I was doing it all wrong. The tiny taskmaster did NOT like for me to shake the water off the container lids. He handed me a towel, said "towel," and looked at me with an expression that he will probably use constantly when he's a teenager––clearly scornful of my lack of knowledge on how things are done around here. Then I made the mistake of handing him a pot to put away in a lower cupboard. He handed it back, all like, "Psshhh, I don't put away pots." His little attitude let me know that I'd better do things the right way or just let Dad do it.

One day I suggested to Matthew that he put the clothes from the big basket into the little basket since he was having trouble with the usual way (little basket into big basket), and he just gave me that scornful look again. Doesn't Mom know anything?

And don't get me started on the right way to sweep the garage! Tiny taskmaster has all his own ideas about that, too. He'll let you know.